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- Нил Гейман
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EVERY
ENDING
IS
A
NEW
BEGINNING
.
YOUR
LUCKY
NUMBER
IS
NONE
.
YOUR
LUCKY
COLOR
IS
DEAD
.
Motto
:
LIKE
FATHER
,
LIKE
SON
.
Shadow
made
a
face
.
He
folded
the
fortune
up
and
put
it
in
his
inside
pocket
.
They
went
further
in
,
down
a
red
corridor
,
past
rooms
filled
with
empty
chairs
upon
which
rested
violins
and
violas
and
cellos
which
played
themselves
,
or
seemed
to
,
when
fed
a
coin
.
Keys
depressed
,
cymbals
crashed
,
pipes
blew
compressed
air
into
clarinets
and
oboes
.
Shadow
observed
,
with
a
wry
amusement
,
that
the
bows
of
the
stringed
instruments
,
played
by
mechanical
arms
,
never
actually
touched
the
strings
,
which
were
often
loose
or
missing
.
He
wondered
whether
all
the
sounds
he
heard
were
made
by
wind
and
percussion
,
or
whether
there
were
tapes
as
well
.
They
had
walked
for
what
felt
like
several
miles
when
they
came
to
a
room
called
the
Mikado
,
one
wall
of
which
was
a
nineteenth
-
century
pseudo
-
Oriental
nightmare
,
in
which
beetle
-
browed
mechanical
drummers
banged
cymbals
and
drums
while
staring
out
from
their
dragon
-
encrusted
lair
.
Currently
,
they
were
majestically
torturing
Saint
-
Saëns
’
s
"
Danse
Macabre
.
"
Czernobog
sat
on
a
bench
in
the
wall
facing
the
Mikado
machine
,
tapping
out
the
time
with
his
fingers
.
Pipes
fluted
,
bells
jangled
.
Wednesday
sat
next
to
him
.
Shadow
decided
to
remain
standing
.
Czernobog
extended
his
left
hand
,
shook
Wednesday
’
s
,
shook
Shadow
’
s
.
"
Well
met
,
"
he
said
.
Then
he
sat
back
,
apparently
enjoying
the
music
.
