Мор - ученик смерти

           Hedartedbackintothepriest’srobingroomandstruggledintothespecialceremonialrobethepalaceseamstresshadmadeupforhim,diggingdeepintoherworkbasketforscrapsoflace,equinsandgoldthreadtoproduceagarmentofuchdazzlingtastelessnessthateventheArchChancellorofUnseenUniversitywouldn’thavebeenashamedtowearit.Cutwellallowedhimselffivesecondstoadmirehimselfinthemirrorbeforerammingthepointyhatonhisheadandrunningbacktothedoor,stoppingjustintimetoemergeatasedatepaceasbefittedapersonofsubstance.

           HereachedtheHighPriestasKelistartedheradvanceupthecentralaisle,flankedbymaidservantswhofussedaroundherliketugsaroundaliner.

           Despitethedrawbacksofthehereditarydress,Cutwellthoughtshelookedbeautiful.Therewassomethingaboutherthatmadehim—

           Hegrittedhisteethandtriedtoconcentrateonthesecurityarrangements.HehadputguardsatvariousvantagepointsinthehallincasetheDukeofStoHelittriedanylast-minuterearrangementoftheroyalsuccession,andremindedhimselftokeepaspecialeyeonthedukehimself,whowassittinginthefrontrowofseatswithastrangequietsmileonhisface.ThedukecaughtCutwell’seye,andthewizardhastilylookedaway.

           TheHighPriesthelduphishandsforsilence.CutwellsidledtowardshimastheoldmanturnedtowardstheHubandinacrackedvoicebegantheinvocationtothegods.

           Cutwelllethiseyesslipbacktowardstheduke.’