Мор - ученик смерти

           Hemarkedeightpointsonitscircumferenceandjoinedthemuptoformanoctogram.Alowthrobbingbegantofilltheroom.

           AlbertoMalichsteppedintothecentreandheldthestaffabovehishead.Hefeltitwaketohisgrip,feltthetingleofthesleepingpowerunfolditselfslowlyanddeliberately,likeawakingtiger.Ittriggeredoldmemoriesofpowerandmagicthatbuzzedthroughthecobwebbedatticsofhismind.Hefeltaliveforthefirsttimeincenturies.

           Helickedhislips.Thethrobbinghaddiedaway,leavingastrange,waitingkindofsilence.

           Malichraisedhisheadandshoutedonesinglesyllable.

           Blue-greenfireflashedfrombothendsofthestaff.Streamsofoctarineflamespoutedfromtheeightpouitsoftheoctogramandenvelopedthewizard.Allthiswasn’tactuallynecessarytoaccomplishthespell,butwizardsconsiderappearancesareveryimportant....

           Soaredisappearances.Hevanished.

           StratohemisphericwindswhippedatMort’scloak.

           ’Wherearewegoingfirst?’yelledYsabellinhisear.

           ’BesPelargic!’shoutedMort,thegalewhirlinghiswordsaway.

           ’Where’sthat?’

           ’AgateanEmpire!CounterweightContinent!’

           Hepointeddownward.

           Hewasn’tforcingBinkyatthemoment,knowingthemilesthatlayahead,andthebigwhitehorsewascurrentlyrunningataneasygallopoutovertheocean.Ysabelllookeddownatroaringgreenwavestoppedwithwhitefoam,andclungtightertoMort.

           MortpeeredaheadatthecloudbankthatmarkedthedistantcontinentandresistedtheurgetohurryBinkyalongwiththeflatofhissword.