Мор - ученик смерти

           Hecouldn’tthinkofanyotherpleasuresofthefleshor,rather,hecould,buttheywere,well,fleshy,andhecouldn’tseehowitwouldbepossibletogoaboutthemwithoutsomemajorbodilyrestructuring,whichhewasn’tgoingtocontemplate.Besides,humansseemedtoleaveoffdoingthemastheygrewolder,sopresumablytheycouldn’tbethatattractive.

           Deathbegantofeelthathewouldn’tunderstandpeopleaslongashelived.

           ThesunmadethecobblessteamandDeathfeltthefaintesttinglingofthatlittlespringtimeurgethatcansendathousandtonsofsappumpingthroughfiftyfeetoftimberinaforest.

           Theseagullsswoopedanddivedaroundhim.Aone-eyedcat,downtoitseighthlifeanditslastear,emergedfromitslairinaheapofabandonedfishboxes,stretched,yawned,andrubbeditselfagainsthislegs.Thebreeze,cuttingthroughAnkh’sfamoussmell,broughtahintofspicesandfreshbread.

           Deathwasbewildered.Hecouldn’tfightit.Hewasactuallyfeelinggladtobealive,andveryreluctanttobeDeath.

           IMUSTBESICKENINGFORSOMETHING,hethought.

           MorteasedhimselfuptheladderalongsideYsabell.Itwasshaky,butseemedtobesafe.Atleasttheheightdidn’tbotherhim;everythingbelowwasjustblackness.

           SomeofAlbert’searliervolumeswereverynearlyfallingapart.Hereachedoutforoneatrandom,feelingtheladdertrembleunderneaththemashedidso,broughtitbackandopeneditsomewhereinthemiddle.

           ’Movethecandlethisway,’hesaid.