“I am not oo blame a messenger for idings,” said ea over to Sabriel, able c    y t news I have heard for many years.”

        “At least I am a living messenger . . . and a friendly one,” Sabriel said quietly. S really t beyond o expand o uand t        to different people. udy at yverley College, g about ierre tecer Magid neancy—ed vieing t only captured one dimension of the man.

        “il Abo Sabriel’s remembrance of eacup in udy disappeared, banisea slopping over in her enamel mug and burning her fingers.

        “O till w?”

        “terated, patiently. “ill the dead are free?”

        Sabriel t back to    grimoire s every    s of it still made her shudder.

        It looked innocuous enougarnis if you looked closely, botcer marks. Marks of binding and blinding, closing and impriso. Only a trained neancer could open t book . . .

        and only an uncorrupted Cer Mage could    close it.    it s, and alook it a the end.

        “It depends,” so sider tion objectively,    lettiion interfere. Sried to recall t ses, ters on musid ture of sound in truly dead, tes    u of t full moon. If rapped before te, tiil ter icularly strong spirit breaks the weakened bonds.”

        “So tell, in time,” said horyse.

        “e een days till it is full.”

        “It is possible I could bind the dead anew,”

        Sabriel said cautiously. “I mean, I    do on t of scale. But I kno beyoo , I must get to hings . . . chee references.”

        “ing look on his face.

        “I don’t know,” replied Sabriel.

        “?”

        “I don’t kno four. I t’s supposed to be a secret.

        Fat just among tty neancers, Free Magic sorcerers, ches—”

        “You don’t seem disturbed by your lack of dires,” interrupted t time, a    of doubt, even fat into    due te and neancer.

        “Fataugo o call a guide wions,” replied Sabriel coolly.

        “And I kno’s less travel away.”

        t silenced    least for t.

        anding cautiously, so     t, o a steel filing et t ing from t oozed betment.

        Opening t iced    out on table.

        “e’ve never been able to get our    —it just looked like a square of calfskin to me. A small magic,    sieac, per so small . . .

        A version of our patrol map, so it only goes out about ten miles from t. tanding orders strictly forbid us to go further.

        Patrols tend not to e back beyond t distance.

        Maybe t, or maybe . . .”

        one of voice suggested t even nastier to trols, but Sabriel didn’t question ion of t on table and, once agaiement stirred up hin her.

        “e generally go out along trag it    sandpapering of a master craftsman. “trols s or sout, till t the all.

        t back to te.”

        “ does ting to a blacked-in square atop one of ther hills.

        “t’s a Cer Stone,” replied the el.

        “Or part of one no ruck by ligrols arted to call it Clove, and t if possible. Its true name is Barone once carried ter for a village of time, anyill exists it must be furtrols. e’ve never s of inants from it ing souto Clove. t is, op.

        to sera s, travelers and so on—but enters     ty. trols o see even t is, not creatures or Free Magistructs, or too many of those.”

        “I don’t uand,” muttered Sabriel. “Fateo talk of villages and toies, in t of remember . . . I think.”

        “Furto tainly,”

        replied tion quite a feoies. e kno t say it h any fondness.”

        Sabriel didn’t ans lay a mig. It    miles afall if s fairly soon, and if it    snooo er Stone did not bode    to Deato tread. Cer Stones eed en natural dooro t a s t of o he map.

        S ill s ouc of .

        “I er almost ye,” ly. “Ba Corvere,    let o the Old Kingdom.”

        Sabriel met    tain, flickering beas of adolesce.

        “I am only eigside,”

        souc     ful motion. “But I first ered a Fifte Rester e. een I stalked and banis t came , but still . . . A year ago, I tur feel young anymore.”

        “I am sorry for t,” said t as if    I y t goes    I don’t    imes a path.”

        “‘Does ted, t er Magic, tion in t of her almanac.

        t    page, of the Dead.

        “I’ve    before,” remarked horyse.

        “ does it mean?”

        “I don’t know,” said Sabriel.

        “It ,” added taste of ter marks ill in t’s all t words.”

        “I ’t explain it.” Sabriel stempted a smile. “But I do kno are more to t at t, like: ‘traveler, embrace t, but do not take t.’ I must be on my way.”

        t it y smile. tle ao let , o a    course of a ternatives.

        “Your papers are in order,” ing er of Ab do ot you pass.

        But I ’t    I am ting you out to meet some terrible danger. I ’t even send a patrol out rols already out there.”

        “I expected to go alone,” replied Sabriel. Sed t, but felt a tinge ret. A protective group of soldiers e a fort. trange and dangerous land, even if it ement.

        It    take muco rise over it.

        And alure of rouble, trapped and alone in ters of Death . . .

        “Very well,” said !”

        A ed    anding on guard outside t, on teps up into tion trenchey’d heard.

        “Prepare a crossing party,” snapped horyse.

        “A single person to cross. Miss Abhorsen, here.

        And Sergeant, if you or Private Raalk in your sleep about    of your lives!”

        “Yes, sir!” came tunate Private Raed, did seem half-asleep.

        “After you, please,” tinued uring tohe door. “May I carry your skis again?”

        took no c came to crossing tood alone u arce t pierced t arcood or k in a reverse arroe, and a dozes and t ttle faite tools of destru.

        tual gate in ting    out of teetestimony to some explosion of modern agical force.

        It o Aierre, h.

        One caug it ligill it slid down ured by ongue.

        ter asted no different from any oted snoaste of teen years. Dimly, s    brougo Aierre.

        A ed    of t from te. ting t t self reflected from ting for her.

        itimbers of te.

        Going to sno into ure.

        tones of to call a ones like rain t.

        “t cer marks run on tones, not looking at Sabriel.

        Sabriel stepped out of te and pulled    the snow.

        “I wish your mission every success, Sabriel,”

        tinued    oo long.”

        ed, turned smartly to , and , slid s into the bindings.

        teadily, but it    th Road.

        Fortunately, tters to eitime if s to t seemed to be several er in t ierre, sed to reac before dusk.

        taking up    s scabbard, and ter-spell for    decided against it. t up, so te ted, greasy oo warm once s going.

        iticed motion, se arm reac as t sice, trating on building up tes, sically flying up t te of the ground.
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