Мор - ученик смерти

           Althoughhewaswearingablackandwhiterobeembroideredwithsequins,althoughhispointyhatwasayardhighanddecoratedwithmoremysticsymbolsthanadentalchart,andalthoughhisredvelvetshoeshadsilverbucklesandtoesthatcurledlikesnails,therewerestillafewstainsonhiscollarandheappearedtobechewing.

           HewatchedMortclimbthestairstowardshim.

           ’Areyouangryaboutsomething?’hesaid.’Istartedwork,butIgotrathertiedupwithotherthings.Verydifficult,walkingthrough–whyareyoulookingatmelikethat?’

           ’Whatareyoudoinghere?’

           ’Imightaskyouthesamequestion.Wouldyoulikeastrawberry?’

           Mortglancedatthesmallwoodenpunnetinthewizard’shands.

           ’Inmid-winter?’

           ’Actually,they’resproutswithadashofenchantment.’

           Theytastelikestrawberries?’

           Cutwellsighed.’No,likesprouts.Thespellisn’ttotallyefficient.Ithoughttheymightcheertheprincessup,butshethrewthematme.Shametowastethem.Bemyguest.’

           Mortgapedathim.

           ’Shethrewthematyou?’

           ’Veryaccurately,I’mafraid.Verystrong-mindedyounglady.’

           Hi,saidavoiceinthebackofMort’smind,it’syouagain,pointingouttoyourselfthatthechancesoftheprincessevencontemplatingyouknowwiththisfellowareonthefarsideofremote.

           Goaway,thoughtMort.Hissubconsciouswasworryinghim.Itappearedtohaveadirectlinetopartsofhisbodythathewantedtoignoreatthemoment.

           ’Whyareyouhere?’hesaidaloud.