Lirael's eyes flickered open, and as a reflex, brushed the frost from her eyelashes and hair. Touchstone and Ellimere looked on expectantly, while Sameth simply regarded the ground.
"You felt it too, didn't you?" Sameth asked softly. Lirael nodded, tucking a strand of her long dark hair behind an ear. Sameth still retained his Death Sense, and everyone there knew it. It wasn't far fetched for Lirael to assume that he had felt the power of the bells too.
"What do you make of it?" She asked, desperate for any theories. Sameth shrugged in response, looking up with a blank, sorrowful look upon his face.
"Are you planning on sharing your secret with the rest of us?" Ellimere asked, annoyance at being left out tainting her tone. Lirael nodded apologetically, and began to explain.
"When I was in Death, something happened. Something that neither Sabriel or I had ever seen before."
"You mean you found her?" Touchstone asked hopefully, taking a seat on the bed next to Sabriel's body. Lirael nodded as she continued..
"Yes-she says she misses you all." She replied, forcing herself not to look Touchstone directly in the eye-the strange hope and burning need present there were too much for her to bear.
"Please, what happened?" Ellimere asked eagerly.
"All seven bells were rung." Lirael replied. Her words flung the room into an uneasy silence-all present remembered that time so long ago when they themselves did just that.
"The bells that were rung were infused with Free Magic." Lirael continued.
"Necromancers." Sameth concluded fearfully. Lirael nodded, her heart heavy.
"That means there's seven Necromancers, right? Seven bells, seven ringers. But why?" Ellimere inquired.
"I don't know. You don't go ringing all seven bells all together for no reason, though-something is going on." Lirael stated, leaning against a nearby wall.
"What are you planning to do then?" Touchstone inquired.
"I think I'm going to go back to the Abhorsen's House-There should be something there. A book, a record . . .anything.." She replied slowly, thinking as she spoke.
"We'll see you to your Paperwing." Touchstone said stoutly, straightening up and standing. Lirael followed suit, automatically adjusting her bandolier. Sameth stood up reluctantly, and opened the door nearby.
"I'm going to go make preparations for the announcement of Mother's passing." Ellimere said briskly, exiting the room. As Touchstone opened his mouth to say something to his daughter, Lirael shook her head.
"Let her go-she deals better with things when she's in control." She advised, compassion evident in her tone. Without a further word, Lirael herself took leave of the room.
A few moments later, Sameth, Touchstone, and Lirael were standing on an open stone platform-one of the highest points of the Royal Castle. In the center of this platform rested Sabriel's Paperwing, as well as Lirael's-a gift from the Clayr upon her becoming the Abhorsen in Waiting. Lirael climbed in her Paperwing, placing her trusty blade Nehima and her bandolier in the compartment to the side. Of course, it could be argued that her blade wasn't even Nehima. Though it still flashed ever changing messages (The one it currently bore was 'I am what was and what will be. Remember Nehima.'), it was still completely rewrought with the blood of the Great Charters, and the metal of the panpipes that Sameth bore for a time. It was still a blade however, and a good one at that. Placing her left hand upon a pouch at her side, she felt the familiar shape of the Dark Mirror and a small soapstone statue of a dog. Relieved to find them in their place, she smiled softly and waved goodbye to Touchstone and Sameth. Taking a deep breath, she could feel the Charter rising to her call-it was ready for her. With that, she began whistling the Charter Marks that would get the Paperwing flying. As she continued her strange tune, the Paperwing began to rise. Leaning forward, she placed her golden right hand upon the nose of the Paperwing.
"Home." She whispered, her voice filled with the power of the Charter. The Paperwing seemed to understand, and turned to face southwards-towards the Abhorsen's House. After a brief pause, it started its long journey 'home'.
After a day or two of flight, the Paperwing began to descend towards the Earth below. Lirael sighed in relief. It was good to be home, regardless of the sorrowful circumstances that had brought her here. She had been at the Glacier visiting with the Clayr before she had gone to Belisaere. It had been awkward-as a sightless Clayr, the Abhorsen-In-Waiting, and a Remembrancer at the same time, she found it even more difficult to relate to her cousins now than she had as a girl. Receiving a message from Belisaere about Sabriel's death, she had left quickly. And now, here she was-Home. She had lived here at the Abhorsen's House since the binding of the Destroyer. Sabriel certainly had no need of the House-she lived up in the Palace with her own family. And now, she was dead. Lirael cringed at this thought as the Paperwing landed smoothly on the platform designed for it. Arming herself once more with both blade and bells, she climbed out of the Paperwing. There were two Charter sendings waiting there to attend to the Charter-spelled craft.
