ok into.  s take great account of rouble ones. Ser Mage and felt not Cranaque, so sold o  till morning. Rogir turned to me, asked me to intercede, and, Cer rusted he Queen. Finally, she agreed.

    By t time, t. iting,  doo t Stones are.”

    toucone’s voice faded to a winued, and grew hoarse.

    “terrible  it   Stones and t being broken, broken ers, sacrificed by  seconds, t ing across ter. I felt tones breaking and I remember Rogir, stepping up beriking so sly across . o catc I oo slooo slow . . .”

    “So tory you told me at  true,” Sabriel ears rolled down  survive . . .”

    “No,” mumbled toucone. “But I didn’t mean to lie. It was all jumbled up in my head.”

    “ did happen?”

    “two guards were Rogir’s men,”

    toucone continued,  ears, muffled tacked me, but Vlare—one of ting—t mad, battle-mad, berserk. I killed boto tones, ing, dark-coone, t to be broken. I couldn’t reacime, I kne fleraigrue, taking  above t. urned back toransfixed by my s still walking,  vile cup of blood up, as if offering me a drink.

    “‘You may tear t, like some poor-made costume.

    But I cannot die.’ “o  t lay so close beures . . .

    te liging on ter like oil. I turned, saairs; a burning, ting column of ed, or  me till only remember in sches.”

    “You sold me,” Sabriel said, trying to put as muc per o  for t binding spell. tell me, t the Abhorsen?”

    “I don’t knooucone. “Probably.”

    “Almost definitely, I would say,” added Sabriel.

    S