Мор - ученик смерти

           Helookeddownandsawthelandscapespreadoutbelowhim,thenightetchedwithmoonlightsilver.Ifhefelloff,theonlythinghe’dhitwasair.

           Heredoubledhisgriponthesaddle.

           ThenDeathsaid,AREYOUHUNGRY,BOY?

           ’Yes,sir.’Thewordscamestraightfromhisstomachwithouttheinterventionofhisbrain.

           Deathnodded,andreinedinthehorse.Itstoodontheair,thegreatcircularpanoramaoftheDiscglitteringbelowit.Hereandthereacitywasanrangeglow;inthewarmseasnearertheRimtherewasahintofphosphorescence.InsomeofthedeepvalleysthetrappeddaylightoftheDisc,whichisslowandslightlyheavy,wasevaporatinglikesilversteam.

           ButitwasoutshonebytheglowthatrosetowardsthestarsfromtheRimitself.Vaststreamersoflightshimmeredandglitteredacrossthenight.Greatgoldenwallssurroundedtheworld.

           ’It’sbeautiful,’saidMortsoftly.’Whatisit?’

           THESUNisUNDERTHEDisc,saidDeath.

           ’Isitlikethiseverynight?’

           EVERYNIGHT,saidDeath.NATURE’SLIKETHAT.

           ’Doesn’tanyoneknow?’

           ME.You.THEGODS.GOOD,ISIT?