Please review!!!!!!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters (they belong to Garth Nix) except for the ones I invent, which would be maybe Sanar except not her name.
Ancelstierre
Thirty-ninth year of the restoration of King Touchstone I
Dear Mother,
Your last letter arrived with deep sorrow. I am sorry that Aunt Sabriel has gone missing, but feared dead? I think, or at least hope, that is not the case. She is a woman of infinite resource, like yourself, and will find her way out of whatever predicament she may be in. She did, after all, defeat Kerrigor, Chlorr, and Orannis! Well, perhaps it was more you who defeated Orannis, but she helped big time. Will they instate you as Abhorsen soon? That means they think Sabriel is dead. I wonder if they will also instate Ellimere as Queen? She obviously has the skill for it. You have not told me much of Sam lately. How is he? If you can, will you at least invite me to the Old Kingdom soon? You always come here, and I have not been to Belisaere or anywhere else since I was six! I cannot remember anything very clearly. Please, Mother? Well, I think that's all I have to say for now.
Love,
Sanar
P.S. Last night I had a funny dream. I saw myself in a weird sort of hall, and I was all in white and had something on my head. In normal circumstances, I wouldn't bother you with this, but it felt so real, and you say dreams are a portal to Death, so I figured I should tell you. It wasn't just a normal dream. Does it mean something?
P.P.S. You never told me what I'm named for. All the other girls have never heard of calling someone Sanar. They say it sounds weird (I have learned that, in Ancelstierre, supposedly naming a girl a name ending in the letter "r" is something that is never done. They think it sounds funny). It's not that I'm really bothered by it. I was just wondering.
Sanar reread what she had written. It sounded good enough, at least for a twelve-year-old girl. Since she only got letters from her mother, Lirael, at infrequent times (sometimes once a month, other times once a year), there was a good excuse that it was just a jumble of thoughts. Neither Sanar nor Lirael had ever been very good letter-writers, so Lirael made sure that she visited at least three times a year. But now, since Sabriel's disappearance, Sanar was getting fewer letters than ever before. She supposed it was natural, being the Abhorsen—Abhorsen-in-Waiting, she corrected mentally. Lirael was the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, until the current Abhorsen, Sabriel, died, and Sanar drilled into her mind the words Sabriel is not dead. Only missing. According to Lirael's last letter, Sabriel had left month ago, saying only that she was going to Callibe to face a stubborn Mordaut. Sanar knew that Mordauts were easy to banish, although never having done it herself, and that Sabriel would not go elsewhere without telling anyone. No one in Callibe had seen her since she'd arrived, and reportedly no one had seen her return. She shivered at the idea. Sanar broke out of her thought cycle and sealed the letter with red hot wax, marked with a "W" for "Wyverly". Wyverly College was where Sanar attended, a third-generation Wyverlite. Her aunt Sabriel had gone there, and after that Sanar's cousin Ellimere, although Ellimere was more the age of Lirael than Sanar (thirty-eight). Lirael herself had lived in the Glacier of the Clayr until she was nineteen, believing herself to be one, until she found out that she was the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, and the Remembrancer. Sanar would inherit the bells of the Abhorsen when Lirael and Sabriel had both perished. She supposed that she was now the Abhorsen-in-Waiting-in-Waiting, because if both Sabriel and Lirael led long lives, Sanar might not get to be the Abhorsen until she was forty. Sabriel was nearly sixty, in any case. Lirael was almost forty and had not become the Abhorsen yet, but was the Remembrancer. A few more years and she might never become an Abhorsen. If that happened, what would become of Sanar? Would she finish school and then just become—a royal attendant or something? Perhaps a Royal Guard, like Touchstone had been, or one of the "daughters". But she was not either of those. She was an Abhorsen—twice in waiting. Two Abhorsens would have to die before she would get her turn to bind the Dead. Sanar blotted the tick, handmade paper with ink that had the solidity of blood, although it was black. She pranced out of her dormitory. "Sula!" she cried. "Sula!" A tall, golden-topped girl emerged from a room, hair sharply contrasting with Sanar's dark locks. Sula could have been a Clayr, from Lirael's descriptions of them: blonde, tan-skinned, and beautiful. The "Fourth Form" badge on her chest showed that she was maybe fourteen of fifteen. She was wearing her school uniform, a Junior Prefect badge, her school badge, and a Junior Postal Clerk badge. "Sula," said Sanar. "I need you to give this to Mrs. Lydsin. It's a letter for the Old Kingdom." Sula scoffed. "Who's a Second Form writing to in the Old Kingdom? It doesn't exist, silly. And even if it did exist, who'd a Second Form be writing to anyways?"
