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By Root 249 0

been. Once, when the wandering teachers had come to the village, she had paid half a dozen eggs for a morning’s education on “***WONDERS OF THE UNIVERS!!***” That was expensive, for education, but it had been thoroughly worth it. The teacher had been a little bit crazy, even for a teacher, but what he’d said had seemed to make absolute sense. One of the most amazing things about the universe, he had said, was that, sooner or later, everything is made of everything else, although it’ll probably take millions and millions of years for this to happen. The other children had giggled or argued, but Tiffany knew that what had once been tiny living creatures was now the chalk of the hills. Everything went around, even stars.

That had been a very good morning, especially since she’d been refunded half an egg for pointing out that universe had been spelled wrong.

Was it true? Maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe it just had to be true enough for Arthur.

Her eyes, the inner eyes that opened twice, were beginning to close. She could feel the power draining away. You couldn’t stay in that state for long. You became so aware of the universe that you stopped being aware of you. How clever of humans to have learned how to close their minds. Was there anything so amazing in the universe as boredom?

She sat down, just for a moment, and picked up a handful of the sand. It rose above her hand, twisting like smoke, reflecting the starlight, then settled back as if it had all the time in the world.

She had never felt this tired.

She still heard the inner voices. The hiver had left memories behind, just a few. She could remember when there had been no stars and when there had been no such thing as “yesterday.” She knew what was beyond the sky and beneath the grass. But she couldn’t remember when she had last slept, properly slept, in a bed. Being unconscious didn’t count. She closed her eyes, and closed her eyes again—

Someone kicked her hard on the foot.

“Dinna gae to sleep!” Rob Anybody shouted. “Not here! Ye canna gae to sleep here! Rise an’ shine!”

Still feeling muzzy, Tiffany pushed herself back onto her feet, through gentle swirls of rising dust, and turned to the dark door.

It wasn’t there.

There were her footprints in the sand, but they went only a few feet and, anyway, were slowly disappearing. There was nothing around her but dead desert, forever.

She turned back to look toward the distant mountains, but her view was blocked by a tall figure, all in black, holding a scythe. It hadn’t been there before.

GOOD AFTERNOON, said Death.

CHAPTER 12

The Egress

Tiffany stared up into a black hood. There was a skull in it, but the eye sockets glowed blue.

At least bones had never frightened Tiffany. They were only chalk that had walked around.

“Are you—?” she began, but Rob Anybody gave a yell and leaped straight for the hood.

There was a thud. Death took a step backward and raised a skeletal hand to his cowl. He pulled Rob Anybody out by his hair and held him at arm’s length while the Nac Mac Feegle cursed and kicked.

IS THIS YOURS? Death asked Tiffany. The voice was heavy and all around her, like thunder.

“No. Er…he’s his.”

I WAS NOT EXPECTING A NAC MAC FEEGLE TODAY, said Death. OTHERWISE I WOULD HAVE WORN PROTECTIVE CLOTHING, HA HA.

“They do fight a lot,” Tiffany admitted. “You are Death, aren’t you? I know this might sound like a silly question.”

YOU ARE NOT AFRAID?

“Not yet. But, er…which way to the egress, please?”

There was a pause. Then Death said, in a puzzled voice: ISN’T THAT A FEMALE EAGLE?

“No,” said Tiffany. “Everyone thinks that. Actually, it’s the way out. The exit.”

Death pointed, with the hand that still held the incandescently angry Rob Anybody.

THAT WAY. YOU HAVE TO WALK THE DESERT.

“All the way to the mountains?”

YES. BUT ONLY THE DEAD CAN TAKE THAT WAY.

“Ye’ve got tae let me go sooner or later, ye big ’natomy!” yelled Rob Anybody. “And then ye’re gonna get sich a kickin’!”

“There was a door here!” said Tiffany.

AH, YES, said Death. BUT THERE ARE RULES. THAT WAS A WAY IN, YOU SEE.

“What