All to of t s of arccer. ty-six villagers ty-one.

    “ty-til this morning,”

    to Sabriel, as op a piece of very ale bread. “e t o t Monjer Sto’s boy  after daoday, sucked dry like a ouc  paper, t still s souco flakes of . . . something like ash.”

    Sabriel looked around as ting terns, candles and rusapers t added boto t and tmospo teristic accato movement.

    “e to fatalism. Sood alone, accompanied by tragedy. Sabriel guessed s her family.

    s and siblings, too, for s over forty.

    “It’ll take us, one by one,” tinued, matter-of-fact, ainty. Around c looking at o meet o accept her words.

    Most looked at Sabriel and s blind faite confidence, but a gambler’s  a new  change a run of losses.

    “the Abhorsen who came when I was young,”

    tinued—and Sabriel sa at old me t it s t came in t’s caravan. Is it still the Dead?”

    Sabriel t for a moment, ally flicking t stir in t sat by . s strayed to o Belisaere; to be arrayed against rolling mind.

    “I he Dead,”

    s last, speaking clearly so all could  I cannot free the mainland village.

    ter evil at  same evil t er Stone—and I must find and defeat it as soon as I can.  is done, I urn— I er Stone ored.”

    “e understand,” replied t pinued, speaking more to o  Sabriel. “e can survive s. If Callibe  fallen to trade, for vegetables and otuffs.”

    “You cer,”

    toucone said. ood beern bodyguard.

    “try to fill it in ones, or puser by building bridges of bo