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- Стр. 303/357
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Mort
screamed
another
curse
,
which
flopped
out
of
the
air
and
tried
to
bury
itself
in
the
sand
.
THE
PAIN
—
’
It
’
s
all
in
your
head
,
’
she
said
,
bracing
herself
against
the
force
that
wanted
to
drag
them
towards
that
flickering
doorway
.
’
You
’
re
not
Death
.
You
’
re
just
Mort
.
You
’
re
whatever
I
think
you
are
.
’
In
the
centre
of
the
blurred
blueness
of
his
eyes
were
two
tiny
brown
dots
,
rising
at
the
speed
of
sight
.
The
storm
around
them
rose
and
wailed
.
Mort
screamed
.
The
Rite
of
AshkEnte
,
quite
simply
,
summons
and
binds
Death
.
Students
of
the
occult
will
be
aware
that
it
can
be
performed
with
a
simple
incantation
,
three
small
bits
of
wood
and
4cc
of
mouse
blood
,
but
no
wizard
worth
his
pointy
hat
would
dream
of
doing
anything
so
unimpressive
;
they
knew
in
their
hearts
that
if
a
spell
didn
’
t
involve
big
yellow
candles
,
lots
of
rare
incense
,
circles
drawn
on
the
floor
with
eight
different
colours
of
chalk
and
a
few
cauldrons
around
the
place
then
it
simply
wasn
’
t
worth
contemplating
.
The
eight
wizards
at
their
stations
on
the
points
of
the
great
ceremonial
octogram
swayed
and
chanted
,
their
arms
held
out
sideways
so
they
were
just
touching
the
fingertips
of
the
mages
on
either
side
.
But
something
was
going
wrong
.
True
,
a
mist
had
formed
in
the
very
centre
of
the
living
octogram
,
but
it
was
writhing
and
turning
in
on
itself
,
refusing
to
focus
.
’
More
power
!
’
shouted
Albert
.
’
Give
it
more
power
!
’
