Мор - ученик смерти

           TheyoungSunEmperorwassittingcrossleggedattheheadofthematwithhiscloakofvermineandfeathersspreadoutbehindhim.Helookedasthoughhewasoutgrowingit.TherestoftheCourtwassittingaroundthematinstrictandcomplicatedorderofprecedence,buttherewasnomistakingtheVizier,whowastuckingintohisbowlofsquishiandboiledseaweedinahighlysuspiciousfashion.No-oneseemedtobeabouttodie.

           Mortpaddedalongthepassage,turnedthecornerandnearlywalkedintoseverallargemembersoftheHeavenlyGuard,whowereclusteredaroundaspyholeinthepaperwallandpassingacigarettefromhandtohandinthatpalm-cuppedwayofsoldiersonduty.

           Hetiptoedbacktothelatticeandoverheardtheconversationthus:

           ’Iamthemostunfortunateofmortals,OImmanentPresence,tofindsuchasthisinmyotherwisesatisfactorysquishi,’saidtheVizier,extendinghischopsticks.

           TheCourtcranedtosee.SodidMort.Mortcouldn’thelpagreeingwiththestatement,though–thethingwasasortofblue-greenlumpwithrubberytubesdanglingfromit.

           Theprepareroffoodwillbedisciplined,NoblePersonageofScholarship,’saidtheEmperor.’Whogotthespareribs?’

           ’No,OPerceptiveFatherofYourPeople,Iwasratherreferringtothefactthatthisis,Ibelieve,thebladderandspleenofthedeepwaterpuffeel,allegedlythemosttastyofmorselstotheextentthatitmaybeeatenonlybythosebelovedofthegodsthemselvesorsoitiswritten,amongsuchcompanyofcourseIdonotincludemymiserableself.’