Grey mist coiling up y of escape, so tig even flex under skin, blink. And noto see but patcid pool.
t, pain exploding everyoes to brain and back again. t clearing, mobility returning. No more grey patc blurry colors, sloing into focus. A tered. No, not a soo young, not the family . . .
“t like a mouse creeping from a dusty larder.
“Abhorsen.”
ted, o rue unconsciousness and sanity-restoring rest.
, and felt a moment’s panic , t back fres filtering do must be soon after daed, dizzy and stupid, till tall masts all around, the unfinished ship nearby.
“tered to himself, frowning.
no tering-ram effect of a severe certain been drinking. t teps.
Rogir ting image of a pale, concerned face, bloodied and bruised, black in a fringe under . A deep blue surcoat, he Abhorsen.
“S t voice, interrupting ering recollection. “S up before thing.”
t seem to belong to anytill t the nearby ship.
te cat curally sharp, green-eyed gaze.
“ are you?” said tiously flickering from side to side, looking for a aining a s, trousers and some under it ohe rock.
“Don’t be alarmed,” said t. “I’m but a faitainer of t. For t.”
t lift it. Memories o o a magnet. t gave t-creature was.
“You ,” esting his guess.
“?” replied Mogget, yawning.
“Dear me. I can’t recall it. he name?”
A good question, t t remember. erms, but of as e past. o s in pain and anger.
“Unusual name,” commented Mogget. “More of a bear’s name, t grooucone?”
“!” ted. “t’s a fool’s name! how dare—”
“Is it unfitting?” interrupted Mogget, coolly.
“You do remember w you’ve done?”
t t kno since t trying to remember his name.
to bear it.
“Yes, I remember,” oucone. But I shall call you—”
ried again.
“You can’t say it,” Mogget said. “A spell tied to tion of—but I can’t say it, nor tell anyone ture of it, or o fix it. You be able to talk about it eits. Certainly, it ed me.”
“I see,” replied toucone, somberly. try tell me, whe Kingdom?”
“No one,” said Mogget.
“A regency, t is perhaps—”
“No. No regency. No one reigns. No one rules.
t first, but it declined . . .
h help.”
“ do you mean, ‘at first’?” asked toucone. “ exactly has happened? here have I been?”
“ted for one y years,” Mogget announced callously.
“Anarc ty, tempered by s could do. And you, my boy, of t two hundred years.”
“the family?”
“All dead and past te, save one, who should be. You know who I mean.”
For a moment, to return toucone to ate. frozen, only t movement of sinued life. tears started in o meet urned hands.
Mogget c sympatill ts ween sobs became calmer.
“t crying over it,” t said y of people rying to put tter to rigury alone, trying to deal ones and t Abainly isn’t lying around crying . Make yourself useful and help her.”
“Can I?” asked toucone bleakly, wiping .
“?” snorted Mogget. “Get dressed, for a start. things aboard here for you as well. Swords and suchlike.”
“But I’m not fit to wield royal—”
“Just do as you’re told,” Mogget said firmly.
“t makes you feel better, t era, you’ll find common sense is more important than honor.”
“Very oucone muttered, humbly.
ood up and put on t, but couldn’t get trousers past highs.
“t and leggings in one of ts back said, after coucone rapped in too-tigher.
toucone nodded, divested rousers, and clambered up taking care to keep as far a as possible. he gap.
“You tell her?” he asked.
“tell well w?”
“Abo it intentional. My part, I mean. Please, don’t tell her—”
“Spare me t, in a disgusted tone. “I can’t tell tell her.
tion is ory.
ell you t of our current saga while you dress.”
Sabriel returned from t ions he blood.
to reatments. All in all, s about eig normal, raten percent functional, and so breakfast ot. Not t ested ter mark on to be unsullied by Free Magic, or necromancy.
Sed to still be asleep, so s a faint frisson of surprise and suspense co nearby, precariously draped on the ship’s rail.
Sy tempered by to be rangers. dressed. Older and someimidating, particularly since o of gold-striped red, criped gold, disappearing into turned-dos of russet doeskin. , to put on a red leat aco be giving him some problems.
ter scabbards near , stabbing points s of t e .
“Curse t ten paces ae deep, but currently frustrated and peaking emper.
“Good morning,” said Sabriel.
ducking to o transform tion into a boing in a descent to one knee.
“Good morning, milady,” meeting from top of his curly-haired head.
“I’m not ‘milady,’” said Sabriel, iquette principles applied to tuation. “My name is Sabriel.”
“Sabriel? But you are t sound overly brig, ations.
Pertle conversation at breakfast after all.
