Цитаты из книги Mortimer

The shop bell jangled. Keeble's eyes rolled. Death decided that he owed the man something. He shouldn't be allowed to lose custom, which was clearly something humans valued dearly. He pushed aside the bead curtain and stalked into the outer shop, where a small fat woman, looking rather like an angry cottage loaf, was hammering on the counter with a haddock. 'It's about that cook's job up at the University,' she said. 'You told me it was a good position and it's a disgrace up there, the tricks them students play, and I demand – I want you to – I'm not. Her voice trailed off. ' 'Ere,' she said, but you could tell her heart wasn't in it, 'you're not Keeble, are you?' Death stared at her. He'd never before experienced an unsatisfied customer. He was at a loss. Finally he gave up. BEGONE, YOU BLACK AND MIDNIGHT HAG, he said. The cook's small eyes narrowed. ' 'Oo are you calling a midnight bag?' she said accusingly, and hit the counter with the fish again. 'Look at this,' she said. 'Last night it was my bedwarmer, in the morning it's a fish. I ask you.' MAY ALL THE DEMONS OF HELL REND YOUR LIVING SPIRIT IF YOU DON'T GET OUT OF THE SHOP THIS MINUTE, Death tried. 'I don't know about that, but what about my bedwarmer? It's no place for a respectable woman up there, they tried to —' IF YOU WOULD CARE TO GO AWAY, said Death desperately, I WILL GIVE YOU SOME MONEY. 'How much?' said the cook, with a speed that would have outdistanced a striking rattlesnake and given lightning a nasty shock. Death pulled out his coin bag and tipped a heap of verdigrised and darkened coins on the counter. She regarded them with deep suspicion. NOW LEAVE UPON THE INSTANT, said Death, and added, BEFORE THE SEARING WINDS OF INFINITY SCORCH THY WORTHLESS CARCASS. 'My husband will be told about this,' said the cook darkly, as she left the shop. It seemed to Death that no threat of his could possibly be as dire.

Would you like a hot meat pie? said his father. No. Hes selling them cheap. No. Thank you. Oh. Lezek hesitated. I could ask the man if he wants an apprentice, he said, helpfully. Very reliable, the catering trade. I dont think he does, said Mort. No, probably not, said Lezek. Bit of a one-man business, I expect. Hes gone now, anyway. Tell you what, Ill save you a bit of mine. I dont actually feel very hungry, dad. Theres hardly any gristle. No. But thanks all the same. Oh. Lezek deflated a little. He danced about a bit to stamp some life back into his feet, and whistled a few tuneless bars between his teeth. He felt he ought to say something, to offer some kind of advice, to point out that life had its ups and downs, to put his arm around his sons shoulder and talk expansively about the problems of growing up, to indicate – in short – that the world is a funny old lace where one should never, metaphorically speaking, be so proud as to turn down the offer of a perfectly good hot meat pie.

Ysabell came back, a little out of breath, clutching the latest volume of Albert's life. Albert sniffed again. The tiny drip on the end of his nose fascinated Mort. It was always on the point of dropping off but never had the courage. Just like him, he thought. 'You can't do anything to me with the book,' said the old wizard warily. 'I don't intend to. But it strikes me that you don't get to be a powerful wizard by telling the truth all the time. Ysabell, read out what's being written.' ' “Albert looked at him uncertainly”,' Ysabell read. 'You can't believe everything writ down there —' '— “he burst out, knowing in the flinty pit of his heart that Mort certainly could”,' Ysabell read. 'Stop it!' ' “he shouted, trying to put at the back of his mind the knowledge that even if Reality could not be stopped it might be possible to slow it down a little”.' HOW? ' “intoned Mort in the leaden tones of Death”,' began Ysabell dutifully. 'Yes, yes, all right, you needn't bother with my bit,' snapped Mort irritably. 'Pardon me for living, I'm sure.' NO-ONE GETS PARDONED FOR LIVING. 'And don't talk like that to me, thank you. It doesn't frighten me,' she said. She ganced down at the book, where the moving line of writing was calling her a liar. Tell me how, wizard,' said Mort. 'My magic's all I've got left!' wailed Albert. 'You don't need it, you old miser.' 'You don't frighten me, boy —' LOOK INTO MY FACE AND TELL ME THAT. Mort snapped his fingers imperiously. Ysabell bent her head over the book again. ' “Albert looked into the blue glow of those eyes and the last of his defiance drained away”,' she read, ' “for he saw not just Death but Death with all the human seasonings of vengeance and cruelty and distaste, and with a terrible certainty he knew that this was the last chance and Mort would send him back into Time and hunt him down and take him and deliver him bodily into the dark Dungeon Dimensions where creatures of horror would dot dot dot dot dot”,' she finished. 'It's just dots for half a page.' That's because the book daren't even mention them,' whispered Albert. He tried to shut his eyes but the pictures in the darkness behind his eyelids were so vivid that he opened them again. Even Mort was better than that.