Мор - ученик смерти

           ’Can’tseemtorememberwhathappenedtohim.Boys?’

           ’Wegivehimagoodtalking-to—’

           ’—andlefthiminPorkPassage—’

           ’—andinHoneyLane—’

           ’—andacoupleotherplacesIcan’tremember.’

           Thestrangerstoodup.Theboysclosedinaroundhim.

           THISISUNCALLEDFOR.ISEEKONLYTOLEARN.WHATPLEASURECANHUMANSFINDINAMEREREITERATIONOFTHELAWSOFCHANCE?

           ’Chancedoesn’tcomeintoit.Let’shavealookathim,boys.’

           Theeventsthatfollowedwererecalledbynolivingsoulexcepttheonebelongingtoaferalcat,oneofthecity’sthousands,thatwascrossingthealleyenroutetoatryst.Itstoppedandwatchedwithinterest.

           Theboysfrozeinmid-stab.Painfulpurplelightflickeredaroundthem.Thestrangerpushedhishoodbackandpickedupthedice,andthenpushedthemintoWa’sunresistinghand.Themanwasopeningandshuttinghismouth,hiseyesunsuccessfullytryingnottoseewhatwasinfrontofthem.Grinning.

           THROW.

           Wamanagedtolookdownathishand.

           ’Whatarethestakes?’hewhispered.

           IFYOUWIN,YOUWILLREFRAINFROMTHESERIDICULOUSATTEMPTSTOSUGGESTTHATCHANCEGOVERNSTHEAFFAIRSOFMEN.

           ’Yes.Yes.And...ifIlose?’

           YOUWILLWISHYOUHADWON.

           Watriedtoswallow,buthisthroathadgonedry.’IknowI’vehadlotsofpeoplemurdered—’

           TWENTY-THREE,TOBEPRECISE.

           ’IsittoolatetosayI’msorry?’

           SUCHTHINGSDONOTCONCERNME.NOWTHROWTHEDICE.

           Washuthiseyesanddroppedthediceontotheground,toonervouseventotrythespecialflick-and-twistthrow.