A/N: Sorry for the long long wait, I kind of... well I really did forget that I put this up. Eep! Anyway, there'll probably be two chapters today, just to make up for it...
"Me?" Lirael looked, disbelievingly, from one face to another. "What do you mean? Why can't Sabriel do it? She's... Abhorsen."
"Yes," said Ryelle, "and that post carries many responsibilities. The binding and breaking of the Destroyer did not mean the end of the Dead; if anything, they are now more dangerous without a leader. They attack towns in groups, singly, attacking hunting parties—" Ryelle stopped and sighed in unison with Sanar.
Lirael suddenly saw the silver in their golden hair, the faint lines etched around their eyes. She looked down at the floor quickly. "All right," she said, unwillingly.
Looking at the floor, Lirael didn't see the brief smiles that Sanar and Ryelle exchanged.
Two hours later, Lirael and Nick sat facing each other in blue armchairs. Lirael had been persuaded to take a swift bath; the twins had insisted she switch her usual red library waistcoat for her surcoat, the stars of the Clayr quartered with the silver keys of the Abhorsen. They had also convinced her not to leave her right hand, the golden one, in her pocket.
Nick and Lirael had exchanged polite greetings; now there was thick silence hanging over the room. Lirael was staring steadfastly at the floor, wondering why she had to be the one to talk to him; Nick was glancing uncomfortably around the room.
"Did you come from Belisaere?" Lirael asked suddenly, looking up.
"What?" Nick came out of his reverie, startled. "Oh, yes. In fact, Sabriel and Sam sent letters..." He fumbled in his pockets and came up with two letters, both creased a few times and wrinkled, but readable. Nick held them out to Lirael, who reached out to take them, unthinkingly, with her right hand.
He gaped at it as she took the letters and slid them into her own pocket for reading later. "Your—your hand, it's..."
Lirael glanced at her hand, then at Nick, and sighed. "Gold. I know. Sam made it for me, after... last year."
"Oh." Nick didn't ask for a more elaborate answer. "Is it... can you use it?" he asked.
Lirael nodded. "It's just like my hand, only gold. It... disturbs the Clayr, sometimes." She tucked it in her pocket. "How long will you be staying?"
"A week, maybe." Nick looked around the room again. It was one of the receiving-rooms of the Clayr, for those who came to ask the Clayr to See their future. "Is it all like this?"
"No," Lirael said, smiling. "I can show you around, if you'd like."
Nick smiled back. "I'd like that."
They spent several hours that day touring the Clayr's Glacier; for most of the next two days, Lirael showed him the Great Library. Nick trailed after her, taking in the information raptly. In the evenings Lirael taught him Charter Magic, at his request; his baptismal Charter Mark gave him the ability to learn it, but he did not know much yet. Sanar and Ryelle spent some of these times with them, giving advice to Lirael on teaching and to Nick on methods.
The week passed quickly; on the last day, Sanar, Ryelle, Lirael and Nick met in the same room Nick had arrived in.
"Will you be leaving tomorrow?" Sanar asked.
"Yes," Nick said.
At a meaningful glance from Sanar and Ryelle, Nick's eyes turned to Lirael as she said, "I'd like to see Sam again, and Sabriel, and Ellimere. And Touchstone—I mean Torrigan," she corrected herself.
"Really? Sam'll be pleased, he's always moaning about having only Ellimere and a cityful of giggling girls to talk to," Nick said, grinning.
Lirael smiled. "Yes," she said.
"Then that's settled," Ryelle said, smiling. She and Sanar stood. "You will have to travel the land; Finder cannot take you to Belisaere, I am afraid. We will leave now, and let you pack." They swept out of the room, respledent in white robes with moonstone and silver circlets.
Lirael stood up. "Well... I guess we'll meet back here tomorrow morning?" she asked.
Nick nodded agreement, and Lirael left the room. He stared after her for a little while, then left the room himself to pack what was left of his things.
"Me?" Lirael looked, disbelievingly, from one face to another. "What do you mean? Why can't Sabriel do it? She's... Abhorsen."
"Yes," said Ryelle, "and that post carries many responsibilities. The binding and breaking of the Destroyer did not mean the end of the Dead; if anything, they are now more dangerous without a leader. They attack towns in groups, singly, attacking hunting parties—" Ryelle stopped and sighed in unison with Sanar.
Lirael suddenly saw the silver in their golden hair, the faint lines etched around their eyes. She looked down at the floor quickly. "All right," she said, unwillingly.
Looking at the floor, Lirael didn't see the brief smiles that Sanar and Ryelle exchanged.
Two hours later, Lirael and Nick sat facing each other in blue armchairs. Lirael had been persuaded to take a swift bath; the twins had insisted she switch her usual red library waistcoat for her surcoat, the stars of the Clayr quartered with the silver keys of the Abhorsen. They had also convinced her not to leave her right hand, the golden one, in her pocket.
Nick and Lirael had exchanged polite greetings; now there was thick silence hanging over the room. Lirael was staring steadfastly at the floor, wondering why she had to be the one to talk to him; Nick was glancing uncomfortably around the room.
"Did you come from Belisaere?" Lirael asked suddenly, looking up.
"What?" Nick came out of his reverie, startled. "Oh, yes. In fact, Sabriel and Sam sent letters..." He fumbled in his pockets and came up with two letters, both creased a few times and wrinkled, but readable. Nick held them out to Lirael, who reached out to take them, unthinkingly, with her right hand.
He gaped at it as she took the letters and slid them into her own pocket for reading later. "Your—your hand, it's..."
Lirael glanced at her hand, then at Nick, and sighed. "Gold. I know. Sam made it for me, after... last year."
"Oh." Nick didn't ask for a more elaborate answer. "Is it... can you use it?" he asked.
Lirael nodded. "It's just like my hand, only gold. It... disturbs the Clayr, sometimes." She tucked it in her pocket. "How long will you be staying?"
"A week, maybe." Nick looked around the room again. It was one of the receiving-rooms of the Clayr, for those who came to ask the Clayr to See their future. "Is it all like this?"
"No," Lirael said, smiling. "I can show you around, if you'd like."
Nick smiled back. "I'd like that."
They spent several hours that day touring the Clayr's Glacier; for most of the next two days, Lirael showed him the Great Library. Nick trailed after her, taking in the information raptly. In the evenings Lirael taught him Charter Magic, at his request; his baptismal Charter Mark gave him the ability to learn it, but he did not know much yet. Sanar and Ryelle spent some of these times with them, giving advice to Lirael on teaching and to Nick on methods.
The week passed quickly; on the last day, Sanar, Ryelle, Lirael and Nick met in the same room Nick had arrived in.
"Will you be leaving tomorrow?" Sanar asked.
"Yes," Nick said.
At a meaningful glance from Sanar and Ryelle, Nick's eyes turned to Lirael as she said, "I'd like to see Sam again, and Sabriel, and Ellimere. And Touchstone—I mean Torrigan," she corrected herself.
"Really? Sam'll be pleased, he's always moaning about having only Ellimere and a cityful of giggling girls to talk to," Nick said, grinning.
Lirael smiled. "Yes," she said.
"Then that's settled," Ryelle said, smiling. She and Sanar stood. "You will have to travel the land; Finder cannot take you to Belisaere, I am afraid. We will leave now, and let you pack." They swept out of the room, respledent in white robes with moonstone and silver circlets.
Lirael stood up. "Well... I guess we'll meet back here tomorrow morning?" she asked.
Nick nodded agreement, and Lirael left the room. He stared after her for a little while, then left the room himself to pack what was left of his things.