Lezek came to a halt on the frosty cobbles and spun the boy around to face him.
'You're really going to have to do better than this,' he said. 'Don't you understand, boy? If you're going to amount to anything in this world then you've got to listen. I'm your father telling you these things.'
Mort looked down at his father's face. He wanted to say a lot of things: he wanted to say how much he loved him, how worried he was; he wanted to ask what his father really thought he'd just seen and heard. He wanted to say that he felt as though he stepped on a molehill and found that it was really a volcano. He wanted to ask what 'nuptials' meant.
What he actually said was, 'Yes. Thank you. I'd better be going. I'll try and write you a letter.'
'There's bound to be someone passing who can read it to us,' said Lezek. 'Goodbye, Mort.' He blew his nose.
'Goodbye, dad. I'll come back to visit,' said Mort. Death coughed tactfully, although it sounded like the pistol-crack of an ancient beam full of death-watch beetle.
WE HAD BETTER BE GOING, he said. HOP UP, MORT.
As Mort scrambled behind the ornate silver saddle Death leaned down and shook Lezek's hand.
THANK YOU, he said.
'He's a good lad at heart,' said Lezek. 'A bit dreamy, that's all. I suppose we were all young once.'
Death considered this.
No, he said, I DON'T THINK so.
He gathered up the reins and turned the horse towards the Rim road. From his perch behind the black-robed figure Mort waved desperately.
Lezek waved back. Then, as the horse and its two riders disappeared from view, he lowered his hand and looked at it. The handshake . . . it had felt strange. But, somehow, he couldn't remember exactly why.
Mort listened to the clatter of stone under the horse's hooves. Then there was the soft thud of packed earth as they reached the road, and then there was nothing at all.
He looked down and saw the landscape spread out below him, the night etched with moonlight silver. If he fell off, the only thing he'd hit was air.
He redoubled his grip on the saddle.
Then Death said, ARE YOU HUNGRY, BOY?
'Yes, sir.' The words came straight from his stomach without the intervention of his brain.
Death nodded, and reined in the horse. It stood on the air, the great circular panorama of the Disc glittering below it. Here and there a city was an range glow; in the warm seas nearer the Rim there was a hint of phosphorescence. In some of thedeep valleys the trapped daylight of the Disc, which is slow and slightly heavy[1], was evaporating like silver steam.
But it was outshone by the glow that rose towards the stars from the Rim itself. Vast streamers of light shimmered and glittered across the night. Great golden walls surrounded the world.
'It's beautiful,' said Mort softly. 'What is it?'
THE SUN is UNDER THE Disc, said Death.
'Is it like this every night?'
EVERY NIGHT, said Death. NATURE'S LIKE THAT.
'Doesn't anyone know?'
ME. You. THE GODS. GOOD, IS IT?
'Gosh!'
Death leaned over the saddle and looked down at the kingdoms of the world.
I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU, he Said, BUT I COULD MURDER A CURRY.