BEING DEAD IS NOT COMPULSORY.
'And . . . the bones . . .?'
NOT IF YOU DON'T WANT TO.
Mort breathed out again. It had been starting to prey on his mind.
'If father says it's all right,' he said.
They looked at Lezek, who was scratching his beard.
'How do you feel about this, Mort?' he said, with the brittle brightness of a fever victim. 'It's not everyone's idea of an occupation. It's not what I had in mind, I admit. But they do say that undertaking is an honoured profession. It's your choice.'
'Undertaking?' said Mort. Death nodded, and raised his finger to his lips in a conspiratorial gesture.
'It's interesting,' said Mort slowly. 'I think I'd like to try it.'
'Where did you say your business was?' said Lezek. 'Is it far?'
NO FURTHER THAN THE THICKNESS OF A SHADOW, aid Death. WHERE THE FIRST PRIMAL CELL WAS, THERE WAS I ALSO. WHERE MAN IS, THERE AM I.
WHEN THE LAST LIFE CRAWLS UNDER FREEZING STARS, THERE WILL I BE.
'Ah,' said Lezek, 'you get about a bit, then.' He looked puzzled, like a man struggling to remember something important, and then obviously gave up.
Death patted him on the shoulder in a friendly fashion and turned to Mort.
HAVE YOU ANY POSSESSIONS, BOY?
'Yes,' said Mort, and then remembered. 'Only I think I left them in the shop. Dad, we left the sack in the clothes shop!'
'It'll be shut,' said Lezek. 'Shops don't open on Hogswatch Day. You'll have to go back the day after tomorrow – well, tomorrow now.'
IT is OF LITTLE ACCOUNT, said Death. WE WILL LEAVE NOW. NO DOUBT I WILL HAVE BUSINESS HERE SOON ENOUGH.
'I hope you'll be able to drop in and see us soon,' said Lezek. He seemed to be struggling with his thoughts.
'I'm not sure that will be a good idea,' said Mort.
'Well, goodbye, lad,' said Lezek. 'You're to do what you're told, you understand? And – excuse me, sir, do you have a son?'
Death looked rather taken aback.
NO, he said, I HAVE NO SONS.
'I'll just have a last word with my boy, if you've no objection.'
THEN I WILL GO AND SEE TO THE HORSE, said Death, with more than normal tact.
Lezek put his arm around his son's shoulders, with some difficulty in view of their difference in height, and gently propelled him across the square.
'Mort, you know your uncle Hemesh told me about this prenticing business?' he whispered.
'Yes?'
'Well, he told me something else,' the old man confided. 'He said it's not unknown for an apprentice to inherit his master's business. What do you think of that, then?'
'Uh. I'm not sure,' said Mort.