Мор - ученик смерти

           Andforheaven’ssakeputonsomethingsensible,you’reoverflowing.’

           Ysabelllookeddown,andthenherheadsnappedup.

           ’Well!’

           Mortpokedhisheadbackroundthedoor.’It’samatteroflifeanddeath,’headded,anddisappeared.

           Ysabellwatchedthedoorcreakshutafterhim,revealingthebluedressinggownwiththetasselsthatDeathhadthoughtupforherasapresentlastHogswatchandwhichshehadn’tthehearttothrowaway,despitethefactthatitwasasizetoosmallandhadarabbitonthepocket.

           Finallysheswungherlegsoutofbed,slippedintotheshamefuldressinggown,andpaddedoutintothecorridor.Mortwaswaitingforher.

           ’Won’tfatherhearus?’shesaid.

           ’He’snotback.Comeon.’

           ’Howcanyoutell?’

           ’Theplacefeelsdifferentwhenhe’shere.It’s–it’slikethedifferencebetweenacoatwhenit’sbeingwornandwhenit’shangingonahook.Haven’tyounoticed?’

           ’Whatarewedoingthat’ssoimportant?’

           Mortpushedopenthelibrarydoor.Agustofwarm,dryairdriftedout,andthedoorhingesissuedaprotestingcreak.

           ’We’regoingtosavesomeone’slife,’hesaid.’Aprincess,actually.’

           Ysabellwasinstantlyfascinated.

           ’Arealprincess?Imeancanshefeelapeathroughadozenmattresses?’

           ’Canshe—?’Mortfeltaminorworrydisappear.’Oh.Yes.IthoughtAlberthadgotitwrong.’

           ’Areyouinlovewithher?’

           Mortcametoastandstillbetweentheshelves,awareofthebusylittlescritchingsinsidethebookcovers.

           ’It’shardtobesure,’hesaid.