Mort

and back again.
    “Only I’ve been told to get on with this,” said Mort.
    She exploded.
    “Why are you here? Why did Father bring you here?”
    “He hired me at the hiring fair,” said Mort. “All the boys got hired. And me.”
    “And you wanted to be hired?” she snapped. “He’s Death, you know. The Grim Reaper. He’s very important. He’s not something you become , he’s something you are .”
    Mort gestured vaguely at the wheelbarrow.
    “I expect it’ll turn out for the best,” he said. “My father always says things generally do.”
    He picked up the shovel and turned away, and grinned at the horse’s backside as he heard Ysabell snort and walk away.
    Mort worked steadily through the sixteenths, eighths, quarters and thirds, wheeling the barrow out through the yard to the heap by the apple tree.
    Death’s garden was big, neat and well-tended. It was also very, very black. The grass was black. The flowers were black. Black apples gleamed among the black leaves of a black apple tree. Even the air looked inky.
    After a while Mort thought he could see—no, he couldn’t possibly imagine he could see…different colors of black.
    That’s to say, not simply very dark tones of red and green and whatever, but real shades of black. A whole spectrum of colors, all different and all—well, black. He tipped out the last load, put the barrow away, and went back to the house.
    E NTER .
    Death was standing behind a lectern, poring over a map. He looked at Mort as if he wasn’t entirely there.
    Y OU HAVEN’T HEARD OF THE B AY OF M ANTE, HAVE YOU ? he said.
    “No, sir,” said Mort.
    F AMOUS SHIPWRECK THERE .
    “Was there?”
    T HERE WILL BE , said Death, IF I CAN FIND THE DAMN PLACE .
    Mort walked around the lectern and peered at the map.
    “You’re going to sink the ship?” he said.
    Death looked horrified.
    C ERTAINLY NOT . T HERE WILL BE A COMBINATION OF BAD SEAMANSHIP, SHALLOW WATER AND A CONTRARY WIND .
    “That’s horrible,” said Mort. “Will there be many drowned?”
    T HAT’S UP TO FATE , said Death, turning to the bookcase behind him and pulling out a heavy gazetteer. T HERE’S NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT . W HAT IS THAT SMELL ?
    “Me,” said Mort, simply.
    A H . T HE STABLES . Death paused, his hand on the spine of the book. A ND WHY DO YOU THINK I DIRECTED YOU TO THE STABLES ? T HINK CAREFULLY, NOW .
    Mort hesitated. He had been thinking carefully, in between counting wheelbarrows. He’d wondered if it had been to coordinate his hand and eye, or teach him the habit of obedience, or bring home to him the importance, on the human scale, of small tasks, or make him realize that even great men must start at the bottom. None of these explanations seemed exactly right.
    “I think…” he began.
    Y ES ?
    “Well, I think it was because you were up to your knees in horseshit, to tell you the truth.”
    Death looked at him for a long time. Mort shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.
    A BSOLUTELY CORRECT , snapped Death. C LARITY OF THOUGHT . R EALISTIC APPROACH . V ERY IMPORTANT IN A JOB LIKE OURS .
    “Yes, sir. Sir?”
    H MM ? Death was struggling with the index.
    “People die all the time, sir, don’t they? Millions. You must be very busy. But—”
    Death gave Mort the look he was coming to be familiar with. It started off as blank surprise, flickered briefly towards annoyance, called in for a drink at recognition and settled finally on vague forbearance.
    B UT ?
    “I’d have thought you’d have been, well, out and about a bit more. You know. Stalking the streets. My granny’s almanack’s got a picture of you with a scythe and stuff.”
    I SEE . I AM AFRAID IT IS HARD TO EXPLAIN UNLESS YOU KNOW ABOUT POINT INCARNATION AND NODE FOCUSING . I DON’T EXPECT YOU DO ?
    “I don’t think so.”
    G ENERALLY I’ M ONLY EXPECTED TO MAKE AN ACTUAL APPEARANCE ON SPECIAL OCCASIONS .
    “Like a king, I suppose,” said Mort. “I mean, a king is reigning even when he’s doing something else or asleep, even. Is that it, sir?”
    I T’LL DO , said Death, rolling up the maps. A ND NOW, BOY, IF YOU’VE FINISHED THE STABLE YOU CAN GO AND SEE IF A LBERT HAS ANY JOBS HE WANTS DOING . I F YOU LIKE, YOU CAN COME OUT ON THE ROUND WITH ME THIS EVENING .
    Mort nodded. Death went back to his big leather book, took up a pen, stared at it for a moment, and then looked up at Mort with his skull on one side.
    H AVE YOU MET MY DAUGHTER ? he said.
    “Er. Yes, sir,” said Mort, his hand on the