Мор - ученик смерти

           I’llbringBinkyroundtothefrontdoor.’

           ’Domyeyeslookallrighttoyou?’saidMort,anxiously.

           ’NothingwrongwiththemthatIcansee,’saidAlbert.’Bitredroundtheedges,bitbluerthanusual,nothingspecial.’

           Mortfollowedhimbackpastthelongshelvesofglass,lookingthoughtful.Ysabellwatchedhimtaketheswordfromtherackbythedoorandtestitsedgebyswishingitthroughtheair,justasDeathdid,andgrinningmirthlesslyatthesatisfactorysoundofthethunderclap.

           Sherecognisedthewalk.Hewasstalking.

           ’Mort?’shewhispered.

           YES?

           ’Something’shappeningtoyou.’

           IKNOW,saidMort.’ButIthinkIcancontrolit.’

           Theyheardthesoundofhoovesoutside,andAlbertpushedthedooropenandcameinrubbinghishands.

           ’Right,lad,notimeto—’

           Mortswungtheswordatarm’slength.ItscythedthroughtheairwithanoiselikerippingsilkandburieditselfinthedoorpostbyAlbert’sear.

           ONYOURKNEES,ALBERTOMALICH.

           Albert’smouthdroppedopen.Hiseyesrolledsidewaystotheshimmeringbladeafewinchesfromhishead,andthennarrowedtotightlittlelines.

           ’Yousurelywouldn’tdare,boy,’hesaid.

           MORT.Thesyllablesnappedoutasfastasawhiplashandtwiceasvicious.

           Therewasapact,’saidAlbert,buttherewasthebarestgnat-songofdoubtinhisvoice.Therewasanagreement.’

           ’Notwithme.’

           Therewasanagreement!Wherewouldwebeifwecouldnothonouranagreement?’

           ’Idon’tknowwhereIwouldbe,’saidMortsoftly.

           BUTIKNOWWHEREYOUWOULDGO.