walksindeath | In the reservoir

In the reservoir

The faint light from the Charter Stones seems to turn everything to muted grey and gold from behind Sabriel's half-closed eyes. It is warm here in the centre of the reservoir, slowly melting away the chill from crossing the water earlier. She lies still in the bottom of the boat so as not to jar her leg; it still hurts, but by now in a healthier, sorer way as the spells drain away the inflammation and infection, bolstered by the strength of the Charter stones above.

The stones are always comforting, although sometimes if she thinks too deeply, she wonders if the darker traces on the rock under the flow of charter marks are Touchstone's blood, from the many months he had spent mending them. And then she remembers coming down here the first time, into the horror of black water broken stones and oncoming Dead.

Maudlin thoughts, and probably feverish.

She closes her eyes all the way, and wills the Charter to heal her faster. There's so little time for anything, these days.

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Looking over the side of the barge, Sam saw that the fire had even spread under water that created a net of marks on the floor.

The magical barrier completely enclosed them and it relied on the power of the Great Stones, he wanted to ask his father how it was done, but there wasn't time.

"We can talk now without fear of being overheard, by natural ears or other means," Sabriel says, and reaches for their hands, taking Sameth's in one, and Ellimere's in the other and holding them tight. Her fingers are warm from the strength of the Charter down here.

"Your father and I are certain that the Southerlings were brought across the Wall to be killed - slain by a necromancer who has used the bodies to house Dead spirits who owe him allegiance. Only Free Magic sourcery can explain how the bodies and all other traces have diappeared, unseen by our patrols or the Clayr's Sight."

Ellie curls her hand around her mother's, taking some comfort from the familiar strength.

"But I thought the Clayr could See everything," she says, distinctly off-balance and hating every moment of it. "I mean, they often get the time wrong, but they still See."

"Don't they?"

"Over the past four or five years the Clayr have become aware that their Sight is clouded, and possibly has always been clouded, in the region around the eastern shores of the Red Lake and Mount Abed," Touchstone said grimly. It bothered him that they couldn't See there. Even if it wasn't where the king's influence held.

"A large area, which not coincidentally is also where our royal writ does not hold true. There is some power there that opposes both the Clayr and our Authority, blocking their Sight and breaking the Charter Stones I have set there."

His palms twitched as he said that. The need for going back there when this was all done would be strong and he would have to make it a high priority.

"Well, shouldn't we call out the Trained Bands and take them and the Guard and go down there and sort it out once and for all?" protests Ellimere, former Captain of the Wyverly College hockey team.

Sabriel spares Ellimere an affectionately amused glance.

"We don't know where - or what - it is," she says, expression sobering once more. "Every time we undertake to search the area for the source of the trouble, something happens somewhere else. We did think we might have found the root of it five years ago, at the battle of Roble's Town--"

"The necromancer woman,"

Sam interrupted, he remembered the story since he'd been thinking a lot about necromancers lately,

"The one with the bronze mask."

"Yes. Chlorr of the Mask," Sabriel replies, eyes distant. It's a name she does not like to recollect.

"She was very old and powerful, so I had presumed she was the architect of our difficulties there. But now I am not so sure. It is clear someone else is still working to befuddle the Clayr and incite trouble across the kingdom. There is also someone behind Corolini in Ancelstierre and perhaps even the Southerling wars as well."

She pauses and glances over at her son.

"One possibility is the man you encountered in Death, Sam."

"The..the necromancer?"

His voice squeaks and he knows everyone must be able to hear the fear in his voice as he rubs at his wrists as his sleeves ride up, showing his burned skin.

"He must have great power to raise so many Dead hands on the other side of the Wall."

"And with that power, I should have heard of him, but I have not. How has he kept himself hidden all these years? How did Chlorr hide when we scoured the Kingdom after Kerrigor's fall, and why did she reveal herself to attack Roble's Town? Now I am wondering if perhaps I underestimated Chlorr. She may even have evaded me at the last. I made her walk beyond the Sixth Gate, but I was sorely tired and I did not follow her all the way to the Ninth. I should have. There was something strange about her, something more than the usual taint of Free Magic or necromancy..."

She pauses, remembering. Strange and... familiar.

