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’
You
’
re
staying
here
,
sir
?
’
Death
looked
up
and
down
the
street
.
His
eye
-
sockets
flared
.
I
THOUGHT
I
MIGHT
STROLL
AROUND
A
BIT
,
he
said
mysteriously
.
I
DON
’
T
SEEM
TO
FEEL
QUITE
RIGHT
.
I
COULD
DO
WITH
THE
FRESH
AIR
.
He
seemed
to
remember
something
,
reached
into
the
mysterious
shadows
of
his
cloak
,
and
pulled
out
three
hourglasses
.
ALL
STRAIGHTFORWARD
,
he
said
.
ENJOY
YOURSELF
.
He
turned
and
strode
off
down
the
street
,
humming
.
’
Um
.
Thank
you
,
’
said
Mort
.
He
held
the
hourglasses
up
to
the
light
,
noting
the
one
that
was
on
its
very
last
few
grains
of
sand
.
’
Does
this
mean
I
’
m
in
charge
?
’
he
called
,
but
Death
had
turned
the
corner
.
Binky
greeted
him
with
a
faint
whinny
of
recognition
.
Mort
mounted
up
,
his
heart
pounding
with
apprehension
and
responsibility
.
His
fingers
worked
automatically
,
taking
the
scythe
out
of
its
sheath
and
adjusting
and
locking
the
blade
(
which
flashed
steely
blue
in
the
night
,
slicing
the
starlight
like
salami
)
.
He
mounted
carefully
,
wincing
at
the
stab
from
his
saddlesores
,
but
Binky
was
like
riding
a
pillow
.
As
an
afterthought
,
drunk
with
delegated
authority
,
he
pulled
Death
’
s
riding
cloak
out
of
its
saddlebag
and
fastened
it
by
its
silver
brooch
.
He
took
another
look
at
the
first
hourglass
,
and
nudged
Binky
with
his
knees
.
The
horse
sniffed
the
chilly
air
,
and
began
to
trot
.
Behind
them
Cutwell
burst
out
of
his
doorway
,
accelerating
down
the
frosty
street
with
his
robes
flying
out
behind
him
.
Now
the
horse
was
cantering
,
widening
the
distance
between
its
hooves
and
the
cobbles
.
With
a
swish
of
its
tail
it
cleared
the
housetops
and
floated
up
into
the
chilly
sky
.
Cutwell
ignored
it
.
He
had
more
pressing
things
on
his
mind
.
He
took
a
flying
leap
and
landed
full
length
in
the
freezing
waters
of
the
horsetrough
,
lying
back
gratefully
among
the
bobbing
ice
splinters
.
After
a
while
the
water
began
to
steam
.
Mort
kept
low
for
the
sheer
exhilaration
of
the
speed
.
The
sleeping
countryside
roared
soundlessly
underneath
.
Binky
moved
at
an
easy
gallop
,
his
great
muscles
sliding
under
his
skin
as
easily
as
alligators
off
a
sandbank
,
his
mane
whipping
in
Mort
’
s
face
.
The
night
swirled
away
from
the
speeding
edge
of
the
scythe
,
cut
into
two
curling
halves
.
