Мор - ученик смерти

           Deathstoppedbyadecrepitwaterbuttandplungedhisarminatfulllength,bringingoutasmallsackwithabricktiedtoit.Hedrewhissword,alineofflickeringbluefireinthedarkness,andslicedthroughthestring.

           IGETVERYANGRYINDEED,hesaid.HeupendedthesackandMortwatchedthepatheticscrapsofsoddenfurslideout,tolieintheirspreadingpuddleonthecobbles.Deathreachedoutwithhiswhitefingersandstrokedthemgently.

           Afterawhilesomethinglikegreysmokecurledupfromthekittensandformedthreesmallcat-shapedcloudsintheair.Theybillowedoccasionally,unsureoftheirshape,andblinkedatMortwithpuzzledgreyeyes.Whenhetriedtotouchonehishandwentstraightthroughit,andtingled.

           YOUDON’TSEEPEOPLEATTHEIRBESTINTHISJOB,aidDeath.Heblewonakitten,sendingitgentlytumbling.Itsmiaowofcomplaintsoundedasthoughithadcomefromalongwayawayviaatintube.

           They’resouls,aren’tthey?’saidMort.’Whatdopeoplelooklike?’

           PEOPLESHAPED,saidDeath.IT’SBASICALLYALLOWNTOTHECHARACTERISTICMORPHOGENETICFIELD.

           Hesighedliketheswishofashroud,pickedthekittensoutoftheair,andcarefullystowedthemawaysomewhereinthedarkrecessesofhisrobe.Hestoodup.

           CURRYTIME,hesaid.