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This begins after Abhorsen, after Lirael and the other seven defeat Orannis.

Please do not use any part of text without explicit permission from author or original author Garth Nix, be it ideology, plot, character, objects, places, aspects, powers, possessions, events, themes, bloodlines, concepts, etcetera.

Delaying Action

Lirael glanced over her shoulder surreptitiously, as if fearful of a sudden assault by the stout necromancer. He could easily come out of Death any time, and she had avoided him for fear of tripping any alarms or safeguards he might have set. It had always been so straightforward with the Dog. With the recent attack on Roble's Town, she wouldn't be too surprised if she was attacked, here at Long Cliffs. It was for safety as much as for calming herself that she cast a diamond of protection, the cardinal marks flowing easily from her new sword. It had no name, but the inscription ran, "I was made to be fueled by the powers of the past, wielded by the powers of the present, to protect the powers of the future". Made by Sameth, her very helpful nephew, it was a rare blade and had its own particular quality to it, like the original sister-swords Binder and Nehima, and Abhorsen's sword, and the two swords of the King.

The inscription on her sword – Thyme, as she called it – was not so much written by Sam as it was by Lirael. At the time, she had been "possessed" by her particular Sight, and those exact words had rolled off her tongue. Later, she did not recall anything, but her companions at the time – her half-sister, Sabriel, her brother-in-law and King, Touchstone, her nephew, Sam, and her niece, Ellimere, all concurred that it was so. Words especially fitting for her post – Abhorsen and Remembrancer – she noted with a wry grin.

Her body abruptly stiffened, and an icicle coalesced on her wrists. It seemed a foul, cold wind of Death had wrapped her entire body, for her body was still as Death. Yet she was not dead – her heart still beat strongly, and her mind continued to function elsewhere.

Lirael drew Saraneth, the sixth bell, cautiously with her hand, not wanting to startle and inform any denizens of Death of her presence. She was not so much worried about sounding Saraneth, for Saraneth was familiar to her touch, and it was loyal to her, the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, for the inherent Free Magic in the bell was tampered by the Charter which bore a mark on the bell and recognized her for her bloodlines, descendant from two of the Great Charters.

With a practiced hand, she held Saraneth still and drew Thyme with her right hand. She stalked forward warily, eyeing her surroundings. She knew better than to rely on the Dog, for the Dog was gone, even though the bittersweet memories and the pain of that loss still bore deeply in her. Then she saw the dumpy necromancer's spirit, who was ringing Saraneth, forcing the Dead spirits forward. Lirael smiled grimly – she would have something tangible to take the sadness of her loss out on. She sheathed her sword and drew Belgaer, a bell she rarely used, then rang both in a swift motion.

The sounds reached out to the somewhat short necromancer and wrapped him tightly. As she had intended, there was an initial strong resistance that ebbed quickly, as Belgaer removed the powers of free thinking from the necromancer. He was now a puppet, a monstrous puppet, no more. She replaced Belgaer and drew Dyrim, then rang Dyrim, even as Saraneth continued tolling. Dyrim had a musical voice which playfully brushed against the necromancer, and he spoke.

"Answer me. What is your name and who do you serve?"

"Kanneth. I serve my master, Tsar Koch Helmfro."

"Of what nature is your master, Kanneth, and how powerful is he?"

"He is a powerful Free Magic adept… and a necromancer, an ancient but powerful one. He wields great power, and goes by many names."

"Are there any other details about him which you know of?"

"Yes. He has a great sword when to which Dark magic is properly applied will extrude flames. He can metamorphose. He has command of two Hish."

"Explain his purpose." Lirael was slightly more intrigued by now.

"I know none."

"Very well." Lirael briefly considered holding Kanneth a hostage, but decided against it. She stowed Belgaer, and as the necromancer started to shake off his befuddled state she drew Kibeth, flipped it and rung it in conjunction with Saraneth, all in one quick motion.

"You shall walk to the Ninth gate, and you shall not let any bar your path. Walk swiftly and die a true death. But before that, pass me your bells."

The squat necromancer appeared to have regained all his mental faculties as he passed his bell bandolier on the ground. He snarled, but could not resist the compulsion and Lirael's will, and walked. He appeared to want to say something, but decided against it even as his feet walked, and his face was screwed in hatred as he stared at Lirael.

Lirael sighed. This was already the third necromancer in that week alone, which was unusually bad luck. She replaced both bells and drew Thyme, then cast charter symbols for flame, cleansing, peace, unraveling, and light, and bound them with a master mark before sending the completed spell to the bells. They shone brilliantly before falling apart as charred pieces of broken metal.

Lirael had learnt this particular lesson the hard way – the last two necromancers' bells had been spirited away by an unknown entity as Lirael scoured Death. She had commanded the necromancers to leave their bells, but had left them unguarded and they were pilfered, likely by lesser necromancers. However, every less set of corrupted bells would mean less Dead, and she intended to keep it that way.

She had not asked about the necromancer himself, for she had already questioned the other two at length and had no intention of staying too long in Death. The other two had not yielded extra details, save that they were forced to servitude through either their secret names, or bound by a Free Magic spell, or were recruited, and were under a master called Tsar Koch Helmfro. As far as she knew, Helmfro was a necromancer who had considerable powers but never appeared during the day, and could not work most spells of Free Magic concerning the bells. He did appear to carry bells, but did not appear to use them, instead exploiting his servants' necromantic powers. However, that alone was enough for Helmfro, for he was apparently an adept at Free Magic, and could work the weather. He could apparently metamorphose as well, turning into another creature at whim. None of his servants had seemed quite sure of exactly who he was, save a Free Magic adept. They were not even particularly sure of whether he was a necromancer.

'Tsar', as far as Lirael could discern, was an ancient term describing a noble who was practically as powerful as the King. Perhaps the so-called 'Tsar' was no more than a competitor for the throne, organizing a coup. Certainly all the necromancers had been undermining the King's authority, by splitting Charter stones and attacking towns. The first attack came on Callibe, from the Great Sickle Wood – Sabriel had been with her then, and had protected the town whilst Lirael went hunting for the necromancer in Death. The second assault was on Nestowe, again from the nearby woods, and before Lirael could arrive on the scene (Sabriel was in Clayr's Glacier delving through the Great Library) the Charter Stone was broken. Lirael mended it herself, however; she had learnt the art from Touchstone and the marks from Sam.

Now this attack on Roble's Town was the latest installment. She had tracked the Dead to the Long Cliffs, and had found a pile of corpses and a single necromancer. She shook her head, and slowly headed back to Roble's Town, where she had left her Paperwing. She had a feeling she would not want to know who was behind the attacks, and why.

Meanwhile, the Master was excited again, for he sensed that his turn to join the action was approaching. He would be able to reap lives and gain more power, the thing he truly lusted for.

"Lumefth, you and Balthos are to commence your assault on Ganel and Uppside. Ensure that you survive, and ensure that Goldenhand is too taken up with you. Balthos, remember the spell I taught you. Remember how you may avenge Valkos."

Both necromancers bowed, and left the Master.

A slight smirk splashed on his face.

Yes, the last part is a decree from the Master, the Tsar, Koch Helmfro. Is Helmfro enigmatic or predictable?