Мор - ученик смерти

           DUNG,BOY.DUNG.ALBERTHASACOMPOSTHEAPINTHEGARDEN.IIMAGINETHERE’SAWHEELBARROWSOMEWHEREONTHEPREMISES.GETONWITHIT.

           Mortnoddedmournfully.’Yes,sir.Isee,sir.Sir?’

           YES?

           ’Sir,Idon’tseewhatthishastodowiththesecretsoftimeandspace.’

           Deathdidnotlookupfromhisbook.

           THAT,hesaid,isBECAUSEYOUAREHERETOLEARN.

           ItisafactthatalthoughtheDeathoftheDiscworldis,inhisownwords,anANTHROPOMORPHICPERSONIFICATION,helongagogaveupusingthetraditionalskeletalhorses,becauseofthebotherofhavingtostopallthetimetowirebitsbackon.Nowhishorseswerealwaysflesh-and-bloodbeasts,fromthefineststock.

           And,Mortlearned,verywellfed.

           Somejobsofferincrements.Thisoneoffered–well,quitethereverse,butatleastitwasinthewarmandfairlyeasytogetthehangof.Afterawhilehegotintotherhythmofit,andstartedplayingtheprivatelittlequantity-surveyinggamethateveryoneplaysinthesecircumstances.Let’ssee,hethought,I’vedonenearlyaquarter,let’scallitathird,sowhenI’vedonethatcornerbythehayrackit’llbemorethanhalf,callitfive-eighths,whichmeansthreemorewheelbarrowloads....