Мор - ученик смерти

           ’Gosh!’

           Deathleanedoverthesaddleandlookeddownatthekingdomsoftheworld.

           IDON’TKNOWABOUTYOU,heSaid,BUTICOULDMURDERACURRY.

           AlthoughitwaswellaftermidnightthetwincityofAnkh-Morporkwasroaringwithlife.MorthadthoughtSheepridgelookedbusy,butcomparedtotheturmoilofthestreetaroundhimthetownwas,well,amorgue.

           PoetshavetriedtodescribeAnkh-Morpork.Theyhavefailed.Perhapsit’sthesheerzestfulvitalityoftheplace,ormaybeit’sjustthatacitywithamillioninhabitantsandnosewersisratherrobustforpoets,whopreferdaffodilsandnowonder.Solet’sjustsaythatAnkh-Morporkisasfulloflifeasanoldcheeseonahotday,asloudasacurseinacathedral,asbrightasanoilslick,ascolourfulasabruiseandasfullofactivity,industry,bustleandsheerexuberantbusynessasadeaddogonatermitemound.

           Thereweretemples,theirdoorswideopen,fillingthestreetswiththesoundsofgongs,cymbalsand,inthecaseofsomeofthemoreconservativefundamentalistreligions,thebriefscreamsofthevictims.Therewereshopswhosestrangewaresspilledoutontothepavement.Thereseemedtoberatheralotoffriendlyyoungladieswhocouldn’taffordmanyclothes.Therewereflares,andjugglers,andassortedsellersofinstanttranscendence.

           AndDeathstalkedthroughitall.Morthadhalfexpectedhimtopassthroughthecrowdslikesmoke,butitwasn’tlikethatatall.ThesimpletruthwasthatwhereverDeathwalked,peoplejustdriftedoutoftheway.

           Itdidn’tworklikethatforMort.