Mort - Death's job

Mort turned a corner and Ysabell lost sight of him for a heart-stopping moment. She scurried through the darkness and cannoned into him. He was examining a dog-headed bird.

“Urgh,” she said. “Doesn’t it send shivers up your spine?”

“No,” said Mort flatly.

“Why not?”

BECAUSE I AM MORT. He turned, and she saw his eyes glow like blue pinpoints.

“Stop it!”

I—CAN’T.

She tried to laugh. It didn’t work. “You’re not Death,” she said. “You’re only doing his job.”

DEATH IS WHOEVER DOES DEATH’S JOB.

The shocked pause that followed this was broken by a groan from further along the dark passage. Mort turned on his heel and hurried towards it.

He’s right, thought Ysabell. Even the way he moves….

***

Mort p174