Мор - ученик смерти

           Foramomenthewatchedthesizzlingwalloftheinterfacedriftingnearer.He’dsurviveit,hehoped,andsowouldYsabell.Cutwellwouldn’t,butaCutwellwould.OnlyKeli—

           ’AmIgoingtobecrownedornot?’shesaidicily.’I’vegottodieaqueen!It’dbeterribletobedeadandcommon!’

           Mortgaveheranunfocusedlook,tryingtorememberwhatonearthshewastalkingabout.Ysabellfishedaroundinthewreckagebehindthealtar,andcameupwitharatherbatteredgoldcircletsetwithsmalldiamonds.

           ’Isthisit?’shesaid.

           That’sthecrown,’saidKeli,nearlyintears.’Butthere’snopriestoranything.’

           Mortsigheddeeply.

           ’Cutwell,ifthisisourownrealitywecanrearrangeitthewaywewant,can’twe?’

           ’Whathadyouinmind?’

           ’You’renowapriest.Nameyourowngod.’

           Cutwellcurtsied,andtookthecrownfromYsabell.

           ’You’reallmakingfunofme!’snappedKeli.

           ’Sorry,’saidMort,wearily.’It’sbeenratheralongday.’

           ’IhopeIcandothisright,’saidCutwellsolemnly.’I’venevercrownedanyonebefore.’

           ’I’veneverbeencrownedbefore!’

           ’Good,’saidCutwellsoothingly.’Wecanlearntogether.’Hestartedtomuttersomeimpressivewordsinastrangetongue.Itwasinfactasimplespellforriddingtheclothingoffleas,buthethought,whatthehell.Andthenhethought,gosh,inthisrealityI’mthemostpowerfulwizardthereeverwas,that’dbesomethingtotellmygrandch...Hegrittedhisteeth.There’dbesomeruleschangedinthisreality,thatwasforsure.