'What had you in mind?'
'You're now a priest. Name your own god.'
Cutwell curtsied, and took the crown from Ysabell.
'You're all making fun of me!' snapped Keli.
'Sorry,' said Mort, wearily. 'It's been rather a long day.'
'I hope I can do this right,' said Cutwell solemnly. 'I've never crowned anyone before.'
'I've never been crowned before!'
'Good,' said Cutwell soothingly. 'We can learn together.' He started to mutter some impressive words in a strange tongue. It was in fact a simple spell for ridding the clothing of fleas, but he thought, what the hell. And then he thought, gosh, in this reality I'm the most powerful wizard there ever was, that'd be something to tell my grandch . . . He gritted his teeth. There'd be some rules changed in this reality, that was for sure.
Ysabell sat down beside Mort and slipped her hand in his.
'Well?' she said quietly. This is the time. Has anything suggested itself?'
'No.'
The interface was more than halfway down the hall, slowing slightly as it relentlessly ground down the pressure of the intruding reality.
Something wet and warm blew in Mort's ear. He reached up and touched Binky's muzzle.
'Dear old horse,' he said. 'And I'm right out of sugar lumps. You'll have to find your way home by yourself —'
His hand stopped in mid-pat.
'We can all go home,' he said.
'I don't think father would like that very much,' said Ysabell, but Mort ignored her.
'Cutwell!'
'Yes?'
'We're leaving. Are you coming? You'll still exist when the interface closes.'
'Part of me will,' said the wizard.
'That's what I meant,' said Mort, swinging himself up on to Binky's back.
'But speaking as the part that won't, I'd like to join you,' said Cutwell quickly.
'I intend to stay here to die in my own kingdom,' said Keli.
'What you intend doesn't signify,' said Mort. 'I've come all the way across the Disc to rescue you, d'you see, and you're going to be rescued.'
'But I'm the queen!' said Keli. Uncertainty welled up in her eyes, and she spun round to Cutwell, who lowered his candle-stick guiltily. 'I heard you say the words! I am queen, aren't I?'
'Oh, yes,' said Cutwell instantly; and then, because a wizard's word is supposed to be harder than cast iron, added virtuously, 'And totally free from infestation, too.'
'Cutwell!' snapped Mort. The wizard nodded, caught Keli around the waist and bodily hoisted her on to Binky's back. Hoisting his skirts around his waist he clambered up behind Mort and reached down and swung Ysabell up behind him. The horse jigged across the floor, complaining about the overloading, but Mort turned him towards the broken doorway and urged him forward.
The interface followed them as they clattered down the hall and into the courtyard, rising slowly. Its pearly fog was only yards away, tightening by inches.
'Excuse me,' said Cutwell to Ysabell, raising his hat. 'Igneous Cutwell, Wizard Ist Grade (UU), former Royal Recogniser and soon to be beheaded probably. Would you happen to know where we are going?'
To my father's country,' shouted Ysabell, above the wind of their passage.
'Have I ever met him?'
'I don't think so. You'd have remembered.'
The top of the palace wall scraped Binky's hooves as, muscles straining, he sought for more height. Cutwell leaned backward again, holding on to his hat.
'Who is this gentleman of which we speak?' he yelled.
'Death,' said Ysabell.
'Not —'
'Yes.'
'Oh.' Cutwell peered down at the distant rooftops, and gave her a lopsided smile. 'Would it save time if I just jumped off now?'
'He's quite nice if you get to know him,' said Ysabell defensively.
'Is he? Do you think we'll get the chance?'
'Hold on!' said Mort. 'We should be going across just about —'
A hole full of blackness rushed out of the sky and caught them.
The interface bobbed uncertainly, empty as a pauper's pocket, and carried on shrinking.
The front door opened. Ysabell poked her head out.
'There's no-one at home,' she said. 'You'd better come in.'
The other three filed into the hallway. Cutwell conscientiously wiped his feet.
'It's a bit small,' said Keli, critically.
'It's a lot bigger inside,' said Mort, and turned to Ysabell. 'Have you looked everywhere?'
'I can't even find Albert,' she said. 'I can't remember him ever not being here.'
She coughed, remembering her duties as hostess.
'Would anyone like a drink?' she said. Keli ignored her.
'I was expecting a castle at least,' she said. 'Big and black, with great dark towers. Not an umbrella stand.'
'It has got a scythe in it,' Cutwell pointed out.
'Let's all go into the study and sit down and I'm sure we'll all feel better,' said Ysabell hurriedly, and pushed open the black baize door.
Cutwell and Keli stepped through, bickering. Ysabell took Mort's arm.
'What are we going to do now?' she said. 'Father will be very angry if he finds them here.'
'I'll think of something,' said Mort. 'I'll rewrite the autobiographies or something.' He smiled weakly. 'Don't worry. I'll think of something.'
The door slammed behind him. Mort turned to look into Albert's grinning face.
The big leather armchair behind the desk revolved slowly. Death looked at Mort over steepled fingers. When he was quite certain he had their full, horrified attention, he said:
YOU HAD BETTER START NOW.
He stood up, appearing to grow larger as the room darkened.
DON'T BOTHER TO APOLOGISE, he added. Keli buried her head in Cutwell's ample chest.
I AM BACK. AND I AM ANGRY.
'Master, I —' Mort began.
SHUT UP, said Death. He beckoned Keli with a calcareous forefinger. She turned to look at him, her body not daring to disobey.
Death reached out and touched her chin. Mort's hand went to his sword.
IS THIS THE FACE THAT LAUNCHED A THOUSAND SHIPS, AND BURNED THE TOPLESS TOWERS OF PSEUDO—
POLIS? wondered Death. Keli stared hypnotised at the red pinpoints miles deep in those dark sockets.
'Er, excuse me,' said Cutwell, holding his hat respectfully, Mexican fashion.
WELL? said Death, distracted.
'It isn't, sir. You must be thinking about another face.'
WHAT is YOUR NAME?