. wone never would be clean.

    A Cer Mage one. Sacrificed by a necromancer to gain access to Deato  break to Life.

    Sabriel bit ill it  and  unconsciously, fidgeted, er marks in nervousness and fear.

    t sort of sacrifice  cer of t noail. It o ten from t green-bound book—or o forget. Only a very po spell. Only a totally evil one  to. And evil breeds evil, evil taints places and makes ttractive to furts of . . .

    “Stop it!” ill s imaginings. It ting colder by te. So make a decision: to camp and call o move on immediately in some random direction in t so summon her guide from somewhere else.

    t part of it all  o enter Deat briefly, to call and converse  o do so ed a semi-permanent entry, as if a door  w migche cold river beyond.

    Sabriel stood for a minute, sening, every sense concentrated, like some small animal t knoor s nearby.  learning Cer Magic from Magistrix Greenower of yverley College.

    At te, s camping  of tion. Soo frigo sleep anyone. But it o call  to o ect er Magic as best ser Deation, summon  directions and get out as quickly as possible. Quicker, even.

    ition. Sabriel dropped uffed some dried fruit and offee in ed tative pose t made Cer Magic easier.

    After bit of trouble offee and eeter marks t  ect ime, and pulled t of ter.

    traced rouglines in t eac of t to o the ground.

    t mark  to troyed stone, and it almost failed. Sabriel o close o force it to leave t ation of t ed the snow.

    Sabriel ig