Sabriel regained sciousness sloo , but t only caug as sruggled to sit up. For t, sigill memory came. It tom of a sink, circular s bored into ture or artifice. From    as t y yards in diameter and a    e its murky dept starlig.

        Pain came ,    no serious injury.

        Sabriel , but everyto work.

        S fe—Mogget, or te force, slo before t—but tual instant of t never    remember it. S to ract    like she was diagnosing someone else.

        t came some time later, and    tion t s    again. it a little sc breeze to carry    of tal doldrums.    by toucrapped    be state, even a simple Cer-spell f of tion, but tcer.

        As tk. In t, s only tral cockpit portion of tion. Its orn and crumpled under, and tire nose se lay some yards aared up at tc it    yello and laminated paper.

        Sabriel stared at t and sorroot and field of vision.

        More small pieces of tre area. Groaning    of motivating bruised muscles, Sabriel levered    of t to    the ground.

        t area to be man-made; flagstones, carefully laid. Grass ones, and lic    ret    on tones and tom of a sinkhole.

        t t seemed to kickstart s and sarted to    a feance,    ? And ? t reminded o fetche bells.

        urbanned    ated around on    back-to-front. Sloiff neck.

        Balang    dle on t of t anot and took to ligroyed Paper t, sly touchem.

        “I am sorry,” so make a neo carry on your name.”

        “Se, Ab mao sound like Mogget and not at all like    time. It rierators she’d used in yverley College Sce classes.

        “ly turning.

        t t.

        Sransferred it to    hand.

        “e fire run out from u lit te as t, e smoke, totally obsg .

        c Sabriel could almost smell tangy, unnatural, nerve-jangling, tainting tural smoke. te fire-lines again, streaming out, verging, roiling, ing togete creature stepped out from the Paperwing.

        Sabriel couldn’t look at it directly, but from taller t starved. It orso and ing, whirling force.

        “Free, save for t said, advang. All traogget’s voice     now, submerged in zapping, crag menace.

        Sabriel    about t. Summoning all er marks to t of oing their names.

        “A! Calew! Ferhan!”

        t er t straigly    effect.

        It laugs languid motion seemed to declare it    he Paperwing.

        Sabriel dre to panic as s. ten, c. ions.

        Per t ure’s blazing preseo lig as if it could read ure suddenly started to lose its brilliance, sug darkness into its s out—a fearful silte, back-lit by the burning Paperwing.

        Desperately, Sabriel tried to remember ructs.

        iorix Greeno t. Sabriel kure before ilken.

        “Keep ture, advang again. “Sucy your    oo well.”

        “You saved it from not w forever,”

        Sabriel replied    er all, so per some, if only it could be broug.

        “Se,” till silently sliding for laugendril-like arm suddenly unleasself, snapping across tervening space to strike Sabriel across the face.

        “A memory, no added, as Sabriel staggered back from a sed attack, ss, ter-etc ural flesure, but    apart from jarring Sabriel’s arm.

        oo, a y floinging ried to ig, tried to use t o get o full operational speed.

        “Memories, yes, many memories,” tiure. It     soon, and t ten from her hand.

        “Millenia of servitude, Abrickery, treacive in a repulsive, fixedfles t, slo—not quiot quick at all!”

        A tendril las, loime, trying to trip    over it, blade extended, lunging for ture’s c. But it srudira arms as sried to jump back, catg her in mid-leap, drawing her close.

        S    tigs grip, till s its c, s boiling, stantly moving flesiny is buzzed beter darkness.

        Anot, f o look up, till ss ly above    basiatomy, its eyes s    apparent bottom. It    a mout split tly parted to reveal te glare t it    used as flesh.

        All Cer Magic rapped, t, s kno t Dead. Sally anyic, ligory of anyt might help.

        It ired, cussed mind remembered t was on    he index finger.

        But s knoo do —and ture’s oretcill it e- sparks t fell upon    and face, burning clotiny, tattoo-like scars. t loose on her finger.

        Sabriel instinctively curled    looser still, slipping do looking, Sabriel kneo do.

        “First, t as tant sunburn. It tilted its s moutill ing out.

        Sabriel took one last, careful look, screerrible glare, and flipped thing’s neck.

        For a sed, as t increased and s a terrible burning pain against    s like an angry fised minnow.

        On tones again, s one blurry, sore and sears—but still till w.

        S t    long, sinuous neck. t slid, impervious to ture’s desperate attempts to get it off. It ly from its s, trying to force fingers u tal seemed inimical to ture’s substance, like a    pan to , but could not take han a sed.

        t stai oo, draining dos ting support, leaving gloure fouging and turning, even bug, as if it could the ring    like a rider from a horse.

        Finally, it gave up and turo from it, reacoalons groone oling to to fall s by a yard or more.

        “No!” s ing, coiling body lurcstrets fell s, as Sabriel crawled, rolled and pushed herself away.

        tracted once more, and a terrible s of anguiser of te-flaming ts arms suddenly so its torso; to to an amorpe, ill-large silver band around ttering like a drop of blood.

        Sabriel stared at it, uo look aside, or do anyt ting blood. It seemed to    somet undone, somet so provide.

        Nervously craer marks t told    s do. earily, s up on he bellbandolier.

        Sara beyt so dra out, and to pierce the glowing, silverbound mass.

        to ts oal, ure Sarah.

        At time, tency. to run, and a red    a red leature silver bell.

        ite mass quivered, and s again, till Sabriel o soget, collared in red leatting up and looking like    to throw up a hairball.

        It    a    a silver ring, ting Mogget’s internal lig rolled to Sabriel, tinkling across tone. S up and slid it ba her finger.

        Mogget’s glo embers, sad memories and asurned, cloaking Sabriel, , not even thinking.

        A little later, s a soft ose against ’s mouth.

        “Your nose is still bleeding,” said a familiar, didactic voice. “Lig some blas out for us to sleep.

        It’s getting cold.”

        “ele back, Mogget,” whispered Sabriel.
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