ts, joined at t like Siamese twins.

    t in ted. t texture till ting a miniature bell, a miniature Ranna.

    ts sat side by side. One black, one s moving, and eac up a silver ring. ts yao to sleep.

    toucone c, silver flas. t Sabriel’s side, but s pick till clutc it , resting beloing the moonshadow of a cross upon her face.

    Sometoucone’s mind. A voice, a messenger’s voice, speaking to her.

    “idings. the Abhorsen is dead.”

    Epilogue Deat, and wondered will sill lying down.

    In ter, being carried along by t.

    For a moment, sarted to struggle, then she relaxed.

    “Everyone and everytime to die . . .”

    ss cares seemed far aoucone lived, and t made hing.

    Kerrigor ed, imprisoned if not made truly dead. e, and rest forever . . .

    Somet of ter and set .

    “t your time,” said a voice, a voice echers.

    Sabriel blinked, for ter. More t. Not Dead spirits, but somet. t instantly recognizable, for all he silver keys. Every one was an Abhorsen.

    “Go back,” they chorused. “Go back.”

    “I can’t,” sobbed Sabriel. “I’m dead! I  trength . . .”

    “You are t Ab pass til trengthin you. Live, Abhorsen, live . . .”

    Suddenly, srengto crao Life,  dropping back at t. One of tly toucant before s th behind.

    A face so vieoucone’s, staring do  ant, raucous bells t seemed out of place, till so magic, Free or Cer. But ty miles from the all . . .

    “Live, Sabriel, live,” toucone tering, ears  notic