ing back to trucks, to yverley College—it’s on t a mile . . .”

    “Sout,” Sabriel provided.

    “Sout. Repeat t back.”

    Private Macking repeated to get aurned to the longservice corporal and said, “Corporal Anshey.

    You look pretty fit. Do you t a rope around t coffin?”

    “Reckon so, sir,” replied Corporal Ansacured o ther soldiers.

    “Come on you blokes, get yer ropes out.”

    ty minutes later, ted by sed from a local farmer. As Sabriel ed, dragging it y yards of trucks stopped t out electric liged telephone.

    Curiously, t seem overly frige its bronze surface sluggisomacer marks. S a  not a panicked one either.

    “e’ll o drive to toucone, as t ts can and the sickness much longer.”

    toucone seettering. “I’m not sure I can, either.”

    Nevert rope coucone climbed up to t and picked up t to  omac to rise into  look back at the sarcophagus.

    toucone said “tcco t up, and sook up t  a quick pace.

    “Is t as . . .” Sabriel said anxiously.

    to cover, and the horizon.

    “It’s a oucone ans to speak. “e’ll be t goes.”

    to buzz and cioned t Kerrigor mig did. Sabriel found  catcing  surface of t s . time s a glimpse of some tree’s pale bark, or a c. as t fog curling doer disc by time trucks turn off turning up t led to t-iron gates of yverley College.  Sabriel for a moment. But t rue. It ter part of  t . It ies.

    But like raveled.

    Electric ligly in tique glass lanterns on eite, but to mere spar