and well for someone who was dead. But the rest of the world was a mass of sliding shadows. Figures were bent over the slumped body, moving through Mort as if they were no more substantial than a mist.
The girl was kneeling down, weeping.
'That's my daughter,' said the king. 'I ought to feel sad. Why don't I?'
EMOTIONS GET LEFT BEHIND. IT'S ALL A MATTER OF GLANDS.
'Ah. That would be it, I suppose. She can't see us, can she?'
NO.
'I suppose there's no chance that I could —?'
NONE, said Death.
'Only she's going to be queen, and if I could only let her—'
SORRY.
The girl looked up and through Mort. He watched the duke walk up behind her and lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. A fault smile hovered around the man's lips. It was the sort of smile that lies on sandbanks waiting for incautious swimmers.
'I can't make you hear me, Mort said. Don't trust him!
She peered at Mort, screwing up her eyes. He reached out, and watched his hand pass straight through hers.
COME ALONG, BOY. NO LALLYGAGGING.
Mort felt Death's hand tighten on his shoulder, not in an unfriendly fashion. He turned away reluctantly, following Death and the king.
They walked out through the wall. He was halfway after them before he realized that walking through walls was impossible.
The suicidal logic of this nearly killed him. He felt the chill of the stone around his limbs before a voice in his ear said:
LOOK AT IT THIS WAY. THE WALL CANT BE THERE. OTHERWISE YOU WOULDN'T BE WALKING THROUGH IT. WOULD YOU, BOY?
'Mort,' said Mort.
WHAT?
'My name is Mort. Or Mortimer,' said Mort angrily, pushing forward. The chill fell behind him.
THERE. THAT WASN'T SO HARD, WAS IT?
Mort looked up and down the length of the corridor, and slapped the wall experimentally. He must have walked through it, but it felt solid enough now. Little specks of mica glittered at him.
'How do you do that stuff?' he said. 'How do I do it? Is it magic?'
MAGIC IS THE ONE THING IT ISN'T, BOY. WHEN YOU CAN DO IT BY YOURSELF, THERE WILL BE NOTHING MORE THAT I CAN TEACH YOU.
The king, who was considerably more diffuse now, said, 'It's impressive, I'll grant you. By the way, I seem to be fading.'
IT'S THE MORPHOGENETIC FIELD WEAKENING, said Death.
The king's voice was no louder than a whisper. 'Is that what it is?'
IT HAPPENS TO EVERYONE. TRY TO ENJOY IT.
Вы читаете Mort
