Мор - ученик смерти

           Thecrowdsthatgentlypartedforhisnewmasterclosedagainjustintimetogetinhisway.Histoesgottroddenon,hisribswerebruised,peoplekepttryingtosellhimunpleasantspicesandsuggestively-shapedvegetables,andaratherelderlyladysaid,againstalltheevidence,thathelookedawellset-upyoungladwhowouldlikeanicetune.

           Hethankedherverymuch,andsaidthathehopedhewashavinganicetunealready.

           Deathreachedthestreetcorner,thelightfromtheflaresraisingbrillianthighlightsontheolisheddomeofhisskull,andsniffedtheair.Adrunkstaggeredup,andwithoutquiterealisingwhymadeaslightdetourinhiserraticpassagefornovisiblereason.THISISTHECITY,BOY,saidDeath.WHATDOYOUTHINK?

           ’It’sverybig,’saidMort,uncertainly.’Imean,whydoeseveryonewanttoliveallsqueezedtogetherlikethis?’

           Deathshrugged.

           ILIKEIT,hesaid.IT’SFULLOFLIFE.

           ’Sir?’

           YES?

           ’What’sacurry?’

           ThebluefiresflareddeepintheeyesofDeath.