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