Franz Marc Horse in a Landscape

the clock. It was very big, and occupied a space between two curving wooden staircases covered with carvings of things that normal men only see after a heavy session on something illegal.
It had a very long pendulum, and the pendulum swung with a slow tick-tock that set his teeth on edge, because it was the kind of deliberate, annoying ticking that wanted to make it abundantly clear that every tick and every tock was stripping another of sound that suggested very pointedly that in someplace?'
'This is the house of Death,' she said.
'Ah,' said Rincewind. He ran a tongue over his dry lips. Well, nice to meet you, I think I ought to be getting along —'
She clapped her hands. 'Oh, you mustn't go!' she said. We don't often have living people here. hypothetical hourglass, somewhere, another few grains of sand had dropped out from under you.Needless to say, the weight on the pendulum was knife-edged and razor sharp.Something tapped him in the small of the back. He turned angrily.'Look, you son of a suitcase, I told you —'It wasn't the Luggage. It was a young woman – silver haired, silver eyed, rather taken aback.'Oh,' said Rincewind. 'Um. Hallo?''Are you alive?' she said. It was the kind of voice associated with beach umbrellas, suntan oil and long cool drinks.'Well, I hope so,' said Rincewind, wondering if his glands were having a good time wherever they were. 'Sometimes I'm not so sure. What is this