The message came to them at the Abhorsen's House. They'd just sat down for an early supper, at Mogget's insistence though he refused to eat with them, when a sending came into the hall bearing a scroll from a messenger bird. Lirael had brushed it off at first but it kept coming back with the paper, and Mogget eventually padded into the dining hall and remarked, "You'll want to read the message. It's from your aunt."
The cat–shaped Bright Shiner wove between human legs before finding an empty chair to sit on, as was his habit, and groomed himself with his tongue. "Something about a monster in the library," he added between licks.
Lirael looked up from the scroll. "The seal isn't broken, you can't possibly know–"
"You'll want to take the idiot with you," the cat replied. He leapt down from the chair and walked toward the door. "This one is particularly difficult to deal with," he added. "Sameth might be useful too." And without another word, he turned back around and left the hall.
The idiot, Nicholas Sayre, who was being kept under the supervision of the Abhorsen for the time being, swallowed his food hastily and pointed at the paper with his fork. "What does it say?"
Lirael looked down at the scroll in her hand, surprised to see that she'd already broken the seal and rolled it out. She scanned the first few lines, made a double take, and read them again. Aunt Kirrith was not one to mince words.
Lirael wouldn't have believed what her aunt had written, if not that she'd once done almost the exact same thing.
She cleared her throat. "A librarian accidentally let some kind of free magic creature loose in the lower levels of the library. She escaped, but it killed three others before she raised the alarm. They've sealed off the library but they think it might have escaped anyway."
"Do they know what it is?" Sabriel asked. She sat at the head of the table, in the high–backed chair that Lirael was supposed to sit in when her sister was not present – not that she'd been bold enough to do so yet.
"They don't," the Abhorsen–in–Waiting replied. "They keep a lot of creatures bound in special chambers. Their access is restricted to only the highest–ranking librarians." She dipped her head but quickly drew herself up again. "I released a Stilken in the library when I was fourteen. Things like this happen."
"But you said only the top librarians had access–"
"Access is provided by a bracelet with seven levels of charter marks, and only certain marks will open certain doors. I activated almost all the marks in less than six months."
Sabriel frowned. "I never heard of a Stilken being set loose."
"I confined it in another chamber and bound it anew. It took a while, and I had…help, but I did it without raising any alarms." Lirael felt surprisingly proud of herself, telling her august half–sister of her first success.
"Help…do you mean Kibeth?"
"The Dog, yes." Lirael had explained to the Abhorsen about her friend, whom she'd created accidentally from a statuette that she'd "found" in the Clayr library. Sabriel had encouraged her to try to record the spells that she'd used, but Lirael hadn't yet gotten around to it. She'd never really gotten used to the idea that the Disreputable Dog was Kibeth, or at least a remnant that one of the Seven.
Lirael kept the dog statue that the Dog had left behind in her room in the Abhorsen's House; she didn't frequent the place, but it felt to her the safest and most comforting place to keep it. Sometimes she talked to it too, if she was particularly stressed or worried.
She had a feeling she'd be talking to the statue after returning from the Clayr's Glacier.
"I can handle this if you'd prefer not to go," the Abhorsen said. She'd observed the worried expression that had come over her sister's face.
Lirael shook her head. "I'll go. You've been putting out fires all through the West since we reinterred the hemispheres, and I'm well acquainted with the Glacier. I'm better at identifying free magic creatures, too," she added.
Her sister still looked unconvinced, so Lirael added further, "I can also visit my aunts and cousins while I'm there."
Sabriel yielded. "Sam will want to come. He's been interested in the water and ventilation systems of the Glacier since he learned about them."
"How extensive is the library?" Nick asked. Lirael felt a stab of admiration, followed quickly by jealousy. With the still–sometimes–pungent Free Magic flowing through his veins, he was immune from the ill effects that some books had on their readers.
Even the Abhorsen were not exempt from those spells, as she'd learned one day when consulting a newly–discovered page in The Book of the Dead. She'd rushed off to find relief from the nausea only to return and find Nick taking notes of the page.
"Very large, but you'll need a guide to navigate it."
Nick grinned. "After you get rid of this creature you should give me a tour."
Thoughts jumbled in Lirael's head – why did Nick keep doing that – and her stomach knotted up in worry, but she refused to let it show. Nick must have noticed a change in her expression though, because he added, "The cat said I should come. Do you have any idea why?"
Lirael shook her head, glad of the change of topic. "Not at the moment." She turned back to Sabriel. "I'm sorry we'll be leaving you alone in the house."
But Sabriel brushed her off. "Ellimere returns in a few days from Ancelstierre. Don't worry about me."
