Мор - ученик смерти

           ’Ifyoudrink,thatis.It’sraspberryport.Onthedresser.Youmightaswellfinishthebottle.’

           Morteyedthedressersuspiciously.Hefelthe’dratherlosttheinitiative.Hepulledoutthehourglassandglaredatit.Therewasalittleheapofsandleft.

           There’sstillafewminutesyet,’saidthewitch,withoutlookingup.

           ’How,Imean,HOWDOYOUKNOW?’

           Sheignoredhim,anddriedtheinkinfrontofthecandle,sealedtheletterwithadripofwax,andtuckeditunderthecandlestick.Thenshepickedupthecat.

           ’GrannyBeedlewillbearounddirectlytomorrowtotidyupandyou’retogowithher,understand?AndseesheletsGammerNutleyhavethepinkmarblewashstand,she’shadhereyeonitforyears.’

           Thecatyawpedknowingly.

           ’Ihaven’t,thatis,IHAVEN’TGOTALLNIGHT,YOUKNOW,’saidMortreproachfully.

           ’Youhave,Ihaven’t,andthere’snoneedtoshout,’saidthewitch.SheslidoffherstallandthenMortsawhowbentshewas,likeabow.Withsomedifficultysheunhookedatallpointedhatfromitsnailonthewall,skewereditintoplaceonherwhitehairwithabatteryofhatpins,andgraspedtwowalkingsticks.

           ShetotteredacrossthefloortowardsMort,andlookedupathimwitheyesassmallandbrightasblackcurrants.