Мор - ученик смерти

           Andstridingoutofit,mutteringtohimself,wasAlbert.

           Thewizardsatthebackofthecrowdstartedtohaveitawayasquicklyandquietlyaspossible.Therewasn’toneofthemthathadn’t,atsometimeinhisjollyyouth,putacommonbedroomutensilonoldAlbert’sheadorcarvedhisnamesomewhereonthestatue’schillyanatomy,orspilledbeeronthepedestal.Worsethanthat,too,duringRagWeekwhenthedrinkflowedquicklyandtheprivyseemedtoofartostagger.Thesehadallseemedhilariousideasatthetime.Theysuddenlydidn’t,now.

           Onlytwofiguresremainedtofacethestatue’swrath,onebecausehehadgothisrobecaughtinthedoorandtheotherbecausehewas,infact,anapeandcouldthereforetakearelaxedattitudetohumanaffairs.

           Albertgrabbedthewizard,whowastryingdesperatelytowalkintothewall.Themansquealed.

           ’Allright,allright,Iadmitit!Iwasdrunkatthetime,believeme,didn’tmeanit,gosh,I’msorry,I’msosorry—’

           ’Whatareyoubleatingabout,man?’saidAlbert,genuinelypuzzled.

           ’—sosorry,ifItriedtotellyouhowsorryIamwe’d—’

           ’Stopthisbloodynonsense!’Albertglanceddownatthelittleape,whogavehimawarmfriendlysmile.’What’syourname,man?’

           ’Yes,sir,I’llstop,sir,rightaway,nomorenonsense,sir...Rincewind,sir.Assistantlibrarian,ifit’sallrightbyyou.’

           Albertlookedhimupanddown.Themanhadadesperatescuffedlook,likesomethingleftoutforthelaundry.