Мор - ученик смерти

           Cutwellrolledhiseyesheavenwardsandmovedhislips.Eventuallyhesaid:’Thatmeansit’llarrivearoundmidnighttomorrow,justintimeforthecoronation.’

           ’Whose?’

           ’Hers.’

           ’Butshe’squeenalready,isn’tshe?’

           ’Inaway,butofficiallyshe’snotqueenuntilshe’scrowned.’Cutwellgrinned,hisfaceapatternofshadeinthecandlelight,andadded,’Ifyouwantawayofthinkingaboutit,thenit’slikethedifferencebetweenstoppinglivingandbeingdead.’

           TwentyminutesearlierMorthadbeenfeelingtiredenoughtotakeroot.Nowhecouldfeelafizzinginhisblood.Itwasthekindoflate-night,franticenergythatyouknewyouwouldpayforaroundmiddaytomorrow,butfornowhefelthehadtohavesomeactionorelsehismuscleswouldsnapoutofsheervitality.

           ’Iwanttoseeher,’hesaid.’Ifyoucan’tdoanything,theremightbesomethingIcando.’

           There’sguardsoutsideherroom,’saidCutwell.’Imentionthismerelyasanobservation.Idon’timagineforoneminutethatthey’llmaketheslightestdifference.’

           ItwasmidnightinAnkh-Morpork,butinthegreattwincitytheonlydifferencebetweennightanddaywas,well,itwasdarker.