Мор - ученик смерти

           ’Besides,therearenourgentmattersofstateunlessyourefertothoseinthesmallredbottlemarked"Antidote"intheblacklacqueredcabinetonthebambooruginyourquarters,OLampofMidnightOil.’

           TherewasaringingintheVizier’sears.Hisfacebegantogoblue.

           ’Yousee?’saidtheEmperor.’Untimelyactivityonaheavystomachisconducivetoillhumours.Maythismessagegoswiftlytoallcornersofmycountry,thatallmenmayknowofyourunfortunateconditionandderiveinstructionthereby.’

           ’I...must...congratulateyour...Personageonsuch...consideration,’saidtheVizier,andfellforwardintoadishofboiledsoft-shelledcrabs.

           ’Ihadanexcellentteacher,’saidtheEmperor.

           ABOUTTIME,TOO,saidMort,andswungthesword.

           AmomentlaterthesouloftheViziergotupfromthematandlookedMortupanddown.

           ’Whoareyou,barbarian?’hesnapped.

           DEATH.

           ’NotmyDeath,’saidtheVizierfirmly.’Where’stheBlackCelestialDragonofFire?’

           HECOULDN’TCOME,saidMort.TherewereshadowsformingintheairbehindtheVizier’ssoul.Severalofthemworeemperor’srobes,buttherewereplentyofothersjostlingthem,andtheyalllookedmostanxioustowelcomethenewcomertothelandsofthedead.

           ’Ithinkthere’ssomepeopleheretoseeyou,’saidMort,andhurriedaway.AshereachedthepassagewaytheVizier’ssoulstartedtoscream....

           YsabellwasstandingpatientlybyBinky,whowasmakingalatelunchofafive-hundred-year-oldbonsaitree.

           ’Onedown,’saidMort,climbingintothesaddle.