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as neither the archers nor touchstone reacted； it was obviously of no account。
鈥渢hese are bad times；鈥潯he elder said。 鈥渨e have been forced to leave our firesides for the smoking sheds； warmth and fort for seawinds and the stench of fish。 many of the people of nestowe are dead鈥攐r worse。 strangers and travelers are rare in such times； and not always what they seem。鈥�
鈥渋 am the abhorsen；鈥潯abriel said； reluctantly。
鈥渆nemy of the dead。鈥�
鈥渋 remember；鈥潯eplied the old man； slowly。
鈥渁bhorsen came here when i was a young man。 he came to put down the haunts that the spice merchant brought； charter curse him。
abhorsen。 i remember that coat you鈥檙e wearing； blue as a ten…fathom sea； with the silver keys。 there was a sword； also 。 。 。鈥�
he paused； expectantly。 sabriel stood； silently； waiting for him to go on。
鈥渉e wants to see the sword；鈥潯ouchstone said； voice flat； after the silence stretched too far。
鈥渙h；鈥潯eplied sabriel； flushing。
it was quite obvious。 carefully； so as not to alarm the archers； she drew her sword； holding it up to the sun； so the charter marks could clearly be seen； silver dancers on the blade。
鈥測es；鈥潯ighed the elder； old shoulders sagging with relief。 鈥渢hat is the sword。 charter…spelled。
she is the abhorsen。鈥�
he turned and tottered back towards the archers； worn voice increasing to the ghost of a fisherman鈥檚 cross…water hail。 鈥渆 on； you four。 quick with the bridge。 we have visitors！ help at last！鈥�
sabriel glanced at touchstone； raising her eyebrows at the implication of the old man鈥檚 last three words。 surprisingly； touchstone met her gaze； and held it。
鈥渋t is traditional for someone of high rank； such as yourself； to be announced by their sworn swordsman；鈥潯e said quietly。 鈥渁nd the only acceptable way for me to travel with you is as your sworn swordsman。 otherwise； people will assume that we are； at best； illicit lovers。 having your name coupled to mine in such a guise would lower you in most eyes。 you see？鈥�
鈥渁h；鈥潯eplied sabriel； gulping； feeling the flush of embarrassment e back and spread from her cheeks to her neck。 it felt a lot like being on the receiving end of one of miss prionte鈥檚 severest social put…downs。 she hadn鈥檛 even thought about how it would look； the two of them traveling together。 certainly； in ancelstierre； it would be considered shameful； but this was the old kingdom； where things were different。 but only some things； it seemed。
鈥渓esson two hundred and seven；鈥潯uttered mogget from somewhere near her feet。 鈥渢hree out of ten。 i wonder if they鈥檝e got any freshcaught whiting？ i鈥檇 like a small one； still flopping鈥斺��
鈥渂e quiet！鈥潯abriel interrupted。 鈥測ou鈥檇 better pretend to be a normal cat for a while。鈥�
鈥渧ery well； milady。 abhorsen；鈥潯ogget replied； stalking away to sit on the other side of touchstone。
sabriel was about to reply scathingly when she saw the faintest curve at the corner of touchstone鈥檚 mouth。 touchstone？ grinning？ surprised； she misplaced the retort on her tongue； then forgot it altogether； as the four archers heaved a plank across the gap； the end smacking down onto stone with a startling bang。
鈥減lease cross quickly；鈥潯he elder said； as the men steadied the plank。 鈥渢here are many fell creatures in the village now； and i fear the day is almost done。鈥�
true to his words； cloud…shadow fell across them as he spoke； and the fresh scent of closing rain mingled with the wet and salty smell of the sea。 without further urging； sabriel ran quickly across the plank； mogget behind her； touchstone bringing up the rear。
chapter xvii
锛婂皬锛忚锛紅锛漻t锛婂ぉ锛惧爞锛�
all the survivors of nestowe were gathered in the largest of the fish…smoking sheds； save for the current shift of archers who watched the breakwater。 there had been one hundred and twenty…six villagers the week before鈥攏ow there were thirty…one。
鈥渢here were thirty…two until this morning；鈥�
the elder said to sabriel； as he passed her a cup of passable wine and a piece of dried fish atop a piece of very hard； very stale bread。 鈥渨e thought we were safe when we got to the island； but monjer stowart鈥檚 boy was found just after dawn today； sucked dry like a husk。 when we touched him； it was like 。 。 。 burnt paper； that still holds its shape 。 。 。 we touched him； and he crumbled into flakes of 。 。 。 something like ash。鈥�
