, as  sent to ime,”

    Mogget continued, ignoring Sabriel’s outburst.

    “And  a necromancer, he was Abhorsen.”

    “I don’t understand,” Sabriel ’s eyes anymore. “I don’t kno knohing.

    ter Magic, even my o itle?”

    “It is. he Abhorsen. Now you are.”

    Sabriel digested taring at te, silver scales and red tomato blurring into a pattern of sable blurred too, and t  try as s, s cross it. S, but to cross, in eition—Aboo ected. But s ting for o cross, but test t of a er s t of a particular pipe tobacco around a corner. Sabriel focused on it and t t separated h.

    Only to ricoc back to Life, as s, to see Mogget, fur bristling, one pao strike again.

    “Fool!”  for you to do so!”

    Sabriel stared at t, unseeing, biting back a sort as srut’s s ing, and probably t would cross as well—and shem alone and weaponless.

    “I’m sorry,” stered, boed  felt tupidly a and muc sears at bay.

    “Fat yet truly dead,” ser a moment. “I felt rapped beyond many gates. I could bring him back.”

    “You must not,” said Mogget firmly, and o carry all t of centuries.

    “You are Ab put to rest. Your path is chosen.”

    “I can  path,” Sabriel replied firmly, raising her head.

    Mogget seemed about to protest again, to ool.

    “Do as you o service. o evil? It is your fatoo—and the Dead who will be merry.”

    “I don’t t blusion in  melting, trickling down around her face.

    “ felt alive. rapped in Deat ill be reviled if I broughen?