Mort (Discworld 4)

'Hurry up!'

'You'd better go and help him,' said Ysabell. 'He seems to be getting quite upset.'

Mort left her, his mind a sudden swamp of uneasiness, and stalked across the tiled floor to where Albert stood impatiently tapping a foot.

'What do I have to do?' he said.

'Just follow me.'

The room opened out into a series of passages, each one lined with the hourglasses. Here and there the shelves were divided by stone pillars inscribed with angular markings. Albert glanced at them occasionally; mainly he strode through the maze of sand as though he knew every turn by heart.

'Is there one glass for everyone, Albert?'

'Yes.'

'This place doesn't look big enough.'

'Do you know anything about m-dimensional topography?'

'Um. No.'

Then I shouldn't aspire to hold any opinions, if I was you,' said Albert.

He paused in front of a shelf of glasses, glanced at the paper again, ran his hand along the row and suddenly snatched up a glass. The top bulb was almost empty.

'Hold this,' he said. 'If this is right, then the other should be somewhere near. Ah. Here.'

Mort turned the two glasses around in his hands. One had all the markings of an important life, while the other one was squat and quite unremarkable.

Mort read the names. The first seemed to refer to a nobleman in the Agatean Empire regions. The second was a collection of pictograms that he recognised as originating in Turnwise Klatch.

'Over to you,' Albert sneered. The sooner you get started, the sooner you'll be finished. I'll bring Binky round to the front door.'

'Do my eyes look all right to you?' said Mort, anxiously.

'Nothing wrong with them that I can see,' said Albert. 'Bit red round the edges, bit bluer than usual, nothing special.'

Mort followed him back past the long shelves of glass, looking thoughtful. Ysabell watched him take the sword from the rack by the door and test its edge by swishing it through the air, just as Death did, and grinning mirthlessly at the satisfactory sound of the thunderclap.

She recognised the walk. He was stalking.

'Mort?' she whispered.

YES?

'Something's happening to you.'

I KNOW, said Mort. 'But I think I can control it.'

They heard the sound of hooves outside, and Albert pushed the door open and came in rubbing his hands.

'Right, lad, no time to —'

Mort swung the sword at arm's length. It scythed through the air with a noise like ripping silk and buried itself in the doorpost by Albert's ear.

ON YOUR KNEES, ALBERTO MALICH.

Albert's mouth dropped open. His eyes rolled sideways to the shimmering blade a few inches from his head, and then narrowed to tight little lines.