mort ducked a cut at head height and dived sideways , hearing a tinkle behind him as the tip of the scythe caught a glass on the nearest shelf ... ... ... in a dark alley in morpork a night soil entrepreneur clutched at his chest and pitched forward over his cart ... ... mort rolled and came up swinging the sword double-handed over his head , feeling a twang of dark exhilaration as death darted backwards across the checkered tiles .