Мор - ученик смерти

           Sheglaredathim.

           Finallyhesaid,’Well–couldyouletmyhandfree,please?Thankyou–firstly,theguardsprobablywouldn’tseeme,secondly,you’llneverfindoutwhyI’mhereandyoulookasthoughyou’dhatenottoknow,andthirdly....’

           Thirdlywhat?’shesaid.

           Hismouthopenedandshut.Mortwantedtosay:thirdly,you’resobeautiful,oratleastveryattractive,oranywayfarmoreattractivethananyothergirlI’veevermet,althoughadmittedlyIhaven’tmetverymany.FromthisitwillbeseenthatMort’sinnatehonestywillnevermakehimapoet;ifMortevercomparedagirltoasummer’sday,itwouldbefollowedbyathoughtfulexplanationofwhatdayhehadinmindandwhetheritwasrainingatthetime.Inthecircumstances,itwasjustaswellthathecouldn’tfindhisvoice.

           Keliheldupthecandleandlookedatthewindow.

           Itwaswhole.Thestoneframeswereunbroken.Everypane,withitsstained-glassrepresentativesoftheStoLatcoatofarms,wascomplete.ShelookedbackatMort.

           ’Nevermindthirdly,’shesaid,’let’sgetbacktosecondly.’

           Anhourlaterdawnreachedthecity.DaylightontheDiscflowsratherthanrushes,becauselightisslowedrightdownbytheworld’sstandingmagicalfield,anditrolledacrosstheflatlandslikeagoldensea.Thecityonthemoundstoodoutlikeasandcastleinthetideforamoment,untilthedayswirledarounditandcreptonwards.

           MortandKelisatsidebysideonherbed.Thehourglasslaybetweenthem.Therewasnosandleftinthetopbulb.