Мор - ученик смерти

           ButshewasnotpreparedforsightslikeMoghedronthewinebutler,whomshehadhithertoseenonlyasastatelypresencemovinglikeagalleonunderfullsail,sittinginhispantrywithhisjacketundoneandsmokingapipe.

           Acoupleofmaidsranpastherwithoutasecondglance,giggling.Shehurriedon,awarethatinsomestrangewayshewastrespassinginherowncastle.

           Andthat,sherealised,wasbecauseitwasn’thercastleatall.Thenoisyworldaroundher,withitssteaminglaundriesandchillystillrooms,wasitsownworld.Shecouldn’townit.Possiblyitownedher.

           Shetookachickenlegfromthetableinthebiggestkitchen,acavernlinedwithsomanypotsthatbythelightofitsfiresitlookedlikeanarmouryfortortoises,andfelttheunfamiliarthrilloftheft.Theft!Inherownkingdom!Andthecooklookedstraightthroughher,eyesasglazedasjuggedham.

           Keliranacrossthestableyardsandoutofthebackgate,pastacoupleofsentrieswhosesterngazequitefailedtonoticeher.

           Outinthestreetsitwasn’tsocreepy,butshestillfeltoddlynaked.Itwasunnerving,beingamongpeoplewhoweregoingabouttheirownaffairsandnotbotheringtolookatone,whenone’sentireexperienceoftheworldhithertowasthatitrevolvedaroundone.Pedestriansbumpedintooneandreboundedaway,wonderingbrieflywhatitwastheyhadhit,andoneseveraltimeshadtoscurryawayoutofthepathofwagons.

           Thechickenleghadn’tgonefartofilltheholeleftbytheabsenceoflunch,andshefilchedacoupleofapplesfromastall,makingamentalnotetohavethechamberlainfindouthowmuchapplescostandsendsomemoneydowntothestallholder.