"My mother," said Sanar, teeth clenched. "She lives in Belisaere."
"Belly-what?" asked Sula. "I suppose you think you know the Royal family, too?"
"I do," said Sanar quietly. "And the Abhorsen."
"Everybody knows that the Old Kingdom's just a joke, told to little kids to scare them. I suppose you still believe it."
"It's not a fairy tale," growled Sanar, anger rising inside of her. "I can show you, if you want. It's just across the Wall."
"There's nothing across the Wall. I suppose you think you have a family, too?" Sanar's eyes filled with tears as she snatched the letter away from Sula. "I'll deliver it myself!" she cried, and ran off. Sula was known to be mean to the younger girls. Everyone knew there was an Old Kingdom, but some refused to believe it, including Sula. Sanar raced to the College Postal Office and nearly ran into Mrs. Lydsin, the Supervisor of the Junior Postal Clerks. "Sanar," she said, smiling warmly. "What a pleasant surprise. What can I help you with?"
"I need you to mail this letter. It's to my mother." She handed the letter to Mrs. Lydsin, and the older woman began to chuckle. "Why, Sanar," she said, helpless to a fit a laughing. "There's no address on here." Sanar swore, causing Mrs. Lydsin to say, "Sanar!" Sanar turned bright red and asked for a bottle of handmade ink. "I won't put you in extra chores for your little slip o' the tongue this time, Sanar, but if it happens again you will have a month's worth of extra kitchen duties. Now, come over here," said Mrs. Lydsin, beckoning Sanar to her desk. "This is where I keep my personal supplies," she explained. "I always keep materials for letters to the Old Kingdom. Here's the ink, and a quill pen." Sanar hastily scratched on the envelope. It read:
Remembrancer Lirael
Royal Palace
Belisaere
Old Kingdom
"Now you'll need to give me the postal fee," said Mrs. Lydsin. Sanar pulled a silver denier out of her pocket. "There," she said. "Take the money and mail my letter. And make sure it goes fast." Mrs. Lydsin nodded, and Sanar sped off, passing countless rows of girls sorting the mail, all with a "Junior Postal Clerk" badge on their uniforms.
* * *
…It's not that I'm really bothered by it. I was just wondering.
Lirael put down her daughter's letter in astonishment. Most of the letter had been questions, feeling, or hopeful statements. It was the first postscript that had drawn Lirael's attention.
"Last night I had a funny dream," Lirael read aloud. "I saw myself in a weird sort of hall, and I was all in white and had something on my head. In normal circumstances, I wouldn't bother you with this, but it felt so real, and you say dreams are a portal to Death, so I figured I should tell you. It wasn't just a normal dream. Does it mean something?" Lirael was troubled, for she was positive she knew what it meant, but it couldn't be. What did Sanar's innocent postscript remind her of? She barely even had to think to recall the torture she had endured all through her teenage years, in the Glacier of the Clayr. A small figure, clad all in white, with the crown of moonstones on her head, walking down the hall to join countless ranks of Clayr. But Sanar was supposed to be the Abhorsen, she reminded herself, casting her mind back to the talk she had engaged in seven years ago with Touchstone and Sabriel. Sabriel would have known what to do now, but all hope on her had failed. Touchstone was trying to run the country while grieving for his wife, but had been suffering from stress terribly in the past few weeks. Ellimere would take the throne soon, but she was out touring (Touchstone's way of saying that she was finding suitors). Lirael needed someone's help: Sabriel was dead, Touchstone sick, and Ellimere unavailable. Lirael hadn't seen Sam in years, and he was dead to peasant's ears, except for the fact that he had told his relatives that he was going to Estwael to try and find more Wallmaker relicts. Lirael knew he was alive, because he occasionally sent letters, and she just sensed it in her mind. But whom was she going to talk with, then? An idea sprung into her mind. She would talk with Sanar—the first one.