Мор - ученик смерти

           ’Cutwell!’snappedMort.Thewizardnodded,caughtKeliaroundthewaistandbodilyhoistedherontoBinky’sback.HoistinghisskirtsaroundhiswaistheclamberedupbehindMortandreacheddownandswungYsabellupbehindhim.Thehorsejiggedacrossthefloor,complainingabouttheoverloading,butMortturnedhimtowardsthebrokendoorwayandurgedhimforward.

           Theinterfacefollowedthemastheyclattereddownthehallandintothecourtyard,risingslowly.Itspearlyfogwasonlyyardsaway,tighteningbyinches.

           ’Excuseme,’saidCutwelltoYsabell,raisinghishat.’IgneousCutwell,WizardIstGrade(UU),formerRoyalRecogniserandsoontobebeheadedprobably.Wouldyouhappentoknowwherewearegoing?’

           Tomyfather’scountry,’shoutedYsabell,abovethewindoftheirpassage.

           ’HaveIevermethim?’

           ’Idon’tthinkso.You’dhaveremembered.’

           ThetopofthepalacewallscrapedBinky’shoovesas,musclesstraining,hesoughtformoreheight.Cutwellleanedbackwardagain,holdingontohishat.

           ’Whoisthisgentlemanofwhichwespeak?’heyelled.

           ’Death,’saidYsabell.

           ’Not—’

           ’Yes.’

           ’Oh.’Cutwellpeereddownatthedistantrooftops,andgaveheralopsidedsmile.’WoulditsavetimeifIjustjumpedoffnow?’

           ’He’squiteniceifyougettoknowhim,’saidYsabelldefensively.

           ’Ishe?Doyouthinkwe’llgetthechance?’

           ’Holdon!’saidMort.’Weshouldbegoingacrossjustabout—’

           Aholefullofblacknessrushedoutoftheskyandcaughtthem.