A/N: Hey, you guys have expressed your thoughts so far and for that I am very, very grateful...

Caet Rae: After reading your review I went back to the last chapter and I sort –of see what you mean, but just to clarify: What I meant in saying "slowly, carefully, quietly" was more than what they were doing, it was Lirael's experience of being swept away by some unknown force, she is suddenly breath taken and far from her body, far from everything...I hope that kind of made sense to you...

The cat licked his lips and hesitated at the cusp of the ninth precinct. It had taken him a while. He felt flat, exhausted, and a little hesitant about passing through to look up into the starry galaxy sky that shone with the light of a million spirits. He sniffed, and through the smell of hundreds that had passed this way in months, Touchstone's scent was still potent among them.

The cat yawned, stretched and gave a warning look to the swirling current that had subsided to trickling around his white paws. One impatient yowl parted the last gate, and daintily, the cat slipped through the partition that everyone at sometime went through in their lifetime, and very few went back.

The water was warm this side, and the cat, never one for any kind of water, plunged in to lounge elegantly around I the swirling light reflected by millions of stars.

Gingerly, the cat opened one eye to the stars and felt his small body lifted carefully, tested, and then layed back to the water where he floated lazily, one green eye watching disappearing spirits.

He glanced to his left and saw a young girl raise her eyes to the stars. This young one's time had come, and she left behind the warm water with gentle understanding, lifting her chubby arms upward to embrace her final death.

The cat yawned, thinking that perhaps he could sleep here forever...

'Hello, Mogget.'

The cat opened another eye, and saw a large black-and-tan dog, unnaturally long legs wading through the water toward him, sharp ears pricked.

'Oh its you.' Mogget said lazily, closing the eye he had opened and letting his body drift a little more.

A long paw was careful to flick water in his face, and he hissed irritated and sat up. The movement was fluid and quick, changing the little cat into a small dwarf, who stared up at the dog with piercing emerald eyes.

'Well, if it isn't the Disreputable Dog. What a little saint you've been down here recently. I hear you've been helping confused spirits back to life...and sending some on. Aren't you the walker, Dog? Isn't it your duty to send them all on?'

'It was a mistake to free you with Belgaer,' The Dog grumbled, sniffing the cat gingerly. 'You've obviously been thinking too much. It seems you're even doing favours for humans these days.'

'I do not.' Yrael remarked mewlishly, 'Unless it will overcome my debt to Mistress Sabriel.'

'There was no debt,' Dog commented. 'You're just gentler. I shall have to dress you in boots and call you puss.'

'Not by the dressed up buttocks of Kerrigor.' Yrael smiled mistily.

The Dog gave a friendly bark, and their verbal abuse subsided.

'What of her, Mogget?' The Dog asked, as Yrael shrank back to his cat form, with legs longer even than hers.

'Mistress Lirael is troubled.' The cat mewed, 'She wishes to speak with you again.'

'As much as I wish to speak to her.' The Dog nodded mournfully.

Mogget spat to rid the air of sorrow. 'To business, Kibeth.' He growled. 'Sabriel is the last Abhorsen, as her father foretold. You will see your mistress one last time. But you must follow the orders of... of her.'

'And what of Sabriel, Mogget?' A new voice had joined them, and Mogget looked up from the corner of his eye.

'I thought I'd seen the last of you.' He murmured, and then purred as the big, strong hand reached out to stroke his chin.

'You're wife is nothing without you, as ever she would have been, Master Touchstone – Torrigan, even. I seem to recall asking the wallmaker for something, and he said you would bring it to me. Do you have yet of what I speak? Great evil gathers as your daughter is cornated, and only her aunt suspects. Will you help Lirael, Torrigan? Will you do it for Sabriel?'

Touchstone threw back the cloak that covered most of his body and Mogget and Kibeth beheld what was in his hand.

Kibeth blinked her brown eyes and whispered. 'Then it is time. We will linger no longer at the ninth precinct. On, and up.' She nodded to the stars and Touchstone nodded, gazing wistfully at the constellation above him, the lights twinkling in his sad eyes.

'Only when I am with her may I go up.'

'As it is for me.' The Dog whispered.

Lirael remembered the day as she woke with a start, the sheet softly falling away from her naked body. The she clutched them around her, shaking, a cold sweat hung around her, and the feeling she had been trying to shake for days closed in like a pack of voracious wolves. Today, above all days would test her. Today, something would happen that would change her life forever, and she knew it.

But aside from every part of that, last night had changed her too. She had let someone come closer to her than any had ever been before, and the thought brought tears to her eyes, made her hands shake and her breath quiver.

She wept, her body shaking uncontrollably, tears escaping her eyes without conscious thought.