"Saw me coming, did you?" She asked, watching as the sendings set to work, seemingly making a point of ignoring her. Shrugging, she set off through the rose garden towards the House. As she approached the Well, a strange tingling sensation ran through her. It had long since been closed up again by Sameth. He had forged brand new chains, and built a new lid. Neither spoke much about what had occurred down in that well, and no one really cared to ask. Pushing onwards at a quicker pace, she soon found herself on the North Lawn. Breaking into a jog, she was at the front door of the House within a minute. Opening the door, she stepped in, every part of her relaxing at the familiar sights, sounds, and smells that made up this place. As if on cue, three sendings rushed into the front room from the kitchen. Ushering her up the stairs ahead, they urged her onwards towards the third floor. Once they had arrived, another sending was waiting at her bedroom door. The three sendings that had brought Lirael up took their leave as the single sending waiting at the top of the stairs led her into one of the two bathrooms in the Abhorsen's Bedroom. A warm bath was waiting there, and Lirael had no aversion to stripping down to nothing and hopping in. The sending quickly set to work washing the exhausted Lirael from head to toe.
"I'm assuming diner is ready." Lirael sighed, not protesting as the sending roughly scrubbed at her right arm.
"Of course it is. You should learn to expect no less of the sendings." A familiar, acerbic voice stated. Peering over the side of the tub, Lirael spotted the form of a fluffy white cat wearing a red collar-without any bell.
"Nice to see you too, Mogget." Lirael grinned, splashing a little water at the once servant, now friend of the Abhorsen. Mogget hissed slightly, jumping out of the waters way.
"When I decided to remain with you after the Binding of the Destroyer, I expected better treatment than this, Lirael Goldenhand." At this, Lirael had to laugh. After the Binding, Mogget had decided of his own will to remain at the Abhorsen's house as a friend. Because he chose to do so, he no longer needed binding by any bell-simply a Charter spelled collar to keep him in a particular form-not the strange being of light that he truly was. He still retained his acidic tongue, but was undoubtedly a valuable resource.
"Calm yourself Mogget. I have news." Lirael said, sobering suddenly as she remembered Sabriel.
"Sabriel is dead." Mogget said casually. Lirael regarded the cat incredulously.
"How do you know? And how can you take it so lightly?" She asked, stunned.
"To answer your first question, word travels quickly. And as for your second, I have seen many an Abhorsen die-it is no new thing to me."
Shaking her head, Lirael regarded the cat once again as the Charter sending started to wash her hair.
"I have more news than that, actually. I went into death to see Sabriel's spirit off. I'd found her spirit, and was going to send her off when both of us heard all seven bells, ringing together."
"Really now? Do elaborate." Mogget murmured as Lirael was dunked underwater by the sending in order to rinse her hair. Upon resurfacing, Lirael took a deep breath and continued her story.
"It was kind of like when we bound the Destroyer. It rocked the whole precinct-and I was only in the First. It felt far off, filled with Free Magic."
As the sending continued to wash Lirael's hair, Lirael watched Mogget as he puzzled over this new occurrence.
"It's obvious that something is happening. Has to be the work of necromancers-seven of them." Mogget mulled aloud. Lirael was dunked once more without struggle, and resurfaced quickly. Wiping her eyes, she spoke again.
"I figured all that. I thought there might be something in the library that could help me here."
Mogget looked on, slightly amused as the sending produced a large fluffy towel. Turning away as Lirael stood up and wrapped herself up, he started out the door.
"We'll go take a look after dinner. Get dressed and get down quickly-the food will get cold if you take too long."
Rolling her eyes at the sarcastic feline, Lirael stepped out of the tub, the sulfuric fumes of the hot-spring water teasing her nose.
"Do you have fresh clothes ready for me?" Lirael asked the sending, picking up Nehima, her bandolier, and the small pouch that contained the Dark Mirror and the soapstone statue. The sending nodded in response, pointing towards the bedroom, where another sending was placing a fresh pair of black breeches, clean undergarments, a long-sleeved cotton shirt, and the familiar navy surcoat dusted with sliver keys. Drying herself off as she stepped out of the bathroom, she handed the towel to one of the two sendings present. She was dressed and down in the hall within two minutes. Mogget was already there, waiting impatiently.
