Death hesitated, and then slowly lowered the blade. He turned and looked down into Ysabell's face. She was shaking with anger.
YOUR MEANING?
She glowered up at Death's face and then her hand swung back and swung around and swung forward and connected with a sound like a dice box.
It was nothing like as loud as the silence that followed it.
Keli shut her eyes. Cutwell turned away and put his arms over his head.
Death raised a hand to his skull, very slowly.
Ysabell's chest rose and fell in a manner that should have made Cutwell give up magic for life.
Finally, in a voice even more hollow than usual, Death said: WHY?
'You said that to tinker with the fate of one individual could destroy the whole world,' said Ysabell.
YES?
'You meddled with his. And mine.' She pointed a trembling finger at the splinters of glass on the floor. 'And those, too.'
WELL?
'What will the gods demand for that?'
FROM ME?
'Yes!'
Death looked surprised. THE GODS CAN DEMAND NOTHING OF ME. EVEN GODS ANSWER TO ME, EVENTUALLY.
'Doesn't seem very fair, does it? Don't the gods bother about justice and mercy?' snapped Ysabell. Without anyone quite noticing she had picked up the sword.
Death grinned. I APPLAUD YOUR EFFORTS, he said, BUT THEY AVAIL YOU NAUGHT. STAND ASIDE.
'No.'
YOU MUST BE AWARE THAT EVEN LOVE IS NO DEFENCE AGAINSTME. I AM SORRY.
Ysabell raised the sword. 'You 're sorry?'
STAND ASIDE, I SAY.
'No. You're just being vindictive. It's not fair!'
Death bowed his skull for a moment, then looked up with his eyes blazing.
YOU WILL DO AS YOU ABE TOLD.
'I will not.'
YOU'RE MAKING THIS VERY DIFFICULT.
'Good.'
Death's fingers drummed impatiently on the scytheblade, like a mouse tapdancing on a tin. He seemed to be thinking. He looked at Ysabell standing over Mort, and then turned and looked at the others crouching against a shelf.
No, he said eventually. No. I CANNOT BE BIDDEN.