“No, my fatern look at Mogget, o interfere. “I’m a sort of stand-in. It’s a bit complicated, so I’ll explain later. ’s your name?”
ated, t remember, milady. Please, call me . . . call me toucone.”
“toucone?” asked Sabriel. t sounded familiar, but s place it for a moment.
“toucone? But t’s a jester’s name, a fool’s name. ?”
“t’s ion.
“ell, I o call you sometinued. “toucone. You knoradition of a so bad. I guess you th, of course.”
“In Deatoucone. Sabriel’s. Surprisingly, elligent gaze. Perer all, s, as s ic and Free Magic would s.
I am curious as to w was used on you.”
toucone looked aain siness, or embarrassment.
S tion best.
“I don’t remember very well,” he said, slowly.
“t of attack upon the Queen . . .
an ambus ttom of tairs.
I remember figer Magic— treac know how.”
Sabriel listened carefully,
a diamond of protection . . . t could , surely ted till it failed. ? And, most importantly, o get placed in t protected of places? Sions for later investigation, for anot ruck least two hing he knew.
“You ime,” sly, uncertain about o break t I mean is it’s been a very long time—”
“two oucone.
“Your minion told me.”
“Your family . . .”
“I , as immobile as t to Sabriel -first.
“I o fig the Kingdom.”
Sabriel didn’t take t. But a moment’s t closed o Mogget, .
“ old ?” shing her words.
“tate of the Kingdom, generally speaking,”
replied t. “Recent events. Our descent y as Abo remedy tuation.”
“t? S, w may be?”
“Not specifically,” said Mogget, c he could presume as much.”
“As you see,” Sabriel said, rat been totally ierre, so I tle idea about o Cer Magic. I face some dire enemies, probably under tion of one of ter Dead, a necromantic adept. And I’m not out to save t to find my fat to take your oat, particularly as met. I am o accompany us to t approximation of civilization, but I I er t. And, please remember t my name is Sabriel. Not milady. Not Ab’s time for breakfast.”
it, salked over to arted getting out some oatmeal and a small cooking pot.
toucone stared after , ttac on tied to and o t clump of trees.
Mogget followed cicks for a fire.
“Sierre,” said t. “S realize refusing your oat. And it’s true enoug her ignorance.
t’s one of the reasons she needs your help.”
“I can’t remember mucoucone, snapping a brancy.
“Except my most recent past. Everyt sure if it’s real or not, learned or imagined. And I insulted. My oat h much.”
“But you’ll . It a question.
“No,” said toucone. “’s all I’m good for.”
As Sabriel feared, ttle conversation over breakfast. Mogget off in searcoucone ook it in turns to eat y, toucone ive. Sabriel started asking a lot of questions, but as andard response remember,” she soon gave up.
“I don’t suppose you can remember o get out of tion, after a particularly long stretch of silence.
Even to addressing a miscreant twelve-year-old.
“No, I’m sorry . . .” toucone began automatically, tary spasm of pleasure. “ait! Yes—I do remember! tair, to t remember w is . . .”
“thern rim,”
Sabriel mused. “It be too o find.
ance?”
“I’m not sure,” replied toucone, guardedly, boo calm t ting bigger and bigger inside y memory—after all, t o magical incarceration.
But t seemed to be an affectation. or playing tler—or rator trying to impersonate a butler as best w drew me a map,” salking as muco calm ion.
“But, as ly Ab two-hundred-year-old memories . . .”
Sabriel paused, and bit eful.
opped speaking, but no reaction s as ill be carved from wood.
“ I mean is,” Sabriel continued carefully, “it e to Belisaere, and tant landmarks and locations on the way.”
S t of t in tective oilskin.
toucone took one end as s, and ones, welescope case.
“I t racing from to a point a little nortterlin river delta.
“No,” said toucone, sounding decisive for t time, abbing to t’s only ten leagues from t and at titude as Mount Anarson.”
“Good!” exclaimed Sabriel, smiling, ’s t route to Belisaere, and take?”
“I don’t kno conditions, mi . . .
Sabriel,” toucone replied. er, more subdued. “From says, tate of anarco. ts, tures . . .”
“Ignoring all t,” Sabriel asked, “which way did you normally go?”
“From Nestohe fishing village here,”
toucone said, pointing at t to t of post o Callibe, a rest day terior road up t Pass, six days all told to Aunden. A rest day in Aunden, to Orc o tgate of Belisaere.”
“Even t days, t’d be eig least six ’s too long. Is ther way?”
“A s, from Nestoerrupted Mogget, stalking up beo place .”