Мор - ученик смерти

           Whatarewegoingtodo?’

           ’Holdtight!’

           Binkyglidedthroughthesmashedgatesoftheoutercourtyard,slidacrossthecobblesinatrailofsparksandleaptthroughtheravageddoorwayofthehall.Thepearlywalloftheinterfaceloomedupandpassedlikeashockofcoldspray.

           MorthadaconfusedvisionofKeliandCutwellandagroupoflargemendivingfortheirlives.Herecognisedthefeaturesofthedukeanddrewhissword,vaultingfromthesaddleassoonasthesteaminghorseskiddedtoahalt.

           ’Don’tyoulayafingeronher!’hescreamed.’I’llhaveyourheadoff!’

           ’Thisiscertainlymostimpressive,’saidtheduke,drawinghisownsword.’Andalsoveryfoolish.I—’

           Hestopped.Hiseyesglazedover.Hetoppledforward.Cutwellputdownthebigsilvercandlestickhe’dwieldedandgaveMortanapologeticsmile.

           Mortturnedtowardstheguards,theblueflameofDeath’sswordhummingthroughtheair.

           ’Anyoneelsewantsome?’hesnarled.Theybackedaway,andthenturnedandran.Astheypassedthroughtheinterfacetheyvanished.Therewerenoguestsoutsidethere,either.Intherealrealitythehallwasdarkandempty.

           Thefourofthemwereleftinahemispherethatwasrapidlygrowingsmaller.

           MortsidledovertoCutwell.

           ’Anyideas?’hesaid.’I’vegotamagicspellheresomewhere—’

           ’Forgetit.IfItryanymagicinherenowit’llblowourheadsoff.Thislittlerealityistoosmalltocontainit.’

           Mortsaggedagainsttheremainsofthealtar.Hefeltempty,drained.