Torrael returned to Qyrre as the sun set. The Abhorsen, the other Abhorsen had taken a boat and was travelling up the cost to Navis Port. As payment for their work, Torrael was given free board in the local inn, as the locals had little. In his room he took a small mechanical item from his pack and placed it on his desk. It looked like a brass pocketwatch, emblazoned with the Wallmakers' Trowel and the Stars of the Clayr. The device had belonged to his mother. The charter magic was fading now and Torrael had decided to renew the marks but had as yet been unsuccessful. He removed his bells and unbuckled his hauberk then sat down on the bed, picking up the device and turning it over and over in his hands.
The underside of the device was just a simple mirror, but incredibly clear and unmarked. He could see faded marks flowing across the surface, thousands and thousands, almost all of them unknown. As he put it down to get some sleep, something white flashed across the glass, but Torrael dismissed it as a reflection.
* * *
He left at dawn, passing though the morning mist, shapes appearing and disappearing in to the imagination. The number of Dead had been low in recent years, but there were always new necromancers or charter mages who had turned their hand to Free Magic for their own gain. Torrael was mindful of this as he passed through a boulder field left there once by the flooding river. They could be hiding behind those rocks, waiting to strike. He felt for the border between his world and that of the black river, but could sense no Dead. He pressed on towards the Ratterlin, still a day away.
It was his plan to take the ferry to Robles Town and buy a horse otherwise it could take a week to travel to Ganel. He considered going back to the House to get Gaia, his first successful horse sending, who could leave the House and travel without tiring. Gaia had served him well in the past but had developed a temperament recently, and didn't want to be ridden. No, it was best to get to Ganel as fast as possible. Something wrong with the Charter Stone? He had heard that necromancers could break Stones and kill the marks that flow across it, but had never heard of something being wrong. He passed several merchants on the way who noted the bells and nodded in acknowledgement, one service provider to another. All merchants were the same, believing they were on par with the King. Torrael couldn't help smiling as they passed.
He was nearing the river at nightfall and was prepared to make camp in the woods when he felt something cross the border into life. Drawing his sword, he sought for the direction and heard something coming towards him fast. He could tell it was weak and could have broken into life by a chance death nearby. He raised his sword and drew Saraneth moments before a black shape scuttled out of a bush. It was about the size of a small dog and shaped like an elongated pear. It must have sensed him because it shrank and tried to lunge to the side. Torrael managed to skewer it with his sword – it screamed and twisted but could not escape. He replaced Saraneth and drew Kibeth, clasping it in both hands. As he was about to ring it, something crashed through the bushes behind him, knocking him to the floor. The bell from his hands, ringing discordantly, several tones cutting through the twilight. He felt himself being pulled into Death and heard a whimper beside him. He forced himself up and managed to silence the bell, destroying its influence. The Dead creature was gone, if not past the Ninth Gate, then at least deep into Death. He returned the bell to its pouch and saw blood on his bandolier. Wiping the blood that was now running from his nose down his chin, he turned to look at who had knocked him down. Lying on the floor still, looking up at him, was a girl a little younger than himself. Her simple clothes had been torn by her scramble through the undergrowth. She stood up shakily then hugged him tightly, whispering "Thank you. You saved my life".