mentio    s particularly    to remember a , in an apologetic e ’s alter ego, or    ru by the wind.

        As sed, dao a level approximating t.

        Sabriel could read ae clearly, but to indistinct gloom ty or ty yards away.

        Not t t—perer, not ty s    unrances into tunnels ake, as ter in ttle oweau near Abhorsen’s house.

        te igated by proximity to titude t could easily be sealevel or belo least a hundred yards deep.

        Still, een urgling by e tent to sloucly scorco ice of evilsmelling tanmaril leaves te sunburn.

        matter o treatment. It    broken—merely ed    too muco    off pletely.

        Mogget, after an ered off to explore, refusing Sabriel’s offer of    for breakfast. Sed , or sometizing, instead. In a    lay tle    ill disturbing.

        Even so, tle disc surrounded by ter circumference of tarted to unnel id plaining quietly as every bruise reminded s location.

        Of course, just as sing a dle at tunrance Mogget reappeared behind her.

        “Looking for me?” ly.

        “er, for instance.”

        “Useful?” mused Mogget, rubbing stretc legs.

        “Pereresting, certainly. ater? Yes.”

        “oo ay. “Aing mean? Dangerous?”

        “Not far, by tunnel,” replied Mogget.

        “ttle danger getting trap and a fes, but ing part, you will o see for yourself, Abhorsen.”

        “Sabriel,” said Sabriel automatically, as sried to t least t, but no more t. Every day lost before s mean disaster. So find him soon.

        A Mordit, S oo clear t some terrible enemy    boter.

        t enemy rapped    o be a very poer Dead creature. Perhis Kerrigor . . .

        “I’ll get my pack,” srudging back, Mogget slipping ba, almost tripping    al getting out of t to inexplicable ess, and didn’t ent.

        As Mogget unnel     long, and its eps and cross-c tle cat exactly across too avoid a cleverly cealed pit.

        it Mogget’s guidance, Sabriel knew she would have fallen in.

        too. Old, inimical spells lay like motunnel, ing to fly up at o surround and et rea and ttled again. A feimes, Sabriel experienced a gly touc to bruser mark on    at tunnel, sing into tips of ting in    before too, merged into stone.

        “ of t visible means of propulsion.

        “Anot said, matter-offactly.

        “It is w Blood . . . ach . . .”

        e is iing.”

        “ do you mean—” Sabriel began, but s as tugging at , t of ’s fur stood on end, and ated s oill ter marks of binding    and clearly readable, brig ther.

        t, standing at ttom of anoture twilighe sinkhole rim.

        t— per. Despite its size, tire vast pit , o t a quarter of t    a even so, Sabriel o use elescope to see te diamond-pattern    looked flimsy, but ted bird-corpses indicated siderable strengtunate birds o t, eyes greedily i on food below.

        In tself, tation—mostly sturees and malformed bus Sabriel tle attention to spare for trees, for iced a ship.

        Fourteen open-decked, single-masted longboats, t to catt    to battle an imaginary tide. tandards, all limp against mast and rigging, but Sabriel didn’t o see to kne cargo t bear. Ss of Aierre, close to tales of treasure, adventure and romance range harbor.

        “Funerary ships,” said Sabriel. “Royal ships.”

        Sion t to t    scuffed at tunrance, spells of final deat could only    rulers of the Old Kingdom.

        “t . . .

        ckkk . . . t, after some difficulty.

        , tood on ures, like a circus impresario in we fur.

        Finally,    off into trees.

        “e on—time h his words.

        Sabriel follo a slo so c bruised, tired and depressed, ser, and sad about the Paperwing.

        to t led ion of ts, leaps and bounds, but too o look in and s feel like so look at ties, t older. Boto Sabriel’s, ooned ions. Eac     turned ba itself in t—tation of ter.

        t. It seemed ser and less ornate,    devoid of black sails. No oars sprang from its sides, and as Sabriel reac lay us stern, s it e.

        Curious, stle pool of bubbling er and o the bow.

        t too, for t detail.

        Sabriel blustle, for it    likeness, as if a young man ransformed from fleso extbooks.    and tig , ly raised, as if to ward off some evil.

        tail eveeo a circumcised penis,     exactly    not displeasing.

        It rayed and only just realized it. too, and sometred. tle mad. roubled    seemed too o be t of a ter alented.

        “too life-like,” Sabriel muttered, stepping back from to t of , seeking some trap or deception.

        trap, but Sabriel did feel someto t of a Dead revenant, but not tion t s place.

        Sabriel tried to identify it, ual problem no, studying ing ly t doo tiny scars on    of sice. t sign of a baptismal Cer mark on race of veins on his eyelids.

        t iion led o certainty about ed, but sated about tion t saken, and    in searot t s a lot of fait quarter, given    propensity toion to    again, somet mig    form robably a wele relief.

        In fao advice at all could be . Sabriel found ail and paddy-paco a dream of dang mice. Sabriel looked at trac be back to tbalm, explaining bot’s previous mood and    somnolence. So make up her own mind.

        “So,” s. “You are tim of some Free Magic spell and neantic trickery.

        Your spirit lies    someo Deat I could find a lot of trouble as rouble I ’t deal    patic state. So her—Abhorsen . . . or any Abhorsen—do in my place?”

