to take advantage of a s in to say t.”

    “I’ll just look like a necromancer,” Sabriel replied. “A salty, unwashed necromancer.”

    “I don’t knooucone,  Sabriel  into ty, or ay alive, in—”

    “In your day,” interrupted Mogget, from e post on t t necromancers and  uncommon sights in Belisaere.”

    “I’ll arted to say.

    “If you say so,” toucone said, at time. Clearly,  believe t. Belisaere al, a y, o at least fifty toucone couldn’t imagine it fallen, decayed and in te  kno t totle different from two-hundredyear- old images locked in his memory.

    t confidence took a blooe srait.

    At first, to grealler as  toelescope, Sabriel sa tiful, rosy-pink stone t once must . Noy vanis  top torys, from seven; Boom ood as tall as ever, but sunligerior to be a gutted ruin. toll collector, hing alive.

    t boom-cill stretcrait. , rose green and barnaclebefouled out of ter and up into eaco could be seen in trouger of the deep.

    “e’ll o go in close to t toep t and ro rises,” toucone declared, after studying tes telescope, trying to gauge  even ively s boat, it oo risky, and t  for ide, late in ternoon. At some time in t, peroo its maximum tension. t iceable slippage.

    “Mogget, go to t for anyter. Sabriel, could you please coo guard against attack.”

    Sabriel nodded, pleased t toucone’s stint as captain of t to remove t nonsense out of ,  for , jumped up to t protest, despite t occasionally burst over  diagonally across toriangle of opportunit