Мор - ученик смерти

           ’Morefoolthem,then.’Albertreachedthefootofthestepsintothelibraryproper,stampedupthemandstoodoutlinedagainstthecandlelightfromthelibrary.

           ’Youmeanyouwon’thelp?’saidMort.’Notevenifyoucan?’

           ’Givetheboyaprize,’growledAlbert.’Andit’snogoodthinkingyoucanappealtomybetternatureunderthisherecrustyexterior,’headded,’cosmyinterior’sprettydamncrustytoo.’

           Theyheardhimcrossthelibraryfloorasthoughhehadagrudgeagainstit,andslamthedoorbehindhim.

           ’Well,’saidMort,uncertainly.

           ’Whatdidyouexpect?’snappedYsabell.’Hedoesn’tcareforanyonemuchexceptfather.’

           ’It’sjustthatIthoughtsomeonelikehimwouldhelpifIexplaineditproperly,’saidMort.Hesagged.Therushofenergythathadpropelledhimthroughthelongnighthadevaporated,fillinghismindwithlead.’Youknowhewasafamouswizard?’

           Thatdoesn’tmeananything,wizardsaren’tnecessarilynice.Donotmeddleintheaffairsofwizardsbecausearefusaloftenoffends,Ireadsomewhere.’YsabellsteppedclosertoMortandpeeredathimwithsomeconcern.’Youlooklikesomethingleftonaplate,’shesaid.

           ’Mokay,’saidMort,walkingheavilyupthestepsandintothescratchingshadowsofthelibrary.

           ’You’renot.Youcoulddowithagoodnight’ssleep,mylad.’

           ’M’t,’murmuredMort.

           HefeltYsabellsliphisarmoverhershoulder.