Мор - ученик смерти
Andtheywouldn’tthinktwiceaboutcuttingyourheadoffsoonaslookatyou,’headdedapprovingly.’Andallthequeensweretallandpaleandworethembalaclavahelmetthings—’
’Wimples?’saidMort.
’Yeah,them,andtheprincesseswerebeautifulasthedayislongandsonoblethey,theycouldpeethroughadozenmattresses—’
’What?’
Alberthesitated.’Somethinglikethat,anyway,’heconceded.’Andtherewasballsandtournamentsandexecutions.Greatdays.’Hesmileddreamilyathismemories.
’Notlikethesortofdaysyougetnow,’hesaid,emergingfromhisreveriewithbadgrace.
’Haveyougotanyothernames,Albert?’saidMort.Butthebriefspellhadbeenbrokenandtheoldmanwasn’tgoingtobedrawn.
’Oh,Iknow,’hesnapped,’getAlbert’snameandyou’llgoandlookhimupinthelibrary,won’tyou?Pryingandpoking.Iknowyou,skulkinginthereatallhoursreadingthelivesofyoungwimmen—’
TheheraldsofguiltmusthaveflourishedtheirtarnishedtrumpetsinthedepthsofMort’seyes,becauseAlbertcackledandproddedhimwithabonyfinger.
’Youmightatleastputthembackwhereyoufind’em,’hesaid,’notleavepilesof’emaroundforoldAlberttoputback.Anyway,it’snotright,oglingthepoordeadthings.Itprobablyturnsyoublind.’
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