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CURRY
TIME
,
he
said
.
It
was
crowded
in
the
Curry
Gardens
on
the
corner
of
God
Street
and
Blood
Alley
,
but
only
with
the
cream
of
society
–
at
least
,
with
those
people
who
are
found
floating
on
the
top
and
who
,
therefore
,
it
’
s
wisest
to
call
the
cream
.
Fragrant
bushes
planted
among
the
tables
nearly
concealed
the
basic
smell
of
the
city
itself
,
which
has
been
likened
to
the
nasal
equivalent
of
a
foghorn
.
Mort
ate
ravenously
,
but
curbed
his
curiosity
and
didn
’
t
watch
to
see
how
Death
could
possibly
eat
anything
.
The
food
was
there
to
start
with
and
wasn
’
t
there
later
,
so
presumably
something
must
have
happened
in
between
.
Mort
got
the
feeling
that
Death
wasn
’
t
really
used
to
all
this
but
was
doing
it
to
put
him
at
his
ease
,
like
an
elderly
bachelor
uncle
who
has
been
landed
with
his
nephew
for
a
holiday
and
is
terrified
of
getting
it
wrong
.
The
other
diners
didn
’
t
take
much
notice
,
even
when
Death
leaned
back
and
lit
a
rather
fine
pipe
.
Someone
with
smoke
curling
out
of
their
eye
sockets
takes
some
ignoring
,
but
everyone
managed
it
.
’
Is
it
magic
?
’
said
Mort
.
WHAT
DO
YOU
THINK
?
said
Death
.
AM
I
REALLY
HERE
,
BOY
?
’
Yes
,
’
said
Mort
slowly
.
’
I
.
.
.
I
’
ve
watched
people
.
They
look
at
you
but
they
don
’
t
see
you
,
I
think
.
You
do
something
to
their
minds
.
’
Death
shook
his
head
.
THEY
DO
IT
ALL
THEMSELVES
,
he
said
.
THERE
’
S
NO
MAGIC
.
PEOPLE
CANT
SEE
ME
,
THEY
SIMPLY
WONT
ALLOW
THEMSELVES
TO
DO
IT
.
UNTIL
IT
’
S
TIME
,
OF
COURSE
.
WIZARDS
CAN
SEE
ME
,
AND
CATS
.
BUT
YOUR
AVERAGE
HUMAN
.
.
.
NO
,
NEVER
.
He
blew
a
smoke
ring
at
the
sky
,
and
added
,
STRANGE
BUT
TRUE
.
