Mort

'You could let them go,' said Mort. They just got involved. It wasn't their fault. You could rearrange this so —'

WHY SHOULD I DO THAT? THEY BELONG TO ME NOW.

'I'll fight you for them,' said Mort.

VERY NOBLE. MORTALS FIGHT ME ALL THE TIME. YOU ARE DISMISSED.

Mort got to his feet. He remembered what being Death had been like. He caught hold of the feeling, let it surface. . . .

NO, he said.

AH. YOU CHALLENGE ME AS BETWEEN EQUALS, THEN?

Mort swallowed. But at least the way was clear now. When you step off a cliff, your life takes a very definite direction.

'If necessary,' he said. 'And if I win —'

IF YOU WIN, YOU WILL BE IN A POSITION TO DO WHATEVER YOU PLEASE, said Death. FOLLOW ME.

He stalked past Mort and out into the hall.

The other four looked at Mort.

'Are you sure you know what you're doing?' said Cutwell.

'No.'

'You can't beat the master,' said Albert. He sighed. 'Take it from me.'

'What will happen if you lose?' said Keli.

'I won't lose,' said Mort. 'That's the trouble.'

'Father wants him to win,' said Ysabell bitterly.

'You mean he'll let Mort win?' said Cutwell.

'Oh, no, he won't let him win. He just wants him to win.'

Mort nodded. As they followed Death's dark shape he reflected on an endless future, serving whatever mysterious purpose the Creator had in mind, living outside Time. He couldn't blame Death for wanting to quit the job. Death had said the bones were not compulsory, but perhaps that wouldn't matter. Would eternity feel like a long time, or were all lives — from a personal viewpoint — entirely the same length?

Hi, said a voice in his head. Remember me? I'm you. I got you into this.

'Thanks,' he said bitterly. The others glanced at him.

You could come through this, the voice said. You've got a big advantage. You've been him, and he's never been you.

Death swept through the hall and into the Long Room, the candles obediently flicking into flame as he entered.

ALBERT.

'Master?'

FETCH THE GLASSES.

'Master.'

Cutwell grabbed the old man's arm.