"She's here now, you can bring the food," He instructed one of the attending sendings. In response, the sending bowed, and disappeared into the kitchen with a small number of its companions. They returned bearing two separate silver platters. Placing one before Mogget, and one before Lirael, they lifted the lids off of the platters and stood aside. Mogget had been served his traditional fish-today, poached. Lirael had been served a bowl of stew with thick chunks of beef, and a generously sized, fresh baked bun. A small pat of butter was to the side, as well as a spoon. As Mogget dove into his meal enthusiastically, Lirael picked at the stew, which tasted of various vegetables and herbs as well as beef-no rosemary. The meal passed in a thoughtful silence, and was over soon enough. As the sendings cleared the table, Mogget lept out of his place and began to trot out of the room.
"To the reading room then," Mogget chortled as Lirael stood and followed him. While Mogget trotted up the stairs one at a time, Lirael took them two by two, and was already in the reading room before an obviously unamused Mogget arrived.
"Just because you have longer legs. . ." he muttered, hopping up on a plush chair near the bookcases.
"Come off it, Mogget, and help me out." Lirael responded wearily. Mogget sniffed indignantly, glancing towards the bookcases nearby.
"So what is it you're looking for?" Mogget asked. As Lirael took a seat on another chair, she pondered her feline companion's inquiry.
"We don't happen to have any really dark, arcane books, do we? A guide for Necromancers?" Lirael asked, not really expecting an affirmative answer.
"The 47th Abhorsen-Kaylel-dedicated herself to the study of anything like that in order to be better prepared to face necromancers. She had one book of the sort that she valued right up there with The Book of the Dead." Mogget yawned, stretching out.
"The 47th Abhorsen-I've never heard much about her. Why?"
"She was killed as soon as she had trained her Abhorsen-In-Waiting," Mogget said bluntly, hopping out of his chair and strutting towards the bookcases that lined the room. Lirael was taken aback at this news. No wonder she hadn't heard much about this Kaylel-she hadn't been around long enough to do something worthy of remembrance. She sent up a silent prayer to the Charter that her ancestor's spirit was at peace.
"How did she die?" Lirael ventured to ask as Mogget paced to and fro along the bookcases, his tail twitching.
"In the midst of some arcane experimentation, she was slaughtered by a fell spirit she called forth-didn't even have her bells with her."
"Why not?"
"Her bright idea was to call forth a spirit without the aide of her bells. It was a sound experiment theoretically, but stupid in practice. She's the closest thing to a black sheep the Abhorsen line has. Save myself, of course." He snickered, pausing at one shelf in particular.
"Don't flatter yourself." Lirael grinned, joining Mogget near the shelf.
"Here it is." Mogget said, gesturing to a strange purple volume on the bottom shelf. Lirael crouched down to join Mogget, and took a closer look at this particular volume.
Lirael pulled it out, the soft texture of the leather binding pleasing against her fingertips. The title Darker Purposes was emblazoned across the cover in fine gold print. Running her hand across the cover, she looked towards Mogget.
"This should be it. Thanks."
"Don't thank me-thank Kaylel. Just a warning though-careful with that book. There's a reason it bears that name." Mogget advised as he left the room. Lirael sighed as she stood up and returned to her chair. Running her hand across the soft cover once more, she opened the purple volume. A strange wave of Free Magic swept throughout the room, and would have knocked Lirael off her feet if she had not been sitting in the first place. Shuddering, she opened the book to the first page. A fine, spidery scrawl and inscribed a message in the cover:
To Future Abhorsens;
You have my respect for showing an interest in the studies of Free Magic necromancers, and my congratulations for daring to open this book. Many have thought me crazy for supposedly studying the "Arts of the Enemy", but I believe that knowing what we face makes us stronger warriors of the greater good. Perhaps some ill fate is in store for me due to my chosen path-perhaps not. Regardless, it is MY path-perhaps it's yours too. Whatever protection or blessing I can bestow upon you, I do. Charter Keep.
Kaylel
By the time Lirael finished the note, she had developed a whole new image of her ancestor. From what Mogget had told her, she had envisioned a half-mad sorceress, hell-bent on discovering the secrets of the evil necromancers that were the enemy of her bloodline. But now, Lirael wasn't so sure. From what Lirael could tell from reading Kaylel's words, the 47th Abhorsen seemed like a confident woman, not afraid to defy convention-An Abhorsen truly concerned with the advancement of the understanding of what she fought against. What the truth was exactly, Lirael couldn't say. Regardless of what the truth was, Lirael found herself gaining a respect of Kaylel, and was looking forward to reading about her area of study.
Opening the book, she began to read. Kaylel had made little side notes in the margins, defining words or paraphrasing what was written. The book itself was rather dry in tone, and Lirael found herself laughing under her breath at the droll wit that Kaylel injected into her notes. The hours passed by quickly as Lirael read further and further through the book. She soon found herself dozing off, purple volume open in her lap.