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’
Right
!
Hold
my
staff
.
Now
,
you
bunch
of
miserable
back
-
sliders
,
this
is
going
to
stop
,
d
’
yer
hear
?
First
thing
tomorrow
,
up
at
dawn
,
three
times
round
the
quadrangle
and
back
here
for
physical
jerks
!
Balanced
meals
!
Study
!
Healthy
exercise
!
And
that
bloody
monkey
goes
to
a
circus
,
first
thing
!
’
’
Oook
?
’
Several
of
the
older
wizards
shut
their
eyes
.
’
But
first
,
’
said
Albert
,
lowering
his
voice
,
’
you
’
ll
oblige
me
by
setting
up
the
Rite
of
AshkEnte
.
’
’
I
have
some
unfinished
business
,
’
he
added
.
Mort
strode
through
the
cat
-
black
corridors
of
the
pyramid
,
with
Ysabell
hurrying
along
behind
him
.
The
faint
glow
from
his
sword
illuminated
unpleasant
things
;
Offler
the
Crocodile
God
was
a
cosmetics
advert
compared
to
some
of
the
things
the
people
of
Tsort
worshipped
.
In
alcoves
along
the
way
were
statues
of
creatures
apparently
built
of
all
the
bits
God
had
left
over
.
’
What
are
they
here
for
?
’
whispered
Ysabell
.
’
The
Tsortean
priests
say
they
come
alive
when
the
pyramid
is
sealed
and
prowl
the
corridors
to
protect
the
body
of
the
king
from
tomb
robbers
,
’
said
Mort
.
’
What
a
horrible
superstition
.
’
’
Who
said
anything
about
superstition
?
’
said
Mort
absently
.
