g  so do it in order to fig t said so save herself.

    Mogget ime for sucrospection, mourning or pangs of responsibility.   ce, before padding forely inserting .

    “Ow!  did you—”

    “time to e sightseeing,”

    Mogget said. “tern  least half an hour.”

    “I’ve got all . . .” Sabriel began, t  ttom end of trance tunnel, probably as a pile of Mordicant-burned ash.

    “t everyt, knohem.

    You can get dressed, pack up, and ake it you intend to go to Belisaere?”

    “Yes,” replied Sabriel sly. Sect a tone of smugness in Mogget’s voice.

    “Do you kno there?”

    Sabriel . Mogget already knehe smugness.

    “Do you have a . . . er . . . map?”

    Sabriel ss as sing to lean for, or perail a  judicious tug. Sudy and asked several of t to be tarmap in toold  must still be , suddenly confused about tities. If soo once   in ty of being Ab ain and solid in  even knoo beset  of Ab seemed to provide more trouble than service.

    “Do you ive to say—anyt migually help?” she snapped.

    Mogget ya seemed to contain the very essence of scorn.

    “ell, yes. Of course. I knoter come h you.”

    “Come s, bent doc’s ears, till he ducked away.

    “Someone o look after you,” Mogget  added. “At least till you’ve groo a real Abhorsen.”

    “t I ill like a map. Since you knory so  be possible for you to—I don’t kno, so I can make a sketching?”

    Mogget coug, and t tle. “You! Drac  ter if I undertook tograpo tudy and put out an inkw