Mort

surface, teeter on the edge and then drop, tumbling in slow motion, towards the bottom. Candlelight flickered off its tiny silica facets as it spun gently downward. It landed soundlessly, throwing up a tiny crater.
    The light in Death’s eyes flared until it filled Mort’s vision and the sound of his laughter rattled the universe.
    And then Death turned the hourglass over.

Once again the great hall of Sto Lat was brilliant with candlelight and loud with music.
    As the guests flocked down the steps and descended on the cold buffet the Master of Ceremonies was in non-stop voice, introducing those who, by reason of importance or simple absent-mindedness, had turned up late. As for example:
    “The Royal Recognizer, Master of the Queen’s Bedchamber, His Ipississumussness Igneous Cutwell, Wizard 1st Grade (UU).”
    Cutwell advanced on the royal couple, grinning, a large cigar in one hand.
    “May I kiss the bride?” he said.
    “If it’s allowed for wizards,” said Ysabell, offering a cheek.
    “We thought the fireworks were marvelous,” said Mort. “And I expect they’ll soon be able to rebuild the outer wall. No doubt you’ll be able to find your way to the food.”
    “He’s looking a lot better these days,” said Ysabell behind her fixed grin, as Cutwell disappeared into the throng.
    “Certainly there’s a lot to be said for being the only person who doesn’t bother to obey the queen,” said Mort, exchanging nods with a passing nobleman.
    “They say he’s the real power behind the throne,” said Ysabell. “An eminence something.”
    “Eminence grease,” said Mort absently. “Notice how he doesn’t do any magic these days?”
    “Shutuphereshecomes.”
    “Her Supreme Majesty, Queen Kelirehenna I, Lord of Sto Lat, Protector of the Eight Protectorates and Empress of the Long Thin Debated Piece Hubwards of Sto Kerrig.”
    Ysabell bobbed. Mort bowed. Keli beamed at both of them. They couldn’t help noticing that she had come under some influence that inclined her towards clothes that at least roughly followed her shape, and away from hairstyles that looked like the offspring of a pineapple and a candyfloss.
    She pecked Ysabell on the cheek and then stepped back and looked Mort up and down.
    “How’s Sto Helit?” she said.
    “Fine, fine,” said Mort. “We’ll have to do something about the cellars, though. Your late uncle had some unusual—hobbies, and…”
    “She means you,” whispered Ysabell. “That’s your official name.”
    “I preferred Mort,” said Mort.
    “Such an interesting coat of arms, too,” said the queen. “Crossed scythes on an hourglass rampant against a sable field. It gave the Royal College quite a headache.”
    “It’s not that I mind being a duke,” said Mort. “It’s being married to a duchess that comes as a shock.”
    “You’ll get used to it.”
    “I hope not.”
    “Good. And now, Ysabell,” said Keli, setting her jaw, “if you are to move in royal circles there are some people you simply must meet….”
    Ysabell gave Mort a despairing look as she was swept away into the crowd, and was soon lost to view.
    Mort ran a finger around the inside of his collar, looked both ways, and then darted into a fern-shaded corner near the end of the buffet where he could have a quiet moment to himself.
    Behind him the Master of Ceremonies cleared his throat. His eyes took on a distant, glazed look.
    “The Stealer of Souls,” he said in the faraway voice of one whose ears aren’t hearing what his mouth is saying, “Defeater of Empires, Swallower of Oceans, Thief of Years, The Ultimate Reality, Harvester of Mankind, the—”
    A LL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT . I CAN SEE MYSELF IN .
    Mort paused with a cold turkey leg halfway to his mouth. He didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to. There was no mistaking that voice, felt rather than heard, or the way in which the air chilled and darkened. The chatter and music of the wedding reception slowed and faded.
    “We didn’t think you’d come,” he said to a potted fern.
    T O MY OWN DAUGHTER’S WEDDING ? A NYWAY, IT WAS THE FIRST TIME I’ VE EVER HAD AN INVITATION TO ANYTHING . I T HAD GOLD EDGES AND RSVP AND EVERYTHING .
    “Yes, but when you weren’t at the service—”
    I THOUGHT PERHAPS IT WOULD NOT BE ENTIRELY APPROPRIATE .
    “Well, yes, I suppose so—”
    T O BE FRANK , I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO MARRY THE PRINCESS .
    Mort blushed. “We talked about it,” he said. “Then we thought, just because you