sabriel looked around as the old man spoke； noting the many lanterns； candles and rush tapers that added both to the light and the smoky； fishy atmosphere of the shed。 the survivors were a very mixed group鈥攎en； women and children； from very young to the elder himself。 their only mon characteristic was the fear pinching their faces； the fear showing in their nervous； staccato movement。
鈥渨e think one of them鈥檚 here；鈥潯aid a woman； her voice long gone beyond fear to fatalism。 she stood alone； acpanied by the clear space of tragedy。 sabriel guessed she had lost her family。
husband； children鈥攑erhaps parents and siblings； too； for she wasn鈥檛 over forty。
鈥渋t鈥檒l take us； one by one；鈥潯he woman continued； matter…of…fact； her voice filling the shed with dire certainty。 around her； people shuffled； twitchily； not looking at her； as if to meet her gaze would be to accept her words。
most looked at sabriel and she saw hope in their eyes。 not blind faith； or plete confidence； but a gambler鈥檚 hope that a new horse might change a run of losses。
鈥渢he abhorsen who came when i was young；鈥�
the elder continued鈥攁nd sabriel saw that at his age； this would be his memory alone； of all the villagers鈥斺�渢his abhorsen told me that it was his purpose to slay the dead。 he saved us from the haunts that came in the merchant鈥檚 caravan。 is it still the same； lady？ will abhorsen save us from the dead？鈥�
sabriel thought for a moment； her mind mentally flicking through the pages of the book of the dead； feeling it stir in the backpack that sat by her feet。 her thoughts strayed to her father； the forthing journey to belisaere； the way in which dead enemies seemed to be arrayed against her by some controlling mind。
鈥渋 will ensure this island is free of the dead；鈥�
she said at last； speaking clearly so all could hear her。 鈥渂ut i cannot free the mainland village。
there is a greater evil at work in the kingdom鈥攖hat same evil that has broken your charter stone鈥攁nd i must find and defeat it as soon as i can。 when that is done； i will return鈥敗 hope with other help鈥攁nd both village and charter stone will be restored。鈥�
鈥渨e understand；鈥潯eplied the elder。 he seemed saddened； but philosophic。 he continued； speaking more to his people than to sabriel。 鈥渨e can survive here。 there is the spring； and the fish。 we have boats。 if callibe has not fallen to the dead； we can trade； for vegetables and other stuffs。鈥�
鈥測ou will have to keep watching the breakwater；鈥�
touchstone said。 he stood behind sabriel鈥檚 chair； the very image of a stern bodyguard。
鈥渢he dead鈥攐r their living slaves鈥敗ay try to fill it in with stones； or push across a bridge。 they can cross running water by building bridges of boxed grave dirt。鈥�
鈥渟o； we are besieged；鈥潯aid a man to the front of the mass of villagers。 鈥渂ut what of this dead thing already here on the island； already preying upon us？ how will you find it？鈥�
silence fell as the questioner spoke； for this was the one answer everyone wanted to hear。 rain sounded loud on the roof in the absence of human speech； steady rain； as had been falling since late afternoon。 the dead disliked the rain； sabriel thought inconsequentially； as she considered this question。 rain didn鈥檛 destroy； but it hurt and irritated the dead。 wherever the dead thing was on the island； it would be out of the rain。
she stood up with that thought。 thirty…one pairs of eyes watched her； hardly blinking； despite the cloying smoke from too many lanterns； candles and tapers。 touchstone watched the villagers； mogget watched a piece of fish； sabriel closed her eyes； questing outward with other senses； trying to feel the presence of the dead。
it was there鈥攁 faint； concealed emanation； like an untraceable whiff of something rotten。
sabriel concentrated on it； followed it； and found it； right there in the shed。 the dead was somehow hiding among the villagers。
she opened her eyes slowly； looking straight at the point where her senses told her the dead creature lurked。 she saw a fisherman； middleaged； his salt…etched face red under sun…bleached hair。 he seemed no different than the others around him； listening intently for her reply； but there was definitely something dead in him； or very close by。 he was wearing a boat cloak； which seemed odd； since the smoking shed was hot from massed humanity and the many lights。
