ar. ile.

    “I he Dead,”

    Sabriel said bleakly, revulsion in those words.

    “to do t lends its aid to the living . . .”

    “toucone, as t off again, building up from a fast o a jog. “t t, unlike towe.”

    “Yes,” replied Sabriel. “I here . . .”

    S need to expand upon . Neiting, or mucer Magic, and nine bo ure, and the reservoir . . .

    teeper, and t and ragged, o spare for oucone coug ill soo. t mig take an arroo finisters.

    t anyway.

    “Not . . . mucoucone gasped as turned at tcired legs gaining a fe, before starting t incline.

    Sabriel started to laugter, coug ill a lot furtruck o toucone, carrying boto tones. A long-s arrow s mark.

    “Sabriel!” toucone sed, voice ed  Cer Magic explode into life  gre  and dooo over-gifted marksman.

    Eig ips, greo ts, and s out, leaving rails of after-image in t second later, a scream from beloestified to t least one target.

    Numbly, Sabriel ill rengt and lifted ion. Stle as ted in  toucone didn’t seem to notice.  an animal-like carted to run up to an in. Frot from  over o Sabriel. Every vein and muscle in , and  h unseeing energy.

    op otal dismemberment. Sabriel  surned o , too disturbed to look on ting face t bore so little resemblance to toucone s at least he enemy . . .

    On umbled stones of -like precision.  red as a fire engine noing as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.

    Sabriel, forgetting   , started sing at o come out of the rage.

    “toucone! e’re