It was hot and muggy. Sweat blurred his vision. He saw a crack of lightning. Another flash, not two seconds after the first. It felt like the lightning was trying to blast his head open. His whole body hurt and he felt nauseous.

Yet, that all seemed secondary when compared to the overwhelming need that never left him, not even in his dreams: for his experiment to be complete. He swung his legs over the side of the metal bed frame. I must see how to work progresses. I should be taking notes on all of this; it could be the greatest breakthrough in a hundred years. I must remember to ask Hedge for some proper paper. The paper he had brought from Ancelstierre was now little more than ripped, moldy tissue that fell apart whenever his tried to write on it. His clothes were in much the same state. I must look like one of the workers now. He almost laughed at the thought, but fear strangled the sudden burst of humour when he realized he couldn't find the strength to stand. I'm weaker than one of the workers. Surely I can't have caught their illness. It must just be a very bad fever. His vision swam as he tried once again to stand.

As he collapsed back onto the bed, a small voice reminded him that he didn't come to the Old Kingdom for this. How long have I been at this project? Did I tell Sam? I must have. He's likely to be on his way. He'll know of a good physician to treat this strange illness, and perhaps that of the workers too, poor devils. For all of his reassurances, he still felt a deep fear open up the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong here. It's just a scientific experiment. It could lead to great things. All scientists must take risks; this is not new. That succeeded better in comforting him, though only somewhat.

"How are you faring Master Nicholas? Are you well enough to survey the Lightning Farm?" asked a rough, deep voice. A voice that could only belong to Hedge, for the workers did not speak.

Nick turned his head to answer. The tall, balding man stood just inside the doorway, illuminated against the night sky by the flashes of lightning.

"Sorry old chap. I fear I don't have the strength for it today. This fever is really something. Say, is there perchance a doctor nearby?" He hated to let the man down, he was ever so helpful, but he simply could not rise from the bed.

"I have called for one, however they were treating a patient elsewhere, and will be unable to attend to you for a short time." Hedge explained calmly.

"Ah. Pity." He closed his eyes.

"Here, drink some water." Hedge poured a glass from the pitcher on the table by Nick's bed and held it out to him.

The glass felt outrageously heavy and the water was warm, but Nick managed to sit up and drink it all.

"Thank you. You are so very thoughtful." He lay back down.

Hedge smiled. "Rest more, Master. Recover your strength. I shall make sure the workers ready the other barge."

That's what I was going to check. He remembered. But he was far too weary now, so he merely nodded. Hedge will make sure all is going according to plan.

Nick quickly slipped into a fitful sleep.

* (See AN in notes at the end)

As always seemed to be the case these days, he dreamed of two silver hemispheres coming together. That was the goal of the first part of his experiment.

His dream shifted as the hemispheres collided and he recognized the inside of his tent. It was raining, he realized, and still abysmally hot. He thought he might be awake, but clearly that was not the case as, when he turned his head to the door, he saw an owl perched on his dresser and a winged dog sitting beside it on the ground.

What a strange dream, from science to fantasy in half a second. It must be the illness. His chest hurt, the usual ache, and he pressed his hand over it. The winged dog and the owl were now talking. Talking indeed! What strange beasts. They seemed to be talking about him, about some destroying force eating him. Did they know of the influenza? Perhaps they were assistants to the doctor Hedge had told him about. The rational, scientist part of his brain informed him that he must be going stark, raving mad to be calmly considering such outrageous things, but the larger part of his brain insisted that this was all quite normal. Must be because I'm dreaming. The owl wondered aloud whether he could walk. Well, not when I'm awake, judging by my earlier attempts, but as it's a dream, I see no reason why I shouldn't be able to stroll about.

