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He
drew
his
sword
,
which
had
the
same
ice
blue
,
shadow
-
thin
blade
as
the
scythe
of
office
,
and
stepped
forward
.
’
I
thought
you
used
the
scythe
,
’
whispered
Mort
.
KINGS
GET
THE
SWORD
,
said
Death
.
IT
’
S
A
ROYAL
WHATSNAME
,
PREROGATIVE
.
His
free
hand
thrust
its
bony
digits
beneath
his
robe
again
and
brought
out
King
Olerve
’
s
glass
.
In
the
top
half
the
last
few
grains
of
sand
were
huddling
together
.
PAY
CAREFUL
ATTENTION
,
said
Death
,
YOU
MAY
BE
ASKED
QUESTIONS
AFTERWARDS
.
’
Wait
,
’
said
Mort
,
wretchedly
.
’
It
’
s
not
fair
.
Can
’
t
you
stop
it
?
’
FAIR
?
said
Death
.
WHO
SAID
ANYTHING
ABOUT
FAIR
?
’
Well
,
if
the
other
man
is
such
a
—
’
LISTEN
,
said
Death
,
FAIR
DOESN
’
T
COME
INTO
IT
.
YOU
CANT
TAKE
SIDES
.
GOOD
GRIEF
.
WHEN
IT
’
S
TIME
,
IT
’
S
TIME
.
THAT
’
S
ALL
THERE
IS
TO
IT
,
BOY
.
