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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 'All I'll say is that when the Tsorteans put a curse on a place, they don't mess about.'
Mort turned a corner and Ysabell lost sight of him for a heart-stopping moment. She scurried through the darkness and cannoned into him. He was examining a dog-headed bird.
'Urgh,' she said. 'Doesn't it send shivers up your spine?'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.'They really come alive?'
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