He told them as much. The winged dog said something that sounded like they were going to try to pick him up by the hair and fly him away. Not while I'm still working on my experiment, they're not. Besides, I can't have a strange owl and winged dog sitting on my head. That would be quite improper. He told them this as well. The owl pointedly commented that he would not be able to get up and dress himself. He had not realized that he had put on pajamas at some point, but as he was intent on proving the owl wrong, he promptly took them off. Dressed and ready. He felt strangely triumphant. The owl suggested he should get something for the rain. A right smart owl. An umbrella. No, that had been broken some time ago. A coat. He crossed to his dresser and the owl quickly flew to his bed. A right strange owl. A song drifted into his head. The Owl and the Pussycat, that was it. That's quite inaccurate. Clearly that's a winged dog in front of me, not a pussycat at all.

They looked so very real. He wondered if he would be able to touch them, or if he would wake up when he tried. He reached out and touched the dog. Its nose was cold and solid in a way that things in dreams decidedly weren't. What if I'm not dreaming? A small voice had considered the possibility as soon as he'd heard the rain, but he'd pushed it far away from his thoughts. I told you so. You're going mad. Have been since you came to this strange country. And you know those workers aren't really lepers. Shut up. Good, I'm arguing with myself. I'm mad. The owl commented that he was clearly quite ill. It seemed strangely concerned.

He suddenly felt very scared. His forehead was terribly sweaty. I really should go back to sleep as Hedge suggested. The owl loudly denounced that plan, which he had not realized he had voiced, and asked the winged dog something about making him walk. That sounds unpleasant. Then the dog barked a bark that seemed to shake the world. That's probably just because I've gone mad. No dog can bark like that. No dog had wings either, but there was only so much his brain could deny at a given time. The dog told him to walk, and he felt strangely compelled to do as it commanded. Hedge told me to sleep. I won't go stumbling away after some figment of my fevered imagination. The fear was gone; now he was just frustrated at this bizarre attempt to abduct him. The dog barked again, the same bark, and again ordered him to walk. He was too weak to fight it.

Then the scene in front of him slowly turned red and he smelled fire. He felt like he was going to throw up. His fear returned tenfold when he realized what was happening, but before he could do anything, he blacked out.

Nick felt a sharp pain in his face and his eyes snapped open. He heard himself cry out. He looked around for the source of the pain, his eyes not focusing on anything. It was still raining. He felt a strange panic and his chest hurt.

He opened his eyes. A tall, incredibly pale woman with jet-black hair and a bandolier of bells like the kind Hedge sometimes wore was crouching over him. She seemed very worried. He briefly felt very strongly that he should find out what troubled her so and that he should help her – before she told him that if he didn't run, she would stab him with a wickedly sharp sword he hadn't realized she was holding. Well that's not a terribly polite way to get to know someone.

His head ached and his thoughts moved slowly. The heat settled over him. Blast this damn heat. I thought northern summers were cooler than this. Then he noticed a large, flickering light over the woman's shoulder. Wait. I say, is my tent on fire? He refocused on the woman. She's quite pretty.

Now is not the time for noticing beautiful women Sayre! He focused on the movement just over her other shoulder. Why are all of the workers running at us? Taking all of the factors into consideration, he felt like it was time to listen to the pale woman and leave. He ran.

…

The rustle of fabric sounded like the rustle of the leaves that now fell everywhere in the kingdom but the Glacier as the guests turned to look at the couple walking to the front of the room.

The bride was wearing a deep purple dress with a circlet of moonstones around her forehead, contrasting beautifully with her dark hair. The groom wore a strange outfit from his home country to the South but tailored in the Old Kingdom. It consisted of dark grey trousers, a vest and coat of the same shade, a white shirt underneath the coat and vest, and a piece of fabric as blue as his eyes that looped around his neck, tucked under the collar and was elaborately knotted at the base of his throat. They made a strange pair.

The man was beaming as he strode foreword. The woman too smiled, but looked a great deal more nervous. Those that knew her knew that this was not because of the ceremony that was to come, but rather because she disliked being the center of attention of a large group of people. Her family knew that being the center of attention of these particular people made her especially anxious. They were in the Glacier of the Clayr and most in attendance called the Glacier their home. The only ones who did not live there stood in stark contrast to the others.

