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It
wasn
’
t
exactly
a
voice
.
The
words
were
there
all
right
,
but
they
arrived
in
Mort
’
s
head
without
bothering
to
pass
through
his
ears
.
He
rushed
forward
to
help
the
fallen
figure
,
and
found
himself
grabbing
hold
of
a
hand
that
was
nothing
more
than
polished
bone
,
smooth
and
rather
yellowed
like
an
old
billiard
ball
.
The
figure
’
s
hood
fell
back
,
and
a
naked
skull
turned
its
empty
eyesockets
towards
him
.
Not
quite
empty
,
though
.
Deep
within
them
,
as
though
they
were
windows
looking
across
the
gulfs
of
space
,
were
two
tiny
blue
stars
.
It
occurred
to
Mort
that
he
ought
to
feel
horrified
,
so
he
was
slightly
shocked
to
find
that
he
wasn
’
t
.
It
was
a
skeleton
sitting
in
front
of
him
,
rubbing
its
knees
and
grumbling
,
but
it
was
a
live
one
,
curiously
impressive
but
not
,
for
some
strange
reason
,
very
f
rightening
.
THANK
YOU
,
BOY
,
said
the
skull
.
WHAT
IS
YOUR
NAME
?
’
Uh
,
’
said
Mort
,
’
Mortimer
.
.
.
sir
.
They
call
me
Mort
.
’
WHAT
A
COINCIDENCE
,
said
the
skull
.
HELP
ME
UP
,
PLEASE
.
The
figure
rose
unsteadily
,
brushing
itself
down
.
Now
Mort
could
see
there
was
a
heavy
belt
around
its
waist
,
from
which
was
slung
a
white
-
handled
sword
.
’
I
hope
you
are
not
hurt
,
sir
,
’
he
said
politely
.
The
skull
grinned
.
Of
course
,
Mort
thought
,
it
hasn
’
t
much
of
a
choice
.
