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he result of a woodcarver鈥檚 skill； no matter how talented。
鈥渢oo life…like；鈥潯abriel muttered； stepping back from the figurehead； hand falling to the hilt of her sword； her magical senses reaching out； seeking some trap or deception。
there was no trap； but sabriel did feel something in or around the figurehead。 a feeling similar to that of a dead revenant； but not the same鈥敗 niggling sensation that she couldn鈥檛 place。
sabriel tried to identify it； while she looked over the figurehead again； carefully examining him from every angle。 the man鈥檚 body was an intellectual problem now； so she looked without embarrassment； studying his fingers； fingernails and skin； noting how perfectly they were carved； right down to the tiny scars on his hands； the product of sword and dagger practice。 there was also the faint sign of a baptismal charter mark on his forehead； and the pale trace of veins on his eyelids。
that inspection led her to certainty about what she鈥檇 detected； but she hesitated about the action that should be taken； and went in search of mogget。 not that she put a lot of faith in advice or answers from that quarter； given his present propensity towards behaving as a fairly silly cat鈥攖hough perhaps this was a reaction to his brief experience of being a free magic beast again； something that might not have happened for a millennium。 the cat form was probably a wele relief。
in fact； no advice at all could be had from mogget。 sabriel found him asleep in a field of flowers near the spring； his tail and paddy…paws twitching to a dream of dancing mice。 sabriel looked at the straw…yellow flowers； sniffed one； scratched mogget behind the ears； then went back to the figurehead。 the flowers were catbalm； explaining both mogget鈥檚 previous mood and his current somnolence。 she would have to make up her own mind。
鈥渟o；鈥潯he said； addressing the figurehead like a lawyer before a court。 鈥測ou are the victim of some free magic spell and necromantic trickery。
your spirit lies neither in life nor death； but somewhere in between。 i could cross into death； and find you near the border； i鈥檓 sure鈥攂ut i could find a lot of trouble as well。 trouble i can鈥檛 deal with in my current pathetic state。 so what can i do？ what would father鈥攁bhorsen 。 。 。 or any abhorsen鈥攄o in my place？鈥�
she thought about it for a while； pacing backwards and forwards； bruises temporarily forgotten。
that last question seemed to make her duty clear。 sabriel felt sure her father would free the man。 that鈥檚 what he did； that was what he lived for。 the duty of an abhorsen was to remedy unnatural necromancy and free magic sorcery。
she didn鈥檛 think further than that； perhaps due to the injudicious sniffing of the catbalm。 she didn鈥檛 even consider that her father would probably have waited until he was fitter鈥攑erhaps till the next day。 after all； this young man must have been incarcerated for many years； his physical body transformed into wood； and his spirit somehow trapped in death。 a few days would make no difference to him。 an abhorsen didn鈥檛 have to immediately take on any duty that presented itself 。 。 。
but for the first time since she鈥檇 crossed the wall； sabriel felt there was a clear…cut problem for her to solve。 an injustice to be righted and one that should involve little more than a few minutes on the very border of death。
some slight sense of caution remained with her； so she went and picked up mogget； placing the dozing cat near the feet of the figurehead。
hopefully； he would wake up if any physical danger threatened鈥攏ot that this was likely； given the wards and guards on the sinkhole。
there were even barriers that would make it difficult to cross into death； and more than difficult for something dead to follow her back。 all in all； it seemed like the perfect place to undertake a minor rescue。
once more； she checked the bells； running her hands over the smooth wood of the handles； feeling their voices within； eagerly awaiting release。
this time； it was ranna she freed from its leather case。 it was the least noticeable of the bells； its very nature lulling listeners； beguiling them to sleep or inattention。
second thoughts brushed at her like doubting fingers； but she ignored them。 she felt confident； ready for what would only be a minor stroll in death； amply safeguarded by the protections of this royal necropolis。 sword in one hand； bell in the other； she crossed into death。
cold hit her； and the relentless current； but she stood where she was； still feeling the warmth of life on her back。 this was the very interface between the two realms； where she would normally plunge ahead。 this time； she planted her feet against the current； and used her continuing slight contact with life as an anchor to hold her own against the waters of death。
everything seemed quiet； save for the constant gurgling of the water about her feet； and the faroff crash of the first gate。 nothing stirred； no shapes loomed up in the grey light。 cautiously； sabriel used her sense of the dead to feel out anything that might be lurking； to feel the slight spark of the trapped； but living； spirit of the young man。 back in life； she was physically close to him； so she should be near his spirit here。
there was something； but it seemed further into death than sabriel expected。 she tried to see it； squinting into the curious greyness that made distance impossible to judge； but nothing was visible。 whatever was there lurked beneath the surface of the water。
sabriel hesitated； then walked towards it； carefully feeling her way； making sure of every footfall； guarding against the gripping current。 there was definitely something odd out there。 she could feel it quite strongly鈥攊t had to be the trapped spirit。 she ignored the little voice at the back of her mind that suggested it was a fiercely devious dead creature； strong enough to hold its own against the race of the river 。 。 。
nevertheless； when she was a few paces back from whatever it was； sabriel let ranna sound鈥敗 muffled； sleepy peal that carried the sensation of a yawn； a sigh； a head falling forward； eyes heavy鈥攁 call to sleep。
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