鈥渢ell me；鈥潯abriel said。 鈥渄id anyone bring a large box with them out to the island？ something； say； an arm…span square a side； or larger？ it would be heavy鈥攚ith grave dirt。鈥�
murmurs and enquiries met this question； neighbors turning to each other； with little flowerings of fear and suspicion。 as they talked； sabriel walked out through them； surreptitiously loosening her sword； signaling touchstone to stay close by her。 he followed her； eyes flickering across the little groups of villagers。 mogget； glancing up from his fish； stretched and lazily stalked behind touchstone鈥檚 heels； after a warning glare at the two cats who were eyeing the half…consumed head and tail of his fishy repast。
careful not to alarm her quarry； sabriel took a zigzag path through the shed； listening to the villagers with studied attention； though the blond fisherman never left the corner of her eye。 he was deep in discussion with another man； who seemed to be growing more suspicious by the second。
closer now； sabriel was sure that the fisherman was a vassal of the dead。 technically； he was still alive； but a dead spirit had suppressed his will； riding on his flesh like some shadowy stringpuller； using his body as a puppet。 something highly unpleasant would be half…submerged in his back； under the boat cloak。 mordaut； they were called； sabriel remembered。 a whole page was devoted to these parasitical spirits in the book of the dead。 they liked to keep a primary host alive； slipping off at night to sate their hunger from other living prey鈥攍ike children。
鈥渋鈥檓 sure i saw you with a box like that； patar；鈥潯he suspicious fisherman was saying。 鈥渏all stowart helped you get it ashore。 hey； jall！鈥�
he shouted that last； turning to look at someone else across the room。 in that instant； the dead…ridden patar exploded into action； clubbing his questioner with both forearms； knocking him aside； running to the door with the silent ferocity of a battering ram。
but sabriel had expected that。 she stood before him； sword at the ready； her left hand drawing ranna； the sweet sleeper； from the bandolier。
she still hoped to save the man； by quelling the mordaut。
patar slid to a halt and half…turned； but touchstone was there behind him； twin swords glowing eerily with shifting charter marks and silver flames。 sabriel eyed the blades in surprise； she hadn鈥檛 known they were spelled。 past time she asked； she realized。
then ranna was free in her hand鈥攂ut the mordaut didn鈥檛 wait for the unavoidable lullaby。
patar suddenly screamed； and stood rigid； the redness draining from his face； to be replaced by grey。 then his flesh crumpled and fell apart； even his bones flaking away to soggy ash as the mordaut sucked all the life out of him in one voracious instant。 newly fed and strengthened； the dead slid out from the falling cloak； a pool of squelching darkness。 it took shape as it moved； being a large； disgustingly elongated sort of rat。 quicker than any natural rat； it scuttled towards a hole in the wall and escape！ sabriel lunged； her blade striking chips from the floor planks； missing the shadowy form by a scant instant。
touchstone didn鈥檛 miss。 his right…hand sword sheared through the creature just behind the head； the left…wielded blade impaling its sinuous midsection。
pinned to the floor； the creature writhed and arched； its shadow…stuff working away from the blades。 it was remaking its body； escaping the trap。
quickly； sabriel stood over it； ranna sounding in her hand； sweet； lazy tone echoing out into the shed。
before the echoes died； the mordaut ceased to writhe。 form half…lost by its shifting from the swords； it lay like a lump of charred liver； quivering on the floor； still impaled。
sabriel replaced ranna； and drew the eager saraneth。 its forceful voice snapped out； sound weaving a net of domination over the foul creature。 the mordaut made no effort to resist； even to make a mouth to whine its cause。 sabriel felt it succumb to her will； via the medium of saraneth。
she put the bell back； but hesitated as her hand fell on kibeth。 sleeper and master had spoken well； but walker sometimes had its own ideas； and it was stirring suspiciously under her hand。
best to wait a moment； to calm herself； sabriel thought； taking her hand away from the bandolier。
she sheathed her sword； and looked around the shed。 to her surprise； everyone except touchsto