In the reservoir

[walksindeath]

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.

Comments

[walksindeath]

Sabriel blinks, then bites her lip absently.

"If that is so, we will be just a week away, ten days at the most. A message-hawk to Barhedrin, a rider to the Perimeter, a telegraph from there or Bain to Corvere, train back to Bain - maybe even less than a week. But we think that whatever this Enemy - as you have dubbed it so well - plans, it must involve a great number of the Dead. The Clayr have Seen many possible futures in which our entire Kingdom is nothing more than a desert, inhabited only by the Dead. What else could bring this about but the sort of massing of the Dead that we suspect? And that could be brought about only by killing all those poor, unprotected refugees. Our people are too well guarded. In any case, apart from Belisaere, there are not two hundred thousand people in one place in all the Kingdom. And certainly not two hundred thousand without a single Charter mark among them."

[makesthings]

He hates this, there's just so much that he can't do and says heavily,

"I don't know what else it could be. I just wish you weren't going."

[walksindeath]

"Being the Abhorsen is a weightly responsibility," Sabriel says quietly. "One that I understand you are wary of shouldering, even when it is shared by me."

She does, all too well - remembering her own doubts at his age, and the constant struggle of her years since taking up the burden.

"But it is your destiny, Sam. Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker? I am sure you will do very well, and we will soon be all together again, speaking of happier things."

[makesthings]

"When do you go?"

Sam asked, not even trying to hide his hope for delay. He has all the speeches written out, all he needs is the time to talk to her before she leaves, to get her help.

Its what Kait's been telling him to do, ask someone who knows and his Mother does know how terrifying The Book of the Dead can be.

[walksindeath]

"Tomorrow at dawn," Sabriel tells him reluctantly.

"Provided my leg is healed enough. Your father will ride with the real Embassy to the Northern Barbarians, and I will fly west. But I will double back to pick him up tomorrow night and we will then fly south the the House, to try to consult again with Mogget, then on to Barhedrin and the Wall. Hopefully this will confuse any spies who may be watching."

[charter_npc]

"We would stay longer," said Touchstone sadly, looking at his small family, so rarely together in one place,

"But as always duty calls--and we must answer."