Mort - punched

A figure appeared momentarily in the smoke, black-robed and holding a glittering sword. Albert swore as he caught a glimpse of the pale face under the cowl; it wasn’t pale enough.

“No!” Albert yelled, ducking into the octogram and flailing at the flickering shape with his hands. “Not you, not you….”

And, in faraway Tsort, Ysabell forgot she was a lady, bunched her fist, narrowed her eyes and caught Mort squarely on the jaw. The world around her exploded….

***

Mort p178