etcs blade—ted crossguard o lery. It was Abhorsen’s sword.

    t next , a ly of beesubular leat, starting tle; groill t to be ,  and pulled out a tiny silver bell,  gently, but till se t someer the sound was gone.

    “Fatruments,” whispered Sabriel.

    “tools of a necromancer.”

    “But ter marks engraved on terjected trix, wion.

    “Necromancy is Free Magic, not governed by ter . . .”

    “Fat,” replied Sabriel distantly, still staring at t raising.  of ter.”

    “You’re going to be leaving us, aren’t you?”

    trix said suddenly, as Sabriel replaced tood up, s, in tion of the all . . .”

    “Yes. Into tion. “Someto Fat I’ll find er I bear.”

    Soucer mark on  it migrix nodded and touco terns of time. As it faded, rustling noises and faint ory.

    “I’ll s to trix said firmly. “You’d better go and . . .

    prepare for tomorrow.”

    Sabriel nodded and left, trying to fix icalities of t could o her.

    Sake a cab as early as possible into Bain, t too tierre perimeter t faced ternoon . . .

    Bes kept jumping back to Ab could o trap  could so do about it, even if s to the Old Kingdom?