King Touchstone, Abhorsen Queen Sabriel, Princess Ellimere, Wallmaker Prince Sameth and Mr. and Mrs. Sayre sat in the front row. The latter two, the groom's parents, looked slightly distressed. This was in part due to the fact that they had, just that morning, been basically commanded by their son to wear some odd Old Kingdom clothing provided to them by the King and Queen of country and join a group of strange women in a large chamber in a Glacier. Nonetheless, they both smiled at their son and his soon-to-be wife, despite their doubts about the marriage and their present discomfort.

Nick ran his thumb over the back of Lirael's hand. He knew she was trying hard to not show how nervous she was. Holding the ceremony here had been his suggestion, but everyone had expected it. Lirael had seemed relieved at the suggestion, free from having to wonder whether she truly wanted it enough to suggest it, he suspected. However, her anxiety about the decision had steadily increased as the date drew nearer and he had wondered whether they should hold the ceremony elsewhere. She had insisted that she truly did want it to be in the Glacier, but Nick had still been nervous that she would freeze in the doorway and run away once she arrived. But she had not, and here they were.

As was custom among the Clayr, the bride's (for the groom was almost never a Clayr) closest parental relative officiated the ceremony. So it was Kirrith who stood on the raised, whitewood platform at the back of the hall. For once, Lirael thought, Kirrith didn't look angry or disappointed. She almost looked nervous. That was strangely reassuring.

Suddenly they were stepping up onto the platform. Mind racing, she turned to face Nick as he turned to her.

Nick's heart warmed at the small smile that lit Lirael's face as she turned to look at him. He took her hands in his and squeezed gently. I'm here for you. Just focus on me, not the Clayr. This is about us after all. Perhaps she read that from his face because she squeezed back and her smile grew.

She heard, as if in a dream, the words she'd heard spoken at several occasion before, now spoken by her aunt Kirrith. She hadn't imagined she'd every hear someone speak them for her since she was very little, before she'd left the Hall of Youth. As it was, she didn't concentrate on the words. Nick captured her full attention. His lake-blue eyes held hers and for the first time that day, she felt completely at ease.

After the words were spoken, Kirrith opened a small velvet bag and handed a ring to Nick and one to Lirael. This was an Ancelstierrian custom, though Sam had in fact made the rings. He'd crafted them according to Nick and Lirael's designs some time after Nick had proposed. Neither had seen the ring the other had designed until now.

The one Lirael slid on Nick's finger was silver with a golden band around the center. It reminded her of the lightning when they're first met, of the colour of his hair, of the daisy chain he'd used on the Hrule when they'd met again in Ancelstierre. It reminded her of his laugh and his smile and how she felt when she was with him.

The ring Nick had designed for Lirael was also silver. The band looped around and held either side of a small ruby.

Because that was the colour of your waistcoat when you were a librarian. The colour of the path you chose. The colour I saw when I first met you. The colour of the sky when I came out of Death and you were there. He planned to explain that later.

There were also messages engraved on the inside of the ring. That had been Lirael's suggestion. Sam had taught them how to leave a message engraved with magic and then left it up to them to do so after he'd completed the rest. They would read them that evening and only they would ever know what was written.

The hall was completely silent as Nick looked back up at Lirael.

"May you live a long and happy life." The ceremony was almost complete.

They kissed, arms looping around each other. Nick heard people clapping far away, but all he cared about was the feel of Lirael in his arms and the taste of her lips.

The rest happened quickly. There was a feast and many congratulations from many people he didn't know and some he did.

Tonight they would all stay in the Glacier, but the next morning he and Lirael would climb into a blue and silver paperwing and fly over the orange, red and yellow forests of the Old Kingdom to Ancelstierre. They would spend two weeks in the country of Nick's birth before traveling back to the Abhorsen's House for another week. They would then go back to the palace, where they had decided to live, as Sabriel and Touchstone had invited them.