She wiped them away fiercely, and felt them return, until she buried her face in her hands, sobbing and crying. She felt retched. Wrong. Last night had been so perfect. Why, today did everything have to change so inexplicably?

The man that lay next to her drew her into him, shushing her, stroking her hair, allowing her to cry herself away. Lirael looked through blurry eyes to see Nick's face, swimming with sympathy.

'Lirael,' he whispered, 'Shh, come on, what's wrong? I'm sorry I shouldn't have... I was.'

'Yes you should!' Lirael cried, fighting her urge to cry. 'We did it together! It was us! Me! You!'

'I'm sorry,' Nick whispered into her ear, wrapping his arms around her.

'So, so sorry.'

'Don't be.' She growled, knowing that she had changed. She was someone else entirely to who she had been yesterday. Yesterday she had been Lirael, who was the confused and scared sister of the Abhorsen. Today she was Lirael, the young woman who loved Nick, and was loved by Nick, and here she was crying and fearing something that wasn't there.

'Please Lirael, tell me what's wrong.' Nick said gently, pulling her hair from her face with careful hands. All he wanted was for her to be happy, and he knew it now, more than ever. Nick felt changed too. But confused. He loved her so much.

'I don't know.' Lirael murmured, gulping back a fresh start of tears. 'I just feel so different.'

'I know.' Nick lulled. 'So do I. But we won't again if you don't want it. I won't ever come near you if you don't want me to. I'd kill myself if you wish it, you only have to say.'

Lirael burst into tears again. 'I know you would.' She mumbled, sliding her arms around his neck. 'That's what makes it so awful. I don't want you away. I do want it again. I do love you.'

Her tears suddenly were gone and she drew away, her eyes red and raw and he looked at her carefully.

'I do.' Lirael whispered. 'But I'm not sure... I might need to be left alone, Nick. Something horrible is about to happen. And I don't know why or how. But it's coming. It will be on us sometime today. And I'm so afraid. What if it's Sabriel this time? What if its Sameth or Ellie? What if it's you?'

Nick was silent for a moment. 'I can't promise that it won't be.' He said quietly. 'But I love you too. There's no escaping that now, Lirael. No way out. I believe you. I'll do whatever it takes to break evil away.'

He prodded his charter mark. 'I've seen some strange things, as you have. And I still don't really understand what it is to be art of the great charter. Half a year ago, I was still ignorant of... well...everything. But I'm here. And I'll help you.'

He looked at her earnestly and Lirael managed a watery smile.

'Nick... thank you.'

'Nothing to thank.' Nick whispered and kissed her softly on the forehead. It felt strange not to go red under his lips, but that would have been yesterday... not the Lirael of the present.

She took a deep, steadying breath. 'I need you to get Sam. Don't ask questions just yet, I need to get this... the coronation has to be cancelled.

Nick's eyes widened. His stomach dropped.

'What is it?' Lirael asked.

Nick nodded to the enormous sundial out I the courtyard. It was just visible from Lirael's bed, but it was plain what the time was.

'The coronation- it starts in ten minutes!'

Lirael's stomach plummeted. 'No!' she cried, 'It can't be more than nine in the morning!'

Nick got up quickly, shoving his legs into his corduroy trousers and slipped his evening tunic he had worn last night over his head. He fastened the belt hastily and shoved his feet into sandals.

'Well, if you don't hurry, its going to happen soon anyway. Listen, I'll get Sam... you just do... Just do what you have to.'

Lirael looked at him, her eyes full of fear. She had already wrestled on the under-garments she wore before layering herself with full-armour. Quickly, fumblingly they kissed, and Nick turned to the door to wrestle hard with the handle.

'What is it?' Lirael whispered, dreading his answer.

'Bloody thing's locked!' Nick swore loudly, and yanked harder on the metal.

'Cronwell...'

Lirael's mind flashed to the previous night and how Cronwell had been flirting with one of the waitresses serving drinks at the ball – would he have had time to drug the drinks with sleeping powder?

No time for suspicions. She would have to get out, and soon. Gently, she pushed Nick aside and pressed her golden hand to the door. She drew it away as Charter Mark's sizzled, and a flurry of sparks blinded her.

She shielded her eyes and yelled, 'Harlem! Tarnet! Hoaret!'

The sizzling stopped, the sparks subsided. Lirael watched as the wood that made up the door crumbled and turned to ash, simply falling away under her fingers.

To looked at Nick fiercely, 'Go!' she growled, 'Just go!'

He nodded and turned, running away down the corridor. As he ran, Lirael could only whisper, 'Charter be with you.'