Thus ended their discussion, and their supper. Sabriel directed the sendings to prepare a Paperwing for the travelers, while they themselves sent a messenger hawk to Belisaere for Sam. Lirael had meant to write the message herself, but she found herself caught up in her own thoughts, and Nick had gone ahead and taken care of it himself.
They climbed into the Paperwing and Sabriel handed their bags up to them. "Safe travels," she said to her sister. "Send me a message hawk if you need my help," she added.
Lirael nodded wordlessly and watched her sister descend back down the steps of the platform. Nick tapped her shoulder from behind her, a signal that he was ready. With one last deep breath, Lirael began to whistle.
They had flown for two hours before Lirael remembered a question she had meant to ask Nick earlier. She took one hand off the controls and turned to the side of the cockpit, weaving the marks for cancelling the loud wind with her other hand as she went. Even with the spells, though, it was still very loud in the Paperwing.
Nick, who was engrossed in one of the books he'd borrowed from the Abhorsen's library – some journal by a pseudo–scientific necromancer – didn't notice the activity. Lirael had to tap him on the knee a couple times to get his attention.
"Why don't you mind that Mogget calls you 'idiot'?" she shouted.
Nick digested her question, and shouted back a moment later, "Well I was quite an idiot – traveling across the border alone, digging up the hemispheres, setting Orannis loose – those sorts of things."
"Yes, but that doesn't mean he should call you that!"
Nick shrugged. "I call him 'cat'. I suppose that's enough of a come–back. I don't think he likes it very much – or maybe he just doesn't like me."
Lirael nodded in agreement – Mogget did not often say favorable things about Nick Sayre – and turned back around. Nick tapped her shoulder, though, to get her attention again.
"What's the Glacier like?" he asked. He hadn't shouted, which was curious. Lirael turned back around and saw him etching Charter marks on top of her already–cast ones. Almost immediately the noise level in the cockpit plummeted.
Nick was funny like that: he seemed disinterested in learning Charter marks – and indeed, the Charter didn't oft cooperate with his spell–casting – but his magic, when harnessed correctly, was incredibly strong and blunt. A simply–cast series of Charter marks by his hand could increase the strength of an enchantment tenfold – but only if he desired it too.
"Well, it's, um, it's a glacier," she replied. She didn't know to describe it to someone who had never seen it.
"So there are rooms carved in the ice? Does the cold somehow assist the Sight? Do you bathe in cold water too or is there some sort of heating system? Sam's mom – your sister, er, I mean – said there was some sort of plumbing apparatus? How does that work?" Nick threw questions at Lirael too quickly. Sam had said this was his habit, but she'd never been on the receiving end of it before.
"Slow down! The Glacier sits between two mountains, and some the rooms are carved into the rock below. Most of the permanent rooms are rock. Others are carved into the Glacier, but the ice shifts constantly and we have to recreate them."
"So there's heating and plumbing systems…but only for the rooms set into the rock?" he asked.
"Yes. There are other ways of delivering water to the Glacier rooms, and they're actually warmer than you'd expect."
Lirael looked down to check on their progress, and was surprised to see Qyrre below them. They were making very good time; the first time she'd flown to Qyrre it had taken her more than three hours.
"The Clayr see things, right? But that can't be all they do, sit around and have visions all day," Nick added, thinking. He'd met the two Clayr representatives of the court in Belisaere, but only briefly, and they had put him off with their distant demeanor. They were homesick, Lirael had supposed, and not used to Ancelstierrans. They'd also undoubtedly Seen him raising the hemispheres, a black mark if there ever was one.
"There's a small group that forms the Nine–Day Watch," she replied, "and they switch out after their session is complete. They appoint someone every session to be the Voice of the Clayr – that's who'll be leading them when we get there."
"That sounds simple enough."
"Sometimes they summon larger groups of Clayr if they have trouble focusing their Sight," Lirael said, and added, "They had to do that to See you."
"And when they're not doing vision stuff…there's the library, probably a dining hall…" Nick mused, ignoring the mention of his misadventures the year previously.
"The Infirmary, the Rangers, the Art Studios, the Pipe Workers, the Mages, the Teachers," she listed them. "There are lots of jobs to do. The Art Studios in particular trade with the merchants who visit the Glacier."
Nick nodded and returned to his book. This was also a common habit of his – sudden uncontained interest that only sustained itself for a few minutes. If he could muster enough interest he could finish a project in a few days, but his room in the palace was littered with books half–annotated, lists of people to interview and accounts to track down, drawings created and discarded at a whim.
Lirael sighed and turned back to the control panel. She adjusted their direction a little to the east and settled back into a nap. If something went wrong, Nick would wake her up.