Subdued, Sabriel could do nothing but what he demanded. She followed, joints stiffened by the magic that had invaded her very bones. Though all her body was controlled by the spell, her mind still raced freely as he led her through the next gates.

No Dead rose to greet them, and she could neither see nor sense any, even with her now heightened awareness. Even the fourth precinct, where Dead stunned by the third precinct's waves gathered by the hundreds, was empty. This must have been carefully planned. It would take a lone necromancer months to achieve this. Even a group would take several days, and whomever had done the job would have had to return and empty the precincts of new arrivals every day. It was just too perfect. And Katrel, turned from the Abhorsen he should have been, to ordinary necromancy.… Lirael would be in great danger. Worse there was nothing she could do to warn her. No mother could suspect her own son to be at the center of the storm that had killed her closest relatives. Lirael would be the next to die, and no living Abhorsen would remain. Which would, of course, be their ultimate plan. Once the Abhorsen's line was out of their way, necromancers and their rotting servants could freely terrorize the rest of life. Unchecked, they would eliminate all humanity other than the Dead's heartless masters.

"Wait here." he would not even have need Saraneth's low toll, which he again assaulted her with. The child will was unbreakable. Sabriel stopped, the river's water seeming to freeze around her feet.

Katrel pressed against the border, feeling the suppressive chill of Death turn into the musty cold of the dungeon. He would have to reach his room before his parents came to collect him. Within minutes, they would be returning to the house by paperwing. From there, he could reenter Death to retrieve his charge.

Katrel nearly jumped back out of his skin, a thunderclap crescendoing as his spirit slipped back into its vacated shell. Fine flying weather this would make. Saraneth had best hold his aunt still, lest she escape before he reached the desired destination. For that matter, he should probably attempt to do something with her body. Not that he would be able to move it far. Sabriel had gained a good bit of weight over the years, and his muscles were barely developed enough to be called such. Still, back up the stairs he went.

Nearing the top of the staircase, he spied his mother knocking on the bedroom door. She frowned, hand falling to the knob. The game was up. Lirael would open the door, see the blood and... Thinking no farther, he bolted down the stairs, heading for the door. This place, this family held nothing for him now. His path lay in the magic, the murder, the devastation of Free magic and necromancy.

The royal guards saw him running across the yard, but were not concerned. After all, he was but a child reveling in his youth. Lirael would be there to sort him out soon enough.

†††

Lirael stumbled into the room. Her head had been pounding since she had woken with a splitting headache the previous night. 'Charter help us,' she thought, eyes falling on the bloodstained pillows. ' I must have been so groggy that my death sense felt like a headache. But there had only been one death here. What could, did, happen to Sabriel?' Lirael slowly drew closer to the bed where the royal couple lay. Sabriel lay still, one hand encased in red crystal on Touchstone's cheek. The remainder of her body was also thickly iced over. It melted slowly, soaking the blankets even as more ice built up. She must have walked into Death with him and been held up there. The Death was hours old, and nothing normal could have kept her this long. She could still live, Lirael knew, but she would not choose to after such a long time in Death. Like her father, Sabriel was a true Abhorsen and would not stray from her path.

She could stand no longer. Lirael fell to her knees, allowing her tears to fall freely to join the water pooling on the covers. She had known the joy of family for less than a decade, and it was to be torn from her again. No longer could Touchstone fondly tease Nick and herself. Sabriel would never show her the hidden books she had discovered within the House. Silently, she swore on the Charter whose power she carried to find the murderer. And when she did, he would know the full wrath of both an Abhorsen and a Remembrancer.

She rose. Her work here was not yet done. Signing the usual marks over his body, she gave Touchstone the final fire. Lirael turned, making for the door. The rest of the family would have to know, and it seemed she would be the one to bear the news.

Before she reached Ellimere's chambers, nausea overcame her. Lirael managed to hold down the previous night's supper, but knew that would not last were she to open her mouth. Producing a notepad and her owl-shaped pen from a hidden pocket, she jotted three identical notes. At the top of each, she left a space for the name. Only that, and a final line on one would differ. She paused near the door where she would place the final note, wondering if she should wake him. No, it would be best to go, but.… No. She stuck the note on the door and left.

Nick,

Touchstone was murdered, and Sabriel lingers in Death. I suspect she has been held up by an accomplice of the person who killed the King. I'm heading into Death with the mirror, then I'll be off to take on the Necromancer. Watch over Katrel while I'm gone, and don't forget your meeting in Ancelstierre!

†††

A bird bewitched to act like old Ancelstierrian alarm clock woke Nick as the first traces of sun peeked over the horizon. He yawned, stretched briefly, and came dangerously close to whacking the bird on the head in pursuit of a snooze button before remembering that it was not equipped with the useful device. Giving up on getting any more rest, he noticed a flicker of of yellow. 'Will she never break that habit?' He scanned over the note once, then went back to read over it intently.

As if on cue, Ellimere pounded on the door the second he had finished re-reading the last line. Pulling on a fur robe, he let her in. "So," Nick said, loosing his typical smarts in his shock. "What are we going to do?"

"I thought that would be more than obvious. Lirael's gone, taking our only chance for capturing the assassin with her. All we can really do is follow the old proverb and hope she returns soon."

He shot her a quizzical look. "What proverb?"

"When one falls..." She allowed the end to trail out, giving him ample opportunity to recall the rest. After an enduring silence, she asked, "Surely at this this one must have found a way into Ancelstierre?"

The still puzzled expression on his face told her otherwise. Ellimere relented, and gave him the adage's ending. "…. another must rise. Now hurry and get properly dressed. There's an announcement to be made, and somebody's got to keep Mogget out of it."

A/N Well, there you go, the entire ninth chapter. Since I'm finally reaching the end of what I had written before finding this site, if there's something you'd like to see happen, tell me! As long as it can reasonably fit in with the rest of the plot, your ideas are likely to make their way into a future chapter.