Mort

between a treasury and a very cluttered attic.
    “What’s this place?” she whispered. “I’ve never seen so much stuff!”
    T HE KING TAKES IT WITH HIM INTO THE NEXT WORLD , said Mort.
    “He certainly doesn’t believe in traveling light. Look, there’s a whole boat. And a gold bathtub!”
    D OUBTLESS HE WILL WISH TO KEEP CLEAN WHEN HE GETS THERE .
    “And all those statues!”
    T HOSE STATUES , I’ M SORRY TO SAY, WERE PEOPLE . S ERVANTS FOR THE KING, YOU UNDERSTAND .
    Ysabell’s face set grimly.
    T HE PRIESTS GIVE THEM POISON .
    There was another groan, from the other side of the cluttered room. Mort followed it to its source, stepping awkwardly over rolls of carpet, bunches of dates, crates of crockery and piles of gems. The king obviously hadn’t been able to decide what he was going to leave behind on his journey, so had decided to play safe and take everything.
    O NLY IT DOESN’T ALWAYS WORK QUICKLY , Mort added somberly.
    Ysabell clambered gamely after him, and peered over a canoe at a young girl sprawled across a pile of rugs. She was wearing gauze trousers, a waistcoat cut from not enough material, and enough bangles to moor a decent-sized ship. There was a green stain around her mouth.
    “Does it hurt?” said Ysabell quietly.
    No. T HEY THINK IT TAKES THEM TO PARADISE .
    “Does it”?
    M AYBE . W HO KNOWS ? Mort took the hourglass out of an inner pocket and inspected it by the gleam of the sword. He seemed to be counting to himself, and then with a sudden movement tossed the glass over his shoulder and brought the sword down with his other hand.
    The girl’s shade sat up and stretched, with a clink of ghostly jewelry. She caught sight of Mort, and bowed her head.
    “My lord!”
    N O ONE’S LORD , said Mort. N OW RUN ALONG TO WHEREVER YOU BELIEVE YOU’RE GOING .
    “I shall be a concubine at the heavenly court of King Zetesphut, who will dwell among the stars forever,” she said firmly.
    “You don’t have to be,” said Ysabell sharply. The girl turned to her, wide-eyed.
    “Oh, but I must. I’ve been training for it,” she said, as she faded from view. “I’ve only managed to be a handmaiden up till now.”
    She vanished. Ysabell stared with dark disapproval at the space she had occupied.
    “Well!” she said, and, “Did you see what she had on?”
    L ET’S GET OUT OF HERE .
    “But it can’t be true about King Whosis dwelling among the stars,” she grumbled as they found their way out of the crowded room. “There’s nothing but empty space up there.”
    I T’S HARD TO EXPLAIN , said Mort. H E’LL DWELL AMONG THE STARS IN HIS OWN MIND .
    “With slaves?”
    I F THAT’S WHAT THEY THINK THEY ARE .
    “That’s not very fair.”
    T HERE’S NO JUSTICE , said Mort. J UST US .
    They hurried back along the avenues of waiting ghouls and were nearly running when they burst out into the desert night air. Ysabell leaned against the rough stonework and panted for breath.
    Mort wasn’t out of breath.
    He wasn’t breathing.
    I WILL TAKE YOU WHEREVER YOU WANT , he Said, AND THEN I MUST LEAVE YOU .
    “But I thought you wanted to rescue the princess!”
    Mort shook his head.
    I HAVE NO CHOICE. THERE ARE NO CHOICES .
    She ran forward and grabbed his arm as he turned towards the waiting Binky. He removed her hand gently.
    I HAVE FINISHED MY APPRENTICESHIP .
    “It’s all in your own mind!” yelled Ysabell. “You’re whatever you think you are!”
    She stopped and looked down. The sand around Mort’s feet was beginning to whip up in little spurts and twirling dust devils.
    There was a crackle in the air, and a greasy feel. Mort looked uneasy.
    S OMEONE IS PERFORMING THE RITE OF A SH —
    It hit like a hammer, a force from out of the sky that blew the sand into a crater. There was a low buzzing and the smell of hot tin.
    Mort looked around himself in the gale of rushing sand, turning as if in a dream, alone in the calm center of the gale. Lightning flashed in the whirling cloud. Deep inside his own mind he struggled to break free, but something had him in its grip and he could no more resist than a compass needle can ignore the compulsion to point towards the Hub.
    At last he found what he was searching for. It was a doorway edged in octarine light, leading to a short tunnel. There were figures at the other end, beckoning to him.
    I COME , he said, and then turned as he heard the sudden noise behind him. Eleven stone of young womanhood hit him squarely in the chest, lifting him off