embedded in t ser marks moving on the blades.

    “I didn’t realize your swords were ensorcelled,”

    sinued. “they are.”

    Surprise crossed toucone’s face, and confusion.

    “I t you kne  to take t Mogget said you—”

    opped in mid-sentence, as Sabriel let out a felt sigh.

    “ell, any t time he—or she, I suppose—made your sword.”

    “Mine?” asked Sabriel, ly touc about  ion said,  all. So it probably ant past w would know, s.

    Mogget probably , or couldn’t, tell  he would know.

    “I suppose ter wake everybody up,”

    sion about se present.

    “Are toucone, grunting as he floor.

    “I don’t t Mordaut   of poor . . . Patar . . . so its presence  box of grave dirt, ructions before t t . I guess I s to be sure.”

    “Nooucone.

    “No let’s , and organize some people to carry ligter talk to t a boat for the morning.”

    “And a good supply of fis, en wing, he heavy drone of snoring fisher-folk.

    ted seeing strange lig on ter too, and s fire arroo tones, but sas guttered out.

    Sabriel advanced out on ter, and stood near t loosely draped over o t see anyt sronger. t trengto a single creature, only noone as a portal. An instant later, ss particular presence.

    t had found her.

    “toucone,” sing to keep t by night?”

    “Yes,” replied toucone, , tern-liging only . ated, as if  be offering an opinion, t it , and t is very dark.”

    “Mogget can see in tly, moving closer to toucone so t hear her.