Mort (Discworld 4) - Page 172

'You surely wouldn't dare, boy,' he said.

MORT. The syllable snapped out as fast as a whiplash and twice as vicious.

There was a pact,' said Albert, but there was the barest gnat-song of doubt in his voice. There was an agreement.'

'Not with me.'

There was an agreement! Where would we be if we could not honour an agreement?'

'I don't know where I would be,' said Mort softly.

BUT I KNOW WHERE YOU WOULD GO. That's not fair!' Now it was a whine. THERE'S NO JUSTICE. THERE'S JUST ME.

'Stop it,' said Ysabell. 'Mort, you're being silly. You can't kill anyone here. Anyway, you don't really want to kill Albert.'

'Not here. But I could send him back to the world.'

Albert went pale.

'You wouldn't!'

'No? I can take you back and leave you there. I shouldn't think you've got much time left, have you?' HAVE YOU?

'Don't talk like that,' said Albert, quite failing to meet his gaze. 'You sound like the master when you talk like that.'

'I could be a lot worse than the master,' said Mort evenly. 'Ysabell, go and get Albert's book, will you?'

'Mort, I really think you're —'

SHALL I ASK YOU AGAIN?

She fled from the room, white-faced.

Albert squinted at Mort along the length of the sword, and smiled a lop-sided, humourless smile.

'You won't be able to control it forever,' he said.

'I don't want to. I just want to control it for long enough.'

'You're receptive now, see? The longer the master is away, the more you'll become just like him. Only it'll be worse, because you'll remember all about being human and —'

'What about you, then?' snapped Mort. 'What can you remember about being human? If you went back, how much life have you got left?'

'Ninety-one days, three hours and five minutes,' said Albert promptly. 'I knew he was on my trail, see? But I'm safe here and he's not such a bad master. Sometimes I don't know what he'd do without me.'

'Yes, no-one dies in Death's own kingdom. And you're pleased with that?' said Mort.

'I'm more than two thousand years old, I am. I've lived longer than anyone in the world.'

Mort shook his head.

'You haven't, you know,' he said. 'You've just stretched things out more. No-one really lives here. The time in this place is just a sham. It's not real. Nothing changes. I'd rather die and see what happens next than spend eternity here.'

Albert pinched his nose reflectively. 'Yes, well, you might,' he conceded, 'but I was a wizard, you know. I was pretty good at it. They put up a statue to me, you know. But you don't live a long life as a wizard without making a few enemies, see, ones who'll . . . wait on the Other Side.'

He sniffed. They ain't all got two legs, either. Some of them ain't got legs at all. Or faces. Death don't frighten me. It's what comes after.'

'Help me, then.'

Tags: Terry Pratchett Discworld Fantasy
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