Мор - ученик смерти

           Ifhetriedhardhecouldimagineaflickerinthesky.Ifhereallystrainedhisimaginationhecouldhearabuzzingoutoverthecabbagefields,asoundlikesomeonefryinglocusts.Heshivered.

           Atatimelikethishishandsautomaticallypattedhispockets,andfoundnothingbuthalfabagofjellybabies,meltedintoastickymass,andanapplecore.Neitherofferedmuchconsolation.

           WhatCutwellwantedwaswhatanynormalwizardwantedatatimelikethis,whichwasasmoke.He’dhavekilledforacigar,andwouldhavegoneasfarasafleshwoundforasquasheddog-end.Hepulledhimselftogether.Resolutionwasgoodforthemoralfibre;theonlytroublewasthefibredidn’tappreciatethesacrificeshewasmakingforit.Theysaidthatatrulygreatwizardshouldbepermanentlyundertension.YoucouldhaveusedCutwellforabowstring.

           Heturnedhisbackonthebrassica-edlandscapeandmadehiswaybackdownthewindingstepstothemainpartofthepalace.

           Still,hetoldhimself,thecampaignappearedtobeworking.Thepopulationdidn’tseemtoberesistingthefactthattherewasgoingtobeacoronation,althoughtheyweren’texactlyclearaboutwhowasgoingtobecrowned.TherewasgoingtobebuntinginthestreetsandCutwellhadarrangedforthetownsquare’smainfountaintorun,ifnotwithwine,thenatleastwithanacceptablebeermadefrombroccoli.Therewasgoingtobefolkdancing,atswordpointifnecessary.Therewouldberacesforchildren.Therewouldbeanoxroast.