Married. Nick thought, elated but dazed, as they climbed the stairs to their room. We're married.

…

Winter, he had been told, would be his wife's busiest season. It made sense, being the season of the dead and all, he'd thought. He had not anticipated just how busy it would be.

And this wasn't even a particularly bad winter according to King Touchstone. Many free magic creatures had been awakened by Orannis's release, though most had been dormant until the following winter.

Even a year after Orannis and almost half a year after he'd returned to the Old Kingdom, he hadn't realized how busy the season was. That winter he had just been adjusting to the Old Kingdom during the last winter, so everything had seemed overwhelming. Now that he had a better sense of things, he truly understood the danger of the winter months.

In Ancelstierre, he had enjoyed the winter. The sharp breaths of air heralded the holidays and a chance to hunker down in his study and pour over new and old texts and scientific journals, filling pages with notes about interesting experiments and theories. Now every breath was a reminder of trouble. When Lirael was with him, he was reminded that soon she would not be. When she was away, off fighting some deviant creature with her sister or by herself, he imagined the worst. He remembered the cold, grey river that stole one's heat in a way no blizzard could. His fear for Lirael felt colder still.

One day, close to the end of the year, Nick sat by the window in the palace library at night, staring out over the snow-covered city of Belisaere.

"May I?" asked a deep voice from beside him.

Nick jumped and turned to see the King (Touchstone. He reminded himself. After all, he is my brother by marriage now) standing next to the chair across from him.

"Of course." He replied.

"This is not the first night you've come here." It was not a question, but Nick answered all the same.

"No."

They sat in silence for some time, watching the snow swirl and settle lazily over the sleeping city.

"The first winter is the hardest." Touchstone said quietly, not looking away from the window.

Nick studied Touchstone's face. He looked less tired than he had when Nick had seen him with Sam at the hospital near Somersby, though his hair was now greyer.

"The worst is when I sleep and forget that she's gone. Then I have to wake up and remember where she is." He'd barely admitted to himself how scared he was, but it seemed easy here with Touchstone. If anyone understood, it would be him. Not even Sam truly understood, after all he'd know his mother had led a dangerous life since he was old enough to understand it, so it was normal for him.

"The first time Sabriel left, I paced our room or wandered around the castle every night until she came back." Touchstone continued.

"I don't like to be away from windows for very long when Lirael's away." Nick admitted.

"Don't want to miss the paperwing?" Touchstone guessed.

Nick nodded and looked back out the window.

"How did you get through it, that first winter? How do you do it every time? How can you focus on anything else?" The questions poured out of him suddenly.

Touchstone smiled sadly. "Not easily, and it is probably not the best way. I pretend that her not returning is impossible. I lie to myself and pretend she's just in Belisaere. I block out the truth with work and with Sam and Ellie."

He lapsed into silence and looked away. Nick noticed his jaw was clenched tightly. This is hard for him, even after all this time.

"We communicate with message hawks so that we always know what's happening with one another." He added after a moment.

Then he smiled and his face seemed to light up. "And then she comes back. Not always for a long time, sometimes only for a day. But she comes back. She always comes back."

Nick stared out at the starless night sky. She'll come back. He tried to force every other possibility out of his mind. He tried not to believe the alternative as firmly as he had once not believed in magic. He couldn't. His vision blurred and he realized that he was crying.

"I can't." He whispered.

"Imagine how it would feel if she didn't return." Touchstone said softly.

Nick tried.

"I can't do that either." He repeated. "It's even harder than pretending that she can't be hurt. It hurts too much, I…" understand.

Touchstone nodded. "Exactly. Go to sleep. Tomorrow they'll come back. When they don't, tell yourself that they'll come back the next day. Keep telling yourself that, and eventually it will be so."

He stood. "In time you will learn what situations and creatures pose a true risk, and which are just errands of little risk. Though you will never truly be at ease with it, you will live with it, because the other option is not possible."

