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'Mr who?' said Mort

'Mryour new master'

'Oh Him No No, I don't think so,' said Mort slowly 'I don't think he's theman owes his advancement to his nuptials,' said Lezek

'He does?'

'Mort, I don't think you're really listening'

'What?'

Lezek came to a halt on the frosty cobbles and spun the boy around to face hi to have to do better than this,' he said 'Don't you understand, boy? If you're going to aot to listen I's'

Mort looked down at his father's face He wanted to say a lot of things: he wanted to say how much he loved him, hoorried he was; he wanted to ask what his father really thought he'd just seen and heard He wanted to say that he felt as though he stepped on a molehill and found that it was really a volcano He wanted to ask what 'nuptials' meant

What he actually said was, 'Yes Thank you I'd better be going I'll try and write you a letter'

'There's bound to be so who can read it to us,' said Lezek 'Goodbye, Mort' He blew his nose

'Goodbye, dad I'll coh it sounded like the pistol-crack of an ancient beam full of death-watch beetle

WE HAD BETTER BE GOING, he said HOP UP, MORT

As Mort scrambled behind the ornate silver saddle Death leaned down and shook Lezek's hand

THANK YOU, he said

'He's a good lad at heart,' said Lezek 'A bit drea once'

Death considered this

No, he said, I DON'T THINK so

He gathered up the reins and turned the horse towards the Riure Mort waved desperately

Lezek waved back Then, as the horse and its two riders disappeared from view, he lowered his hand and looked at it The handshakeit had felt strange But, somehow, he couldn't remember exactly why

Mort listened to the clatter of stone under the horse's hooves Then there was the soft thud of packed earth as they reached the road, and then there was nothing at all

He looked down and saw the landscape spread out below hiht silver If he fell off, the only thing he'd hit was air

He redoubled his grip on the saddle

Then Death said, ARE YOU HUNGRY, BOY?

'Yes, sir' The words caht from his stomach without the intervention of his brain

Death nodded, and reined in the horse It stood on the air, the great circular panora below it Here and there a city was an range glow; in the warm seas nearer the Rim there was a hint of phosphorescence In soht of the Disc, which is slow and slightly heavy[1], was evaporating like silver stealow that rose towards the stars frolittered across the night Great golden walls surrounded the world

'It's beautiful,' said Mort softly 'What is it?'

THE SUN is UNDER THE Disc, said Death

'Is it like this every night?'

EVERY NIGHT, said Death NATURE'S LIKE THAT

'Doesn't anyone know?'

ME You THE GODS GOOD, IS IT?

'Gosh!'

Death leaned over the saddle and looked down at the kingdoms of the world

I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU, he Said, BUT I COULD MURDER A CURRY

Although it ell afterwith life Mort had thought Sheepridge looked busy, but compared to the turue

Poets have tried to describe Ankh-Morpork They have failed Perhaps it's the sheer zestful vitality of the place, or maybe it's just that a city with a million inhabitants and no sewers is rather robust for poets, who prefer daffodils and no wonder So let's just say that Ankh-Morpork is as full of life as an old cheese on a hot day, as loud as a curse in a cathedral, as bright as an oil slick, as colourful as a bruise and as full of activity, industry, bustle and sheer exuberant busyness as a dead dog on a termite mound

There were te the streets with the sounds of gongs, cymbals and, in the case of soions, the brief screae wares spilled out on to the pave ladies who couldn't afford lers, and assorted sellers of instant transcendence

And Death stalked through it all Mort had half expected hih the crowds like smoke, but it wasn't like that at all The simple truth was that wherever Death walked, people just drifted out of the way

It didn't work like that for Mort The crowds that gently parted for his new ot trodden on, his ribs were bruised, people kept trying to sell hietables, and a rather elderly lady said, against all the evidence, that he looked a well set-up young lad ould like a nice tune

He thanked her verya nice tune already

Death reached the street corner, the light frohts on the olished doered up, and without quite realising why e for no visible reason THIS IS THE CITY, BOY, said Death WHAT DO YOU THINK?

'It's very big,' said Mort, uncertainly 'I ether like this?'

Death shrugged

I LIKE IT, he said IT'S FULL OF LIFE