Lanterns lit tudy, old brass lanterns t burned er Magic in place of oil. Smokeless, silent and eternal, t as tric bulbs of Ancelstierre.

    Books lined too tory above.

    A redable sat in ts legs scaled and beady-eyed, ornamental flames licking from t gripped eacabletop.

    An inkable. C, tery black ion on tif.

    table s. “Dragon desk” , and s even reacable.

    Sabriel ran  and t sensation, t doucked under ogeto o ter of table. t among t predator, possibly asleep, possibly ing to spring. Its binding er marks burned in t  closed. the Dead.

    ting mark after mark, and  even recognize most of ter cer four in t book.

    ty cers in each volume.

    Doubtless t  , but sill felt too tired and so get more doalk to Mogget, tudy for an o bed. Even four or five waking oo mucer he loss of consciousness involved in sleep suddenly seemed very appealing.

    Mogget, as if  top of teps and sauntered over to sprastand.

    “I see you  book,” ail flicking backwards and forwards as he spoke.

    “take care you do not read too much.”

    “I’ve already read it all, anyway,” replied Sabriel, sly.

    “Per. “But it isn’t al is several t one.”

    Sabriel so s s t t  bravado— ter, under ion, but  memory ed pages of tome. If it cs contents as  well—sold  s was necessary.

    “My first step must be to find my fat.”

    “I   stated, y. arted licking his paws.

    Sabriel froic sory teac scen  “tion.

    “Just tell me w saw  his plans we