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’
Father
said
the
shop
was
famous
for
its
budget
clothing
,
’
said
Mort
,
running
to
keep
up
.
IT
CERTAINLY
ADDS
A
NEW
TERROR
TO
POVERTY
.
They
turned
into
a
wider
street
leading
into
a
more
affluent
part
of
the
city
(
the
torches
were
closer
together
and
the
middens
further
apart
)
.
There
were
no
stalls
and
alley
corner
traders
here
,
but
proper
buildings
with
signs
hanging
outside
.
They
weren
’
t
mere
shops
,
they
were
emporia
;
they
had
purveyors
in
them
,
and
chairs
,
and
spittoons
.
Most
of
them
were
open
even
at
this
time
of
night
,
because
the
average
Ankhian
trader
can
’
t
sleep
for
thinking
of
the
money
he
’
s
not
making
.
’
Doesn
’
t
anyone
ever
go
to
bed
around
here
?
’
said
Mort
.
THIS
IS
A
CITY
,
said
Death
,
and
pushed
open
the
door
of
a
clothing
store
.
When
they
came
out
twenty
minutes
later
Mort
was
wearing
a
neatly
—
itting
black
robe
with
faint
silver
embroidery
,
and
the
shopkeeper
was
looking
at
a
handful
of
antique
copper
coins
and
wondering
precisely
how
he
came
to
have
them
.
’
How
do
you
get
all
those
coins
?
’
asked
Mort
.
IN
PAIRS
.
An
all
-
night
barber
sheared
Mort
’
s
hair
into
the
latest
fashion
among
the
city
’
s
young
bloods
while
Death
relaxed
in
the
next
chair
,
humming
to
himself
.
Much
to
his
surprise
,
he
felt
in
a
good
humour
.
In
fact
after
a
while
he
pushed
his
hood
back
and
glanced
up
at
the
barber
’
s
apprentice
,
who
tied
a
towel
around
his
neck
in
that
unseeing
,
hypnotised
way
that
Mort
was
coming
to
recognise
,
and
said
,
A
SPLASH
OF
TOILET
WATER
AND
A
POLISH
,
MY
GOOD
MAN
.
An
elderly
wizard
having
a
beard
-
trim
on
the
other
side
stiffened
when
he
heard
those
sombre
,
leaden
tones
and
swung
around
.
He
blanched
and
muttered
a
few
protective
incantations
after
Death
turned
,
very
slowly
for
maximum
effect
,
and
treated
him
to
a
grin
.
