Мор - ученик смерти

           TheGreatSpellscouldofdoneit.Nothingelse.Andthat’sit,soyoumightaswelldoasyoupleaseandthebestoflucktoyou.’

           Ysabellcameback,alittleoutofbreath,clutchingthelatestvolumeofAlbert’slife.Albertsniffedagain.ThetinydripontheendofhisnosefascinatedMort.Itwasalwaysonthepointofdroppingoffbutneverhadthecourage.Justlikehim,hethought.

           ’Youcan’tdoanythingtomewiththebook,’saidtheoldwizardwarily.

           ’Idon’tintendto.Butitstrikesmethatyoudon’tgettobeapowerfulwizardbytellingthetruthallthetime.Ysabell,readoutwhat’sbeingwritten.’

           ’"Albertlookedathimuncertainly",’Ysabellread.

           ’Youcan’tbelieveeverythingwritdownthere—’

           ’—"heburstout,knowingintheflintypitofhisheartthatMortcertainlycould",’Ysabellread.

           ’Stopit!’

           ’"heshouted,tryingtoputatthebackofhismindtheknowledgethatevenifRealitycouldnotbestoppeditmightbepossibletoslowitdownalittle".’

           HOW?

           ’"intonedMortintheleadentonesofDeath",’beganYsabelldutifully.

           ’Yes,yes,allright,youneedn’tbotherwithmybit,’snappedMortirritably.

           ’Pardonmeforliving,I’msure.’

           NO-ONEGETSPARDONEDFORLIVING.

           ’Anddon’ttalklikethattome,thankyou.Itdoesn’tfrightenme,’shesaid.Sheglanceddownatthebook,wherethemovinglineofwritingwascallingheraliar.

           Tellmehow,wizard,’saidMort.

           ’Mymagic’sallI’vegotleft!’wailedAlbert.