Мор - ученик смерти

           ’Yes,but,yousee—’

           ’Goodman,’saidtheChancellorbriskly,’knewwecouldrelyonyou.Plentyofrockets,youunderstand,andtofinishwiththeremustbeaset-piece,mindyou,somethingreallybreathtakinglikeaportraitof–of—’hiseyesglazedoverinawaythatwasbecomingdepressinglyfamiliartoCut-well.

           ’ThePrincessKeli,’hesaidwearily.

           ’Ah.Yes.Her,’saidtheChancellor.’Aportraitof–whoyousaid–infireworks.Ofcourse,it’sprobablyallprettysimplestufftoyouwizards,butthepeoplelikeit.Nothinglikeagoodblowoutandablowupandabitofbalconywavingtokeeptheloyaltymusclesintip-topshape,that’swhatIalwayssay.Seetoit.Rockets.Withruneson.’

           AnhouragoCutwellhadthumbedthroughtheindexofTheMonsterFunGrimoireandhadcautiouslyassembledanumberofcommonhouseholdingredientsandputamatchtothem.

           Funnythingabouteyebrows,hemused.Youneverreallynoticedthemuntilthey’dgone.

           Redaroundtheeyes,andsmellingslightlyofsmoke,Cutwellambledtowardstheroyalapartmentspastbeviesofmaidsengagedinwhateveritwasmaidsdid,whichalwaysseemedtotakeatleastthreeofthem.WhenevertheysawCutwelltheywouldusuallygosilent,hurrypastwiththeirheadsdownandthenbreakintomuffledgigglesalongthecorridor.ThisannoyedCutwell.Not–hetoldhimselfquickly–becauseofanypersonalconsiderations,butbecausewizardsoughttobeshownmorerespect.