Мор - ученик смерти

           ’No,Imean...’Morthesitated.’It’sjustthatIcan’tseehimsittingdowntoacoupleofrashersandafriedslice.’

           Albertgrinned.’Oh,hedoesn’t,lad.Notasaregularthing,no.Veryeasytocaterfor,themaster.Ijustcookformeand—’hepaused–’theyounglady,ofcourse.’

           Mortnodded.’Yourdaughter,’hesaid.

           ’Mine?Ha,’saidAlbert.’You’rewrongthere.She’shis.’

           Mortstareddownathisfriedeggs.Theystaredbackfromtheirlakeoffat.Alberthadheardofnutritionalvalues,anddidn’tholdwiththem.

           ’Arewetalkingaboutthesameperson?’hesaidatlast.Tall,wearsblack,he’sabit...skinny.

           ’Adopted,’saidAlbert,kindly.’It’sratheralongstory—’

           Abelljangledbyhishead.

           ’—whichwillhavetowait.Hewantstoseeyouinhisstudy.IshouldrunalongifIwereyou.Hedoesn’tliketobekeptwaiting.Understandable,really.Upthestepsandfirstontheleft.Youcan’tmissit—’

           ’It’sgotskullsandbonesaroundthedoor?’saidMort,pushingbackhischair.

           Theyallhave,mostofthem,’sighedAlbert.’It’sonlyhisfancy.Hedoesn’tmeananythingbyit.’

           Leavinghisbreakfasttocongeal,Morthurriedupthesteps,alongthecorridorandpausedinfrontofthefirstdoor.Heraisedhishandtoknock.