He held out a hand to help Nick up. "It will get easier to handle after you've been through a winter."

For the first time that winter, Nick felt warm. He was not alone in this.

He'd felt something similar after he'd had a conversation with Sabriel when he'd returned to the Old Kingdom following the Hrule incident (the Case of the Creature in the Case, as he liked to call it). He had felt awkward and out of place in a way that neither Sam nor Lirael understood. He worried he'd never feel at home in the Old Kingdom.

Sam said to talk to his mother as she had grown up in Ancelstierre and had likely felt the same when she'd first come across the wall. He had wondered whether she had, given her accent, which was a blend of the northern Ancelstierrian accent and an Old Kingdom accent (he still couldn't tell the difference between the accents in different regions).

Surprisingly, many of the challenges she had faced were ones he had been grappling with. It felt good to realize that he was not so different from them. Sabriel had managed to figure it out and so would he, he vowed. Lirael, Sam, Sabriel, Touchstone and even Ellimere had told him they'd all help him however they could, that he need only ask.

He accepted Touchstone's hand. He would go from day to day and it would get easier. Lirael would come back and winter would end.

…

It had been four and a half years since Orannis and three years since he and Lirael had gotten married.

He was wandering through the Spring Fare. It was early; the small fare tents were just being set up. Just ahead he saw a man trace a series of marks on his table with metal dust. He stopped to watch. The man struck a match and held it over the metal dust, which instantly flared up so brightly Nick had to look away. Magnesium.

When the light faded, he opened his eyes again. The he closed them and opened them again in disbelief. A small metal drawer sat where the marks had been only a moment ago. A desk made of magnesium.

He gaped at the tent for a while before his mind managed to calm down enough for him to walk over.

"How did you do that?" Nick asked the man incredulously.

The man shrugged. "A few relatively simple spells of creation sparked by the reaction between heat and magnesium. Not that I'm going to tell you what spells they were, mind you. I have a business to run."

Sparked by the reaction between heat and magnesium. He knew the reaction, of course. Science teachers often used it to spark the interest of their students, not that Nick's interest had ever required sparking. He used a scientific reaction.

His excitement grew as he allowed himself to consider something he had though he'd lost since he chose to return to the Old Kingdom four years previously.

He had told himself that it didn't exist here, that magic took the place of science in this country. Ellimere had smiled curiously when he'd voiced that opinion at dinner one day and said she was sure he'd figure something out. Nick had remained stubborn and insisted that he could no longer be a scientist, despite Lirael's and Sam's insistence that he was wrong, that he was just closing himself to the idea that both could exist because he had never tried to consider that both might exist.

They were right, and Lirael had later guessed why Nick wouldn't admit it. She told him that he wouldn't try to believe in both because he was scared of hoping that both could exist. He been furious and denied it. That had sparked the biggest fight they'd had in the entire time they'd known each other.

She had been right about that too, of course, but he hadn't been ready to hear it. But now that he'd seen it, now that he knew it was possible… All of the new lines of exploration uncoiled easily before him, as though they'd been waiting for him to realize they were there all along. He could study the interaction between the laws of science and Charter magic, why the latter didn't exist in Ancelstierre, how they changed each other and modified the laws of nature that he had loved since he was little.

He laughed. He could still be a scientist. He was still a scientist. He couldn't wait to tell Lirael and the others.

His heart raced and he could hear it loud as a drum in his ears. Sam had been studying the origins of the Charter. He could start there and then go down whatever path that led him to.

He walked over to a nearby tent and bought a large, leather-bound book and a nice pen. He set the book down and wrote on the cover as neatly as he could. Laboratory notes.

After all, if he was going to do this, he had to start it properly.

AN: the sections bounded by the *s are very, very similar to the first pages of chapter 9 in Abhorsen. I changed it a bit, because I didn't want to quote, but pretty much they're events from the book. I wanted to write Nick's point of view for the whole of the first encounter, so there's that.