Sabriel regained consciousness sloo , but t only caug as sruggled to sit up. For t, sigill memory came. It tom of a sink, circular s bored into ture or artifice. From  as t y yards in diameter and a  e its murky dept starlig.

    Pain came next,  no serious injury.

    Sabriel , but everyto work.

    S fe—Mogget, or te force, slo before t—but tual instant of t never  remember it. S to ract  like she was diagnosing someone else.

    t came some time later, and  tion t s  again. it a little sc breeze to carry  of tal doldrums. orking by toucrapped  be state, even a simple Cer-spell for lig of tion, but tcer.

    As tc sank. In t, s only tral cockpit portion of tion. Its orn and crumpled underneat, and tire nose section lay some yards aared up at tc it  yello and laminated paper.

    Sabriel stared at t and sorroc  anot and field of vision.

    More small pieces of tre area. Groaning  of motivating bruised muscles, Sabriel levered  of t to  the ground.

    t area to be man-made; flagstones, carefully laid. Grass ones, and lic  recent  on tones and tom of a sinkhole.

    t t seemed to kickstart s and sarted to  a feance,  ? And ? t reminded o fetche bells.

    urbanned  ated around on  back-to-front. Sloiff neck.

    Balancing  candle on t of t anot and took to ligroyed Paper t, sly touchem.

    “I am sorry,” so make a neo carry on your name.”

    “Sentiment, Ab managed to sound like Mogget and not at all like  time. It ric generators sh