Death - Staff

“Indeed, and if you would but let go—”

The change in Albert’s voice was complete. The trumpets of command had become the piccolos
of supplication. He sounded terrified, in fact, but he managed to catch Rincewind’s eye and hiss:

“My staff! Throw me my staff! While he is in the circle he is not invincible! Let me have my staff
and I can break free!”

Rincewind said: “Pardon?”

OH, MINE IS THE FAULT FOR GIVING IN TO THESE WEAKNESSES OF WHAT FOR WANT OF A BETTER WORD I
SHALL CALL THE FLESH!

“My staff, you idiot, my staff!” gibbered Albert.

“Sorry?”

WELL DONE, MY SERVANT, FOR CALLING ME TO MY SENSES, said Death. LET US LOSE NO TIME.

“My sta—!”

There was an implosion and an inrush of air. The candle flames stretched out like lines of fire
for a moment, and then went out.

***

Mort p179-180