Мор - ученик смерти

           ’Well,yousee,thewitchwouldn’tcomeaway,andthemonk,well,hestartedoutalloveragain.’

           THERE’SNOTHINGTOWORRYABOUTTHERE,LAD—

           ’—Mort—’

           —YOUSHOULDHAVEWORKEDOUTBYNOWTHATEVERYONEGETSWHATTHEYTHINKISCOMINGTOTHEM.IT’SSOMUCHNEATERTHATWAY.

           ’Iknow,sir.Butthatmeansbadpeoplewhothinkthey’regoingtosomesortofparadiseactuallydogetthere.Andgoodpeoplewhofearthey’regoingtosomekindofhorribleplacereallysuffer.Itdoesn’tseemlikejustice.’

           WHATisITI’VESAIDYOUMUSTREMEMBER,WHENYOU’REOUTONTHEDUTY?

           ’Well,you—’

           HMM?

           Mortstutteredintosilence.

           THERE’SNOJUSTICE.THERE’SJUSTYOU.

           ’Well,I—’

           YOUMUSTREMEMBERTHAT.

           ’Yes,but—’

           IEXPECTITALLWORKSOUTPROPERLYINTHEEND.IHAVENEVERMETTHECREATOR,BUTI’MTOLDHE’SQUITEKINDLYDISPOSEDTOPEOPLE.Deathsnappedthethreadandstartedtounwindthevice.

           PUTSUCHTHOUGHTSOUTOFYOURMIND,headded.ATLEASTTHETHIRDONESHOULDN’THAVEGIVENYOUANYTROUBLE.

           Thiswasthemoment.Morthadthoughtaboutitforalongtune.Therewasnosenseinconcealingit.He’dupsetthewholefuturecourseofhistory.Suchthingstendtodrawthemselvestopeople’sattention.Besttogetitoffhischest.Ownuplikeaman.Takehismedicine.Cardsontable.Beatingaboutbush,noneof.Mercy,throwhimselfon.

           Thepiercingblueeyesglitteredathim.