Neit mentioned t  s particularly  to remember a , in an apologetic e ’s alter ego, or  ruction by the wind.

    As sed, dao a level approximating t.

    Sabriel could read and see te clearly, but to indistinct gloom ty or ty yards away.

    Not t t—perer, not ty s  unnel entrances into tunnels ake, as ter in ttle c  noweau near Abhorsen’s house.

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

    Still, een of er gurgling by e content to sloucly scorco ice of evilsmelling tanmaril leaves to range sunburn.

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

    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 ick and complaining quietly as every bruise reminded s location.

    Of course, just as sing a candle at tunnel entrance Mogget reappeared behind her.

    “Looking for me?” ly.

    “er, for instance.”

    “Useful?” mused Mogget, rubbing stretc legs.

    “Pereresting, certainly. ater? Yes.”

    “oo ay. “And eresting mean? Dangerous?”

    “Not far, by tunnel,” replied Mogget.

    “ttle danger getting trap and a fes, but not eresting 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 Mordicant, 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 backen, almost tripping  al getting out of t to inexplicable catness, and didn’t comment.

    As Mogget unnel   long, and its eps and cross-c tle cat exactly across tones, to avoid a cleverly concealed 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 c somet reaction 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 . . .”

    ence rat is interesting.”

    “ 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 considerable strengtunate birds o t, eyes greedily intent on food below.

    In tself, tation—mostly stunted trees and malformed bus Sabriel tle attention to spare for trees, for in betced a ship.

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

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

    Sion t to t  scuffed at tunnel entrance, 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.

    “Come 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 back on 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 under its 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 even extended to 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 inspection led o certainty about ed, but sated about tion t saken, and  in searc. Not t s a lot of fait quarter, given  propensity toion to  again, somet mig  form was probably a welcome relief.

    In fact, no advice at all could be . Sabriel found ail and paddy-paco a dream of dancing 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 necromantic trickery.

    Your spirit lies neit someo Deat I could find a lot of trouble as rouble I can’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 necromancy and Free Magic sorcery.

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

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

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

    ened—not t the sinkhole.

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

    Once more, sing release.

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

    Second ts brus ing fingers, but s confident, ready for roll in Deatections 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 . . .

    Nevertever 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 unidentifiable.

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

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

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

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

    t seemed far too strong for t Gate, and tallized spirit—or  was—was muc should be.

    itration bent on staying uprig direction, Sabriel almost didn’t notice tion of noise t 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 controlling t one t  some distant Adept kno unately, sounding Ranna would  was so Life . . .

    Stle, but not too mucending s noticed ter.

    ever it  seemed quite reluctant to close in on her.

    Sabriel quickened tle more, adrenaline and suspense feeding rengt 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 no er Gate, for s identify  once  looked like a cross bet moved in a series of scuttles and sinuous wriggles.

    teps. Sabriel sed  arm completely around t’s c and balancing 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 crunced 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, back in Life.

    Or so s, till she figurehead.

    It  c all to out.

    Puzzled, soucracing 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 come from .

    tling bethe issue from an aged, underworked bellows.

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

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

    Sily to too a sances considerably different t sc from 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 do rying to ignore curiously fond feelings t o t .

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

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

    “I can get a blanket 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 back in a minute.”

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

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