Мор - ученик смерти

           That’snotfair!’Nowitwasawhine.THERE’SNOJUSTICE.THERE’SJUSTME.

           ’Stopit,’saidYsabell.’Mort,you’rebeingsilly.Youcan’tkillanyonehere.Anyway,youdon’treallywanttokillAlbert.’

           ’Nothere.ButIcouldsendhimbacktotheworld.’

           Albertwentpale.

           ’Youwouldn’t!’

           ’No?Icantakeyoubackandleaveyouthere.Ishouldn’tthinkyou’vegotmuchtimeleft,haveyou?’HAVEYOU?

           ’Don’ttalklikethat,’saidAlbert,quitefailingtomeethisgaze.’Yousoundlikethemasterwhenyoutalklikethat.’

           ’Icouldbealotworsethanthemaster,’saidMortevenly.’Ysabell,goandgetAlbert’sbook,willyou?’

           ’Mort,Ireallythinkyou’re—’

           SHALLIASKYOUAGAIN?

           Shefledfromtheroom,white-faced.

           AlbertsquintedatMortalongthelengthofthesword,andsmiledalop-sided,humourlesssmile.

           ’Youwon’tbeabletocontrolitforever,’hesaid.

           ’Idon’twantto.Ijustwanttocontrolitforlongenough.’

           ’You’rereceptivenow,see?Thelongerthemasterisaway,themoreyou’llbecomejustlikehim.Onlyit’llbeworse,becauseyou’llrememberallaboutbeinghumanand—’

           ’Whataboutyou,then?’snappedMort.’Whatcanyourememberaboutbeinghuman?Ifyouwentback,howmuchlifehaveyougotleft?’

           ’Ninety-onedays,threehoursandfiveminutes,’saidAlbertpromptly.’Iknewhewasonmytrail,see?ButI’msafehereandhe’snotsuchabadmaster.SometimesIdon’tknowwhathe’ddowithoutme.’