Мор - ученик смерти

           Therewasanopen-frontedstableatonesideofthemainbuilding,andheledBinkyintothewarm,horse-smellingdarknessthatalreadyaccommodatedthreeotherhorses.AsMortunfastenedthenosebaghewonderedifDeath’shorsefeltthesamewayaboutotherhorseswhichhadratherlesssupernaturallifestyles.Hecertainlylookedimpressivecomparedtotheothers,whichregardedhimwatchfully.Binkywasarealhorse–theblistersoftheshovelhandleonMort’shandswereatestimonytothat–andcomparedtotheothershelookedmorerealthanever.Moresolid.Morehorsey.Slightlylargerthanlife.

           Infact,Mortwasonthevergeofmakinganimportantdeduction,anditisunfortunatethathewasdistracted,ashewalkedacrosstheyardtotheinn’slowdoor,bythesightoftheinnsign.Itsartisthadn’tbeenparticularlygifted,buttherewasnomistakingthelineofKeli’sjaworhermassoffieryhairintheportraitofTheQuene’sHed.

           Hesighed,andpushedopenthedoor.

           Asoneman,theassembledcompanystoppedtalkingandstaredathimwiththehonestruralstarethatsuggeststhatfortwopinsthey’llhityouaroundtheheadwithashovelandburyyourbodyunderacompostheapatfullmoon.

           ItmightbeworthtakinganotherlookatMort,becausehe’schangedalotinthelastfewchapters.Forexample,whilehestillhasplentyofkneesandelbowsabouthisperson,theyseemtohavemigratedtotheirnormalplacesandhenolongermovesasthoughhisjointswerelooselyfastenedtogetherwithelasticbands.