Мор - ученик смерти

           ’–swamtherivereverynight,butonenighttherewasthisstorm,andwhenhedidn’tarriveshe—’

           Mortfeltinstinctivelythatsomeyoungcouplesmet,say,atavillagedance,andhititoff,andwentouttogetherforayearortwo,hadafewrows,madeup,gotmarriedanddidn’tkillthemselvesatall.

           Hebecameawarethatthelitanyofstar-crossedlovehadwounddown.

           ’Oh,’hesaid,weakly.’Doesn’tanyonejust,youknow,justgetalonganymore?’

           Toloveistosuffer,’saidYsabell.There’sgottobelotsofdarkpassion.’

           ’Hasthere?’

           ’Absolutely.Andanguish.’

           Ysabellappearedtorecallsomething.

           ’Didyousaysomethingaboutsomethingflappingaroundloose?’shesaid,inthetightvoiceofsomeonepullingthemselvestogether.

           Mortconsidered.’No,’hesaid.

           ’I’mafraidIwasn’tpayingmuchattention.’

           ’Itdoesn’tmatteratall.’

           Theystrolledbacktothehouseinsilence.

           WhenMortwentbacktothestudyhefoundthatDeathhadgone,leavingfourhourglassesonthedesk.Thebigleatherbookwaslyingonalectern,securelylockedshut.

           Therewasanotetuckedundertheglasses.

           MorthadimaginedthatDeath’shandwritingwouldeitherbegothicorelsetombstoneangular,butDeathhadinfactstudiedaclassicworkongraphologybeforeselectingastyleandhadadoptedahandthatindicatedabalanced,well-adjustedpersonality.

           Itsaid:

           Gonefyshing.TheyreysaneexecutioninPseudopoiis,anaturralinKrull,afaytalfallintheCarrickMtns,aneagueinEll-Kinte.Theerestoftheeday’syourown.