"Lirael! Wake up, before this sending gouges your eyes out…"
Lirael woke to the dry sound of Mogget the cat, and the splash of cold water as it hit her face. She sat up, sputtering, but instantly realized the reason for this rude awakening. A sending had dumped a basin of water over her, and was beginning to wash her hair without mercy for the tangles.
"Ow!…I can do that myself, thank you," Lirael protested as the sending yanked at one particularly tangled part of her hair.
"You try that every day," the white cat beside her observed, "and yet it never works. I suggest you give up, or else you'll be unhappy for the rest of your days as Abhorsen."
"I'm not Abhorsen yet," retorted Lirael, grimacing as the sending began to comb her hair viciously. "That's not the way to comb someone's hair," she informed it, miffed.
Mogget yawned but did not answer her. Instead, he leaped down lightly on her bed and informed her casually, "Message-hawk for you. Mind you, you'd better get it, before I start getting a craving for something besides these sendings' horrible fish…"
"Don't you dare," Lirael ordered fiercely.
Mogget sighed. "Seeing as how I am free from all Abhorsens' service, I could easily ignore that demand."
"But you won't," Lirael said smugly, "especially because I can give you more of those tinned sardines. Sam left me a whole box of them."
"What makes you think I haven't eaten them all already?" asked Mogget innocently.
Lirael finally pulled free of the sending's grasp, and tried to dress herself, but the sending wouldn't let her do that either. Resigned, she threw up her hands and turned to face the white cat indignantly.
"You can't! You wouldn't be able to open them!"
"Ah, but you forget," Mogget said sagely. "I have another form."
Lirael remembered the albino dwarf a little too late. "You didn't," she said, aghast. She had gotten that box only yesterday, and it was enormous!
"You're right," the cat said amiably, "I didn't. So therefore, your bribe stands, and I shall not eat the message-hawk, provided I receive some sardines in return. Salmon, too, will be preferable."
"Oh, you," Lirael started, glaring at him in disgust. "I suppose this is revenge? After millennia of serving Abhorsens, now we'll all have to serve you!"
"Mmm, haven't thought of that," said Mogget lightly.
Lirael sighed, and stalked out of the room. She didn't have time for this, and the message-hawk was undoubtedly important. Otherwise Mogget wouldn't have made such a big deal about eating it and all.
The bird was waiting for her patiently in the Reading Room. She strode over to it, and politely asked it to repeat its message. The hawk squawked once before its tiny voice changed, turning into a voice Lirael knew well. It was her nephew, Sam.
Lirael—You must come to Belisaere and the Palace quick! There is great trouble, and we need you to discuss it. We just got word that Clayr's Glacier is melting! Please hurry!
Love,
SamLirael stared at the bird in utter disbelief, half-wanting to ask it to repeat its message. But she knew she wouldn't hear anything new. Yet it shocked her…Clayr's Glacier? Melting?
It wasn't possible. Simply impossible. Lirael, who was half-Clayr, had grown up in Clayr's Glacier, from an infant until she was almost twenty. The Glacier that had once been her home had been intact for hundreds if not thousands of years. How could it plausibly erode?
Even so, if the Glacier was melting, it would take many more years for it to vanish altogether. It was an incredibly massive mountain of ice—no, multiple mountains of ice. The Observatory, the center of the Clayr's Nine Day Watch, was made most importantly from ice.
How could it melt?
"You don't believe it," stated Mogget, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Lirael stared at him before answering.
"It can't be true! The Glacier is too large—too powerful—"
"Funny how all these strange things are happening at once," Mogget cut her off. "I mean, the Destroyer had not been loosed for many millennia, and suddenly…well…and also, a few years later, Clayr's Glacier begins to melt! Unlikely! Against all odds! Utterly inconceiv—"
"You think that the Glacier melting is linked with the release of the Destroyer?" asked Lirael, stunned.
"Orannis?" inquired Mogget innocently, but Lirael shuddered. Even Its name sent chills down her back, and she tried not to think about that fateful day so long ago. "Well," the cat went on, "I won't say anything for certain, but…I mean, I hope it strikes you as an unusual…coincidence…but then again…perhaps I have overestimated your ability to, shall we say…figure things out."
Lirael glowered at the cat for insulting her, but sighed, and realized she was quite used to Mogget's almost playful scorn. It came with the sarcastic personality of the cat. "I'll bring it up when I get to Belisaere," she said to Mogget. "And I'm assuming you're coming to? So you can enlighten us with your incredible skills, so superior to the rest of ours?"
"I suppose you all could deal with some well-rounded advice," sighed Mogget, leaping down. "Well, shall we go? Thankfully, Sabriel isn't traveling around dealing with Dead here and there, and the Paperwing is at our disposal. But then again, I don't suppose you've ever traveled in a Paperwing?"
"I've…" Lirael began, about to tell of her experiences with the aircrafts on Clayr's Glacier. Suddenly, the memories at her old home seemed very important to her now, even the ones with the lectures from Aunt Kirrith—for what if Clayr's Glacier was suddenly gone?
Shaking her head to clear it from such ludicrous thoughts, she answered Mogget. "I've seen countless of them being flown, but never have myself."
"Ah well," the cat sighed. "Abhorsen's House was under siege when Sabriel first set eyes on a Paperwing, and she was able to fly it reasonably well enough—for a first-timer, mind you. Of course, we were attacked by Gore Crows along the way…so, I suggest you hope such an experience does not repeat itself for you. Come along, Lirael—the Paperwing will not fly itself!"