ints 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 impo