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The
seagulls
swooped
and
dived
around
him
.
A
one
-
eyed
cat
,
down
to
its
eighth
life
and
its
last
ear
,
emerged
from
its
lair
in
a
heap
of
abandoned
fish
boxes
,
stretched
,
yawned
,
and
rubbed
itself
against
his
legs
.
The
breeze
,
cutting
through
Ankh
’
s
famous
smell
,
brought
a
hint
of
spices
and
fresh
bread
.
Death
was
bewildered
.
He
couldn
’
t
fight
it
.
He
was
actually
feeling
glad
to
be
alive
,
and
very
reluctant
to
be
Death
.
I
MUST
BE
SICKENING
FOR
SOMETHING
,
he
thought
.
Mort
eased
himself
up
the
ladder
alongside
Ysabell
.
It
was
shaky
,
but
seemed
to
be
safe
.
At
least
the
height
didn
’
t
bother
him
;
everything
below
was
just
blackness
.
Some
of
Albert
’
s
earlier
volumes
were
very
nearly
falling
apart
.
He
reached
out
for
one
at
random
,
feeling
the
ladder
tremble
underneath
them
as
he
did
so
,
brought
it
back
and
opened
it
somewhere
in
the
middle
.
’
Move
the
candle
this
way
,
’
he
said
.
’
Can
you
read
it
?
’
’
Sort
of
—
’
—
"
turnered
hys
hand
,
butt
was
sorelie
vexed
that
alle
menne
at
laste
comme
to
nort
,
viz
.
Deathe
,
and
vowed
hymme
to
seke
Imortalitie
yn
his
pride
.
’
Thus
,
’
he
tolde
the
younge
wizzerds
,
’
we
may
take
unto
ourselfes
the
mantel
of
Goddes
.
’
Thee
next
day
,
yt
being
raining
,
Alberto
"
—
’
It
’
s
written
in
Old
,
’
he
said
.
’
Before
they
invented
spelling
.
Let
’
s
have
a
look
at
the
latest
one
.
’