"Chlorr was old, old enough for other Abhorsens to have encountered her in the past, and I suspect that this other necromancer is also ancient. But I have found no record of either at the House. Too much knowledge was destroyed when the palace burnt, and more has been lost besides, simply by the march of time. And the Clayr, while they keep everything in that Great Library of theirs, rarely find anything useful in it. Their minds are too much bent upon the future. I should like to look there myself, but that is a task that would take months, if not years. I think Chlorr and this other necromancer were in league, and may be still, if Chlorr has survived. But who leads and who follows is unclear. I also fear we will find that they are not alone. But whoever or whatever moves against us, we must make sure their plans come to naught."

"What plans?" asks Ellimere, "What are they...it...whatever...going to do?"

Sabriel glances at Touchstone, almost in hesitation.

But they agreed, and no matter that these are their children - they should know.

"We think that they plan to bring all two hundred thousand Southerling refugees into the Old Kingdom - and kill them," she says, and her voice comes out very quiet. "Two hundred thousand deaths in a single poisoned minute, to make an avenue out of Death for every spirit that has lingered there from the First Precinct to the very precipice of the Ninth Gate. The summon a host of the Dead greater than any that has ever walked in life. A host that we could not possibly defeat, even if all the Abhorsens who have ever lived were somehow to stand against them."

There's a long silence after she finishes speaking and Sam found his imagination filling with a host of the Dead.

It was too easy to imagine Life-starved corpses stretching from horizon to horizon and towards him.

He wouldn't show just how frightened he was, he couldn't so he just gripped his mother's hand tightly.

Speaking into the silence, breaking it, Touchstone said, "That will not happen, of course." He said it firm as if there was no other option. No other possibility. "We will make sure that it doesn't, that the refugees never even cross the Wall. However, we can't stop the on our side. The Wall is too long, with too many broken gates and too many old Crossing Points on the other side. So we must ensure that the Ancelstierrans don't send them across in the first place. Consequently your mother and I have decided to go to Ancelstierre ourselves - secretly, so not to arouse alarm or suspicion. We will go to Covere and negotiate with their government, which will undoubtedly take several months. That mans we will be relying on you two to look after the Kingdom."

Sam wasn't sure what to think of that, he knew Ellimere would manage but could he?

After swallowing a few times to gather his courage, he said, "What, ah, exactly do you mean?"

"As far as both our friends and enemies need to know, I will be on a diplomatic mission to the barbarian chefs at their Southern Stop, and Sabriel will be going about her business as mysteriously as she always does," replied Touchstone. "In our absence, Ellimere will continue as co0regent with Jall Oren -everyone seems to have become accustomed to that. Sameth, you will assist her. But most important, you will continue in your studies of the Book of the Dead."

"Speaking of such things, I have something for you," Sabriel puts in, and pushes her pack to Sam, wincing with the strain.

"Look in the top."

Sam undid the straps and felt quite sick since he knew he has to tell them now.

Inside there was an oilskin-wrapped package that he slid out slowly as his fingers felt cold and clumsy and his eyes felt blurry.

"I found these at the House - or rather the sendings had set them out," Sabriel says, looking at the bells with curiosity, and missing the look on Sam's face.

"I don't know where they found them, or why they've got them out now. They are very, very old. So old that I have no record of who bore them first. I would have asked Mogget, but he still sleeps--"

Scowling Touchstone said,"Except for when I caught that salmon last year."

"Mogget would not wake," continued Sabriel, suppressing a smile without much success -- which then softens into something prouder as she looks at her son.

"But as I have my own, these are clearly meant for the Abhorsen-in-Waiting. Congratulations, Sam."

Sam nodded, not even opening the package, he could feel the weight and power of the seven Charter-spelled bells of an Abhorsen.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

"Later."

Sam could hear his voice sounding almost like a croak and tried for a smile that he knew didn't work.

His mother's eyes were on him, but he couldn't look at her, he kept thinking about Kait asking him why he did something he hated.

He still didn't have any other answer than there was no one else so he'd somehow learn to use the bells.

"I'm glad the bells have come," Sabriel says. "Most Abhorsens before me worked with their successors, sometimes for many years, as I hope we will work together. According to Mogget, my father trained with his aunt for nearly a decade. I have often wished I had had the same opportunity."

Mogget again, of course. She misses him oddly when he's in his deep sleep periods.

And worries for the future, knowing that some day he will break free again, and be as he is in the bar. Not that he's uncontrolled or even entirely unpleasant, there -- it's wondering how that robs her of sleep at night.

She hesitates, then continues on. Sameth is so young - but he must understand how urgently he is needed.

"To tell the truth, I will need your help, Sam."

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