Reaper Man

never found their way there. They were the lucky ones.
    Traditionally, only two people ever went into the innermost sanctuary. They were the High Priest and the other priest who wasn’t High. They had been there for years, and took turns at being the high one. It was an undemanding job, given that most prospective worshippers were impaled, squashed, poisoned or sliced by booby-traps even before making it as far as the little box and the jolly drawing of a thermometer * outside the vestry.
    They were playing Cripple Mr. Onion on the high altar, beneath the very shadow of the jewel-encrusted statue of Offler Himself, when they heard the distant creak of the main door.
    The High Priest didn’t look up.
    “Heyup,” he said. “Another one for the big rolling ball, then.”
    There was a thump and a rumbling, grinding sound. And then a very final bang.
    “Now,” said the High Priest. “What was the stake?”
    “Two pebbles,” said the low priest.
    “Right.” The High Priest peered at his cards. “Okay, I’ll see your two peb—”
    There was the faint sound of footsteps.
    “Chap with a whip got as far as the big sharp spikes last week,” said the low priest.
    There was a sound like the flushing of a very old dry lavatory. The footsteps stopped.
    The High Priest smiled to himself.
    “Right,” he said. “See your two pebbles and raise you two pebbles.”
    The low priest threw down his cards.
    “Double Onion,” he said.
    The High Priest looked down suspiciously.
    The low priest consulted a scrap of paper.
    “That’s three hundred thousand, nine hundred and sixty-four pebbles you owe me,” he said.
    There was the sound of footsteps.
    The priests exchanged glances.
    “Haven’t had one for poisoned-dart alley for quite some time,” said the High Priest.
    “Five says he makes it,” said the low priest.
    “You’re on.”
    There was a faint clatter of metal points on stone.
    “It’s a shame to take your pebbles.”
    There were footsteps again.
    “All right, but there’s still the—” a creak, a splash “—crocodile tank.”
    There were footsteps.
    “No one’s ever got past the dreaded guardian of the portals—”
    The priests looked into one another’s horrified faces.
    “Hey,” said the one who was not High. “You don’t think it could be—”
    “Here? Oh, come on . We’re in the middle of a godsdamn jungle .” The High Priest tried to smile. “There’s no way it could be—”
    The footsteps got nearer.
    The priests clutched at one another in terror.
    “Mrs. Cake!”
    The doors exploded inward. A dark wind drove into the room, blowing out the candles and scattering the cards like polka-dot snow.
    The priests heard the chink of a very large diamond being lifted out of its socket.
    T HANK YOU .
    After a while, when nothing else seemed to be happening, the priest who wasn’t High managed to find a tinder box and, after several false starts, got a candle alight.
    The two priests looked up through the dancing shadows at the statue, where a hole now gaped that should have contained a very large diamond.
    After a while, the High Priest sighed and said, “Well, look at it like this: apart from us, who’s going to know?”
    “Yeah. Never thought of it like that. Hey, can I be High Priest tomorrow?”
    “It’s not your turn until Thursday.”
    “Oh, come on.”
    The High Priest shrugged, and removed his High Priesting hat.
    “It’s very depressing, this kind of thing” he said, glancing up at the ravaged statue. “Some people just don’t know how to behave in a house of religion.”

    Death sped across the world, landing once again in the farmyard. The sun was on the horizon when he knocked on the kitchen door.
    Miss Flitworth opened it, wiping her hands on her apron. She grimaced short-sightedly at the visitor, and then took a step back.
    “Bill Door? You gave me quite a start—”
    I HAVE BROUGHT YOU SOME FLOWERS .
    She stared at the dry, dead stems.
    A LSO SOME CHOCOLATE ASSORTMENT , THE SORT LADIES LIKE .
    She stared at the black box.
    A LSO HERE IS A DIAMOND TO BE FRIENDS WITH YOU .
    It caught the last rays of the setting sun.
    Miss Flitworth finally found her voice.
    “Bill Door, what are you thinking of?”
    I HAVE COME TO TAKE YOU AWAY FROM ALL THIS .
    “You have? Where to?”
    Death hadn’t thought this far.
    W HERE WOULD YOU LIKE ?
    “I ain’t proposing to go anywhere tonight except to the dance,” said Miss Flitworth firmly.
    Death hadn’t planned for