Death - office

Leaving his breakfast to congeal, Mort hurried up the steps, along the corridor and paused in
front of the first door. He raised his hand to knock.

ENTER.

The handle turned of its own accord. The door swung inward.

Death was seated behind a desk, peering intently into a vast leather book almost bigger than the
desk itself. He looked up as Mort came in, keeping one calcareous finger marking his place, and
grinned. There wasn’t much of an alternative.

AH, he said, and then paused. Then he scratched his chin, with a noise like a fingernail being
pulled across a comb.

WHO ARE YOU, BOY?

“Mort, sir,” said Mort. “Your apprentice. You remember?”

Death stared at him for some time. Then the pinpoint blue eyes turned back to the book.
OH YES, he said, MORT. WELL, BOY, DO YOU SINCERELY WISH TO LEARN THE UTTERMOST SECRETS OF
TIME AND SPACE?

***

Mort p25