Мор - ученик смерти

           AlberttookMort’sarmand,withconsiderabledramaticwagglingofhiseyebrows,indicatedthattheyshouldhavealittletalkinthecorner.Morttrailedafterhimreluctantly.

           Theoldmanrummagedinhispocketsandatlastproducedabatteredpaperbag.

           ’Peppermint?’heenquired.

           Mortshookhishead.

           ’Henevertellyouaboutthenodes?’saidAlbert.

           Mortshook’hisheadagain.Albertgavehispeppermintasuck;itsoundedliketheplugholeinthebathofGod.

           ’Howoldareyou,lad?’

           ’Mort.I’msixteen.’

           ’There’ssomethingsaladoughttobetolebeforehe’ssixteen,’saidAlbert,lookingoverhisshoulderatYsabell,whowassobbinginDeath’schair.

           ’Oh,Iknowaboutthat.Myfathertoldmeallaboutthatwhenweusedtotakethethargastobemated.Whenamanandawoman—’

           ’AbouttheuniverseiswhatImeant,’saidAlberthurriedly.’Imean,haveyoueverthoughtaboutit?’

           ’IknowtheDisciscarriedthroughspaceonthebacksoffourelephantsthatstandontheshellofGreatA’Tuin,’saidMort.

           ’That’sjustpartofit.Imeantthewholeuniverseoftimeandspaceandlifeanddeathanddayandnightandeverything.’

           ’Can’tsayI’veevergivenitmuchthought,’saidMort.

           ’Ah.Youought.Thepointis,thenodesarepartofit.Theystopdeathfromgettingoutofcontrol,see.Nothim,notDeath.Justdeathitself.