Мор - ученик смерти

           ’Right,’saidCutwell.Hetookanotherswig,andshuddered.’Fine.Howtowalkthroughwalls.I’lldosomeresearch.Itmightbeexpensive,though.’

           Mortcarefullypickedupthebagandpulledoutonesmallgoldcoin.

           ’Adownpayment,’hesaid,puttingitonthetable.

           Cutwellpickedupthecoinasifheexpectedittogobangorevaporate,andexamineditcarefully.

           ’I’veneverseenthissortofcoinbefore,’hesaidaccusingly.’What’sallthiscurlywriting?’

           ’It’sgold,though,isn’tit?’saidMort.’Imean,youdon’thavetoacceptit—’

           ’Sure,sure,it’sgold,’saidCutwellhurriedly.’It’sgoldallright.Ijustwonderedwhereithadcomefrom,that’sall.’

           ’Youwouldn’tbelieveme,’saidMort.’Whattime’ssunsetaroundhere?’

           ’Wenormallymanagetofititinbetweennightandday,’saidCutwell,stillstaringatthecoinandtakinglittlesipsfromthebluebottle.’Aboutnow.’

           Mortglancedoutofthewindow.Thestreetoutsidealreadyhadatwilightlooktoit.

           ’I’llbeback,’hemuttered,andmadeforthedoor.Heheardthewizardcalloutsomething,butMortwasheadingdownthestreetatadeadrun.

           Hestartedtopanic.Deathwouldbewaitingforhimfortymilesaway.Therewouldbearow.Therewouldbeaterrible—

           AH,BOY.