Мор - ученик смерти

           ’You’vejustbeenappointedRoyalRecogniser.’

           ’Oh.Whatdoesthatentail,exactly?’

           ’You’regoingtoremindeveryoneI’malive.It’sverysimple.There’sthreesquaremealsadayandyourlaundrydone.Steplively,man.’

           ’Royal?’

           ’You’reawizard.Ithinkthere’ssomethingyououghttoknow,’saidtheprincess.

           THEREis?saidDeath.

           (Thatwasacinematictrickadaptedforprint.Deathwasn’ttalkingtotheprincess.Hewasactuallyinhisstudy,talkingtoMort.Butitwasquiteeffective,wasn’tit?It’sprobablycalledafastdissolve,oracrosscut/zoom.Orsomething.AnindustrywhereaseniortechnicianiscalledaBestBoymightcallitanything.)

           ANDWHATISTHAT?headded,windingabitofblacksilkaroundthewickedhookinalittlevicehe’dclampedtohisdesk.

           Morthesitated.Mostlythiswasbecauseoffearandembarrassment,butitwasalsobecausethesightofahoodedspectrepeacefullytyingdryflieswasenoughtomakeanyonepause.

           Besides,Ysabellwassittingontheothersideoftheroom,ostensiblydoingsomeneedleworkbutalsowatchinghimthroughacloudofsullendisapproval.Hecouldfeelherred-rimmedeyesboringintothebackofhisneck.

           Deathinsertedafewcrowhacklesandwhistledabusylittletunethroughhisteeth,nothavinganythingelsetowhistlethrough.Helookedup.

           HMM?

           They–didn’tgoassmoothlyasIthought,’saidMort,standingnervouslyonthecarpetinfrontofthedesk.

           YouHADTROUBLE?saidDeath,snippingoffafewscrapsoffeather.