In less than three minutes Lirael had finished dressing, pulling her long dark hair up and out of the way, confining it to a length of silver cord. She briefly checked each bell, muttering their names under her breath, before she unsheathed her sword, newly shone and charter marks freshly drawn into the blade by Sameth. It was almost as good as the original: The blade claimed with Lirael's hand with the destruction of Orannis. Withdrawn, it looked deadly sharp.

Muttering charter marks for protection, health, stamina and luck, Lirael ran from the room, praying she could she could stop whatever was coming...

The great hall looked magnificent, a throne set above the rest of the seats to welcome the Old Kingdom's new queen. The hall was buzzing with excited voices, their tones relaxed. Across the West of the hall stood an oak table, set with a gold-trimmed red cloth and laid for five. Sabriel sat alone twisting her fingers in her lap. Her bell bandoleer strung across her chest looked old and worn, and Lirael wondered if her sister was nervous and where on earth Sameth was – still making fineries for the ball afterward?

Slowly she made to slip into the hall to sit by her sister and warn her... of what?

Lirael stopped dead. What was she going to tell her sister? She had a feeling that something bad was about to happen? What, in the name of the charter would she think of Lirael then? Lirael hung there, unsure of what to do... until a cold, hard hand wrenched her back out of the hall and pulled her into a smaller room to the side. She spun, sword raised, and found another sword whinging back to return her cutting strikes. Lirael blocked them muttering, 'Flareo!'

Her opponent fell back and Lirael was able to look at him properly. She knew in an instant who it was by the tall, masculine frame, the cocky stance and by the way she felt uncomfortable under his stare – even though she would not see his face for the long hood.

'I am sorry about this,' Cronwell murmured, 'I would have so loved for all my fine work to be rinsed down the plughole, but you see, days like this don't often happen.'

'You know something's going to happen.' Lirael said simply.

'My master was pleased with how everything went – even though it was obvious you suspected me – you couldn't really do anything about it, no? It is a shame to lose two Abhorsens in one day though. Perhaps you could stay...'

Their blades locked and both pressed down, trying to force each other to their knees.

'But I could set us out something else, Lirael, my dear. What if I...we got away? We could live with love and prosperity. Imagine, Lirael, a world controlled by dead. Our slaves! Of course, my master would be happy to take you under his wing.'

Lirael swung out of the blade-to-blade, swinging her sword up and left, snaking through his outstretched arm... he moved his chin aside at the last minute and her blade sliced his cheek, but did not sink up into his brain as she had aimed.

She pulled out, and began to circle, her eyes watching for his flaws. She was not prepared for his next attack. He somersaulted, landing on her chest, and knocking the wind hard out of her. She wheezed, grunted and lunged. Her fist connected his jaw and he came off her, flying backward.

His face contorted, and he suddenly yelled and incantation: one that sizzled at he spoke the words: sizzling so forcefully smoke emanated from his lips and nostrils. Free Magic floated off his tongue and flew at her, hitting her square in the face.

Lirael screamed as she felt something- some terrible perversion spirit enter her head through her charter mark – so the mark flared and made her reel as it burned her. Something was wriggling, forcing its way into the stream of her magics, trying to corrupt... to claim... to force back the charter magic in her veins. She fought it, screaming a guttural cry that vacated her lungs of any oxygen at all. She screamed again – but there was no air to feed the sound. She gagged, spat and choked, until her weakened mind began to spin.

OUT Lirael demanded, holding onto herself long enough to push out the Free-Magic spirit, out she pushed, and her world still whirling, Lirael saw the first gate...

NO! she cried, no. No.

Her eyes opened, she inhaled.

Cronwell stood over her. 'I could make you happy.'

She allowed herself breath after luscious breath, - so she was literally breathing life back into her body.

'And I will rule?' She whispered.

'Yes.'

'We will... love?'

'Each other, yes. You as my wife. You to bear my children.'

'Yes...'

Gently, he reached down and took hold of her soft, pale hand, carefully; he pulled her to her feet.

'Us. Together. Put behind you the Abhorsen. Be with me.'

Lirael took a deep breath, her fingers suddenly inches away from her dagger.

Slowly she withdrew.

'Oh Cronwell, I just... I'

She lunged, he dodged and pirouetted out the way, coming to land four-legged on the floor. He grabbed her sword raised it above his head and ran forward yelling, 'You will be with me!'

Lirael rolled, and he tripped as she plunged through his legs. She leaped up in time to rake the dagger down his back and his scream was muffled as he fell. Lirael leaped and drew the dagger across his neck.

'Mistress Lirael.'

Lirael turned, her eyes full of rage.

'I see you have killed my servant. Well done. You can rest now Abhorsen. You're task is over. Time to end this silly battle at last.'