        S about it for a ten.

        t last question seemed to make y clear. Sabriel felt sure ’s ural neand Free Magic sorcery.

        S t, pero tbalm. S even sider t ed until ter—perill t day. After all, t ed for many years, ransformed into o    o immediately take on any duty t preseself . . .

        But for t time si problem for o solve. An injustice to be rig stle more tes on th.

        Some sligion remained    and picked up Mogget, plag t    of the figurehead.

        ened—not t the sinkhole.

        t    difficult to cross into Deat for someto follo place to uake a minor rescue.

        Once more, sing release.

        time, it     noticeable of ts very nature lulling listeners, beguiling to sleep or iion.

        Sed ts brus ing fingers, but s fident, ready for roll ies of    to Death.

        Cold    less current, but sood erface bet t, and used inuing sligact o    ters of Death.

        Everyt, save for tant gurgling of ter about , and t Gate. Notirred, no s. Cautiously, Sabriel used o feel out anyt migo feel t spark of trapped, but living, spirit of to    here.

        t it seemed furto Deated. Sried to see it, squinting into t made distance impossible to judge, but notever er.

        Sabriel ated, to, carefully feeling fall, guarding against t. tely somet t quite strongly—it o be trapped spirit. Stle voice at t suggested it ure, strong enougo s o the river . . .

        ever it    Ranna sound— a muffled, sleepy peal t carried tion of a yawn, a sigo sleep.

        If t . S o a good position, and reaco ter.

        oucotally uifiable.

        Sill    ures. Sometimes a spirit bore little relation to times living spirits became    too    long ierpart of t lived too, someected from Deathe living body reserved in wood.

        Sabriel gripped t-form u rose up out of ter like a killer atue.

        Sabriel staggered backrie eddies— but seadied    could drag her down.

        Ctle, Sabriel began t t-form back to was ed.

        t seemed far to fate, and tallized spirit—or    was—was muc should be.

        itratio on staying uprig dire, Sabriel almost didn’t notice tion of    marked t Gate. But so be    few days, and ion.

        Sening carefully, caug slosly as it could against t. Moving toch her unawares.

        Obviously, some alarm or summons    beyond t Gate, and alking to.

        Iny, Sabriel looked do    burden. Sure enoug make out a very tton to ter—and to t a trolling t o    some distant Adept kno unately, sounding Ranna would    was so Life . . .

        Stle, but not too muding s noticed ter.

        ever it    seemed quite relut to close in on her.

        Sabriel quied tle more, adrenaline and suspense feedi ruso drop t— and    forever.

        ever magic     possibly prevail if    past t Gate. If t , sated a murder rathan a rescue.

        Four steps to Life—t, loer, still creeping, but faster nate, for s identify    once    looked like a cross bet moved in a series of scuttles and sinuous wriggles.

        teps. Sabriel sed    arm pletely around t’s d balang t on    arm, but sill couldn’t draw he bells.

        to grunt and o a diving, russ long, yelloed tusks surfing ter, its long body undulating along behind.

        Sabriel stepped back, turned, and t into Life, using all o force tant, it seemed t through.

        S nothing else.

        Sabriel found y, ice crystals ced body. turning    t. ared at    back to sleep.

        Sabriel rolled over, and got to , very, very sloo perform deeds of derring-do and rescue. Still, s. t was back w belonged, ba Life.

        Or so s, till she figurehead.

        It    c all to out.

        Puzzled, soucrag the wood.

        “A kiss,” said Mogget sleepily. “Actually, just a breat you o start kissing someone sometime, I suppose.”

        Sabriel looked at t, est symptom of catbalm-induced lunacy.

        But he seemed sober enough, and serious.

        “A breat    to kiss    just any    be like    remember it, and make assumptions.

        “Like took a deep breatepped back to see w would hing.

        Nothing did.

        “Catbalm!” exclaimed Sabriel, looking at Mogget. “You s—”

        A small sound interrupted    didn’t e from .

        tlihe issue from an aged, underworked bellows.

        tronger, and , can to floo ter of fles became flexible, suddenly rising and falling as o pant like a rec sprinter.

        Sabriel’s. Fine grey eyes, but muzzy and unfocused.    seem to see    sook oep foro Sabriel’s arms.

        Sily to too a sances siderably different t s thier and more privileged day-girls.

        “t drunkenly, terribly slurred. o focus on —for t time, and added, “Abhorsen.”

        t to sleep, mout than he did as a fixed-expression figurehead.

        Sabriel looked d to ignore curiously fond feelings t o t .

        “I suppose I’d better get ,” santly, as s oo add tion to    circumstances.

        So get o safety and civilization, at t—if to be found.

        “I    get a bla if you    to keep staring at    said slyly, twining himself around her ankles in a sensuous pavane.

        Sabriel realized saring, and looked away.

        “No. I’ll get it. And my spare s, I suppose.

        t fit    of c. I’ll be ba a minute.”

        Mogget ed back to tly, t padded over and tougue to ter mark on t Mogget didn’t flincill it grew dull again.

        “So,” muttered Mogget, tasting ongue by curling it ba itself.    surprised, and more ttle angry. asted taste, ture Sarale peal t    of celebration.
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