Terry Pratchett - Mort

To Rhianna

There was no doubt that there was something magical in the soil of that hilly, broken area whichbecause of the strange tint that it gave to the local florawas known as the octarine grass country. For example, it was one of the few places on the Disc where plants produced reannual varieties.

Reannuals are plants that grow backwards in time. You sow the seed this year and they grow last year.

Morts family specialized in distilling the wine from reannual grapes. These were very powerful and much sought after by fortune-tellers, since of course they enabled them to see the future. The only snag was that you got the hangover the morning before , and had to drink a lot to get over it.

Reannual growers tended to be big, serious men, much given to introspection and close examination of the calendar. A farmer who neglects to sow ordinary seeds only loses the crop, whereas anyone who forgets to sow seeds of a crop that has already been harvested twelve months before risks disturbing the entire fabric of causality, not to mention acute embarrassment.

It was also acutely embarrassing to Morts family that the youngest son was not at all serious and had about the same talent for horticulture that you would find in a dead starfish. It wasnt that he was unhelpful, but he had the kind of vague, cheerful helpfulness that serious men soon learn to dread. There was something infectious, possibly even fatal, about it. He was tall, red-haired and freckled, with the sort of body that seems to be only marginally under its owners control; it appeared to have been built out of knees.

On this particular day it was hurtling across the high fields, waving its hands and yelling.

Morts father and uncle watched it disconsolately from the stone wall.

What I dont understand, said father Lezek, is that the birds dont even fly away. Id fly away, if I saw it coming towards me.

Ah. The human bodys a wonderful thing. I mean, his legs go all over the place but theres a fair turn of speed there.

Mort reached the end of a furrow. An overfull woodpigeon lurched slowly out of his way.

His hearts in the right place, mind, said Lezek, carefully.

Ah. Course, tis the rest of him that isnt.

Hes clean about the house. Doesnt eat much, said Lezek.

No, I can see that.

Lezek looked sideways at his brother, who was staring fixedly at the sky.

I did hear youd got a place going up at your farm, Hamesh, he said.

Ah. Got an apprentice in, didnt I?

Ah, said Lezek gloomily, when was that, then?

Yesterday, said his brother, lying with rattlesnake speed. All signed and sealed. Sorry. Look, I got nothing against young Mort, see, hes as nice a boy as you could wish to meet, its just that

I know, I know, said Lezek. He couldnt find his arse with both hands.

They stared at the distant figure. It had fallen over. Some pigeons had waddled over to inspect it.

Hes not stupid, mind, said Hamesh. Not what youd call stupid.

Theres a brain there all right, Lezek conceded. Sometimes he starts thinking so hard you has to hit him round the head to get his attention. His granny taught him to read, see. I reckon it overheated his mind.

Mort had got up and tripped over his robe.

You ought to set him to a trade, said Hamesh, reflectively. The priesthood, maybe. Or wizardry. They do a lot of reading, wizards.

They looked at each other. Into both their minds stole an inkling of what Mort might be capable of if he got his well-meaning hands on a book of magic.

All right, said Hamesh hurriedly. Something else, then. There must be lots of things he could turn his hand to.

He starts thinking too much, thats the trouble, said Lezek. Look at him now. You dont think about how to scare birds, you just does it. A normal boy, I mean.

Hamesh scratched his chin thoughtfully.

It could be someone elses problem, he said.

Lezeks expression did not alter, but there was a subtle change around his eyes.

How do you mean? he said.

Theres the hiring fair at Sheepridge next week. You set him as a prentice, see, and his new masterll have the job of knocking him into shape. Tis the law. Get him indentured, and tis binding.

Lezek looked across the field at his son, who was examining a rock.

I wouldnt want anything to happen to him, mind, he said doubtfully. Were quite fond of him, his mother and me. You get used to people.

Itd be for his own good, youll see. Make a man of him.

Ah. Well. Theres certainly plenty of raw material, sighed Lezek.

Mort was getting interested in the rock. It had curly shells in it, relics of the early days of the world when the Creator had made creatures out of stone, no one knew why.

Mort was interested in lots of things. Why peoples teeth fitted together so neatly, for example. Hed given that one a lot of thought. Then there was the puzzle of why the sun came out during the day, instead of at night when the light would come in useful. He knew the standard explanation, which somehow didnt seem satisfying.

In short, Mort was one of those people who are more dangerous than a bag full of rattlesnakes. He was determined to discover the underlying logic behind the universe.