She was a very young woman, perhaps only sixteen or seventeen. She was considerably shorter than Lirael but looked very wiry and tough, despite or perhaps even because of the many scratches on her face and hands and the way she ignored the absence of a foot, immediately swinging forward on her crutches to bow before Lirael.
“I bring a message from the Witch in the Cave,” said Ferin. “To her daughter, Lirael of the Clayr.”
“Thank you,” said Lirael. “I can see it has not been an easy task.”
Ferin shrugged, no small achievement on crutches.
“I have come by land and sea and air,” she said, with a slight sniff as if this was nothing. “But done no more than the Elders of the Athask would expect. I will tell you the message now?”
“Please,” said Lirael. She felt her heart begin to speed up, thumping in her chest. What could her long-departed and years-dead mother possibly have to say to her?
Ferin drew in a deep breath, and then, in the voice she clearly believed to be appropriate for a message of great import, recited a surprisingly short missive.
“Lirael. These words come from your mother. I am dead now, from the wasting sickness. But I have Seen you in the frozen waterfall. An Abhorsen like your father, and Remembrancer, wielder of the Dark Mirror. You have done great things, but there is more to do. A terrible threat builds against the Kingdom, one that will bring death and ruin to many, many, in both south and north, including my friends of the Athask. I will say more, knowing you will hear me in the past, as I See you in the future I will not live for. Come listen, on the third moon of winter, in the year of your tenth birthday.”
There was silence for a few seconds before Lirael spoke.
“That’s all? My mother who abandoned me thinks I have ‘more to do’ and wants me to go and listen to her in the past, using the Dark Mirror?” asked Lirael, unable to hide the anger and hurt on her face. Arielle hadn’t even bothered to say anything personal, or send her love. Just instructions. “Has anyone else Seen this ‘terrible threat’?”
“We have not,” said Sanar calmly, seeing the emotion on Lirael’s face. “But as you know, the Watch is depleted. Many of our best seers either have the influenza or are recovering from it, and in the North, concentrations of Free Magic may cloud our vision.”
She hesitated, then added, “It is also possible Arielle succumbed to false visions. She says she was already very ill, near to death. In such circumstances, we of the Clayr often See a great many possible futures, and indeed, even many impossible ones.”
“There may be something to it,” said Sabriel. “A number of things suggest the Clayr’s vision has been intentionally clouded. Even this influenza is untimely, and it started with a party of merchants from the steppe.”
“Can Free Magic make a disease?” asked Nick curiously.
“No, but it can be used to influence an existing one, and there is always influenza in the North in winter that typically travels slowly to us and is in full force by late spring,” said Lealla. “It is very early this year, as were the merchants. It may be only a coincidence.”
“And Ferin tells us her clan elders were ordered by the ‘Witch With No Face’ to send the entire fighting strength of the clan to a muster,” said Touchstone. “To gather at the Field Market. If this same message went to the other clans, it can have only one purpose: a massed attack upon the Greenwash Bridge.”
“I mean no offense to our visitor,” said Mirelle, bowing to Ferin. “But if none of this has been Seen, can we be sure any of the clans are sending their warriors to this muster? Or have been asked? And who is this ‘Witch With No Face’?”
“The Bridge Company reports nothing unusual,” said Touchstone. “But they do not scout so far as the Field Market until summer. As for the ‘Witch With No Face’ . . .”
He turned to Sabriel.
“It has to be Chlorr of the Mask,” said Sabriel. “She came from the North. I had wondered how she extended her life, and it seems by a similar method to Kerrigor.”
There was a stir among her listeners as she mentioned that name. Nick noted it to ask Lirael later. He vaguely recalled Sam mentioning it once, but he’d thought it was merely the name of some pet. A cat. Though perhaps it was a cat like Mogget, he thought. Not a cat after all.
“In fact, she may even have taught it to him; he was known to travel in the North. But in short, many centuries ago Chlorr must have put her original body into a state between Life and Death, suspended there by Free Magic, and her spirit moved into a new body. These she would need to replace every few decades, and it seems she has long done so by demanding offerings from the clans. Our new friend Ferin was bound for such a fate, and indeed, takes her name from being such an offering. When I slew Chlorr’s most recent body, she became a Dead spirit, but with her original body hidden somewhere she could not die the final death. Not even when compelled by my bells, or Lirael’s. Anchored in such a way, she has been able to consume other Dead and Free Magic powers, to become greater still. I had not thought of this, and presumed she would stay in the North, only needing to be dealt with if she was foolish enough to cross the Greenwash. But if what Ferin tells us is true, or if what Arielle hints at is likewise true, then I was utterly wrong and we must ready ourselves against Chlorr and for the first time in our history, the full strength of all the Northern clans.”
“If true,” muttered Mirelle.
“I suppose the first step is to find out what else my mother wants to tell me,” said Lirael. She looked at Sabriel. “Will you come into Death with me?”
“I will,” said Sabriel. Her eyes flickered, noticing Nick’s instinctive move closer to Lirael, as if he might protect her. “Indeed I wish to go into Death to investigate something else related to the Witch With No Face.”
She took a small bronze box out of her belt pouch and touched it with two fingers, a Charter mark for unlocking quickly conjured at her touch. The box sprang open, revealing a spindle of bone that flickered with small Free Magic fires. Several people retreated a few steps as it was unveiled, and the acrid hot-metal stench wafted across them. But none of the senior Clayr moved, nor Lirael or Ferin. Nick gulped audibly, and Lirael felt him shift his feet, but he did not step back.
“This is a charm or fetish I removed from Ferin,” said Sabriel. “It has several purposes, but perhaps of most interest is the necromantic magic it holds, which I suspect links Ferin in some way to the Witch With No Face. I need to examine it in Death; it may provide a clue as to why Ferin was pursued with such strength, and so far. A dozen wood-weirds and their keepers is no small force. When we return, we will know much more, I think.”
“We cannot go into Death here,” said Lirael. “Most of the Library is too well-warded. We can go down, deep into the Old Levels. Or up and out . . . which is probably better . . . to one of the lookouts, perhaps. Mirelle?”
“Northwest Two,” said Mirelle, without hesitation. “Sun will be on it longer.”
“I will go and fetch my bells, and join you there, then,” said Lirael to Sabriel.
“Wait a few minutes more,” said Touchstone easily. “I would like your views, Sabriel. We need to know more, but I think . . . I think we must act as if the threat is real. An army of nomads coming to attack the bridge . . . can we have a map of that part of the Greenwash, please, cartographer? With the Field Market?”
The cartographer, a Deputy Librarian, had already anticipated such a request. She held several ivory cubes by their ribbons in her left hand. Selecting one, she set it on the marble desktop. Charter Magic flared into life, many marks glowing and shifting about on the ivory faces. A second later, a line of intense black ink ran from the cube as if drawn by an unseen cartographer’s careful hand. It continued on, moving faster and faster, far more swiftly than anyone could actually draw, and in half a minute had completed a quite detailed map of a large area around the Greenwash, centered on the bridge, showing Yellowsands to the east, Navis to the southeast, the Clayr’s Glacier to
the south, and the Field Market sixty leagues to the north, a square mile of the steppe where a great market was held by truce four times a year.
“Amazing!” breathed Nick. Ferin too was entranced. The map was far better and more detailed than anything she had ever seen before.
“The bridge is well-fortified, with the north bank castle, the mid-river bastion, and the south bank castle,” said Touchstone. He touched the map as he spoke, and it changed, suddenly displaying the bridge and its fortifications in much closer detail. “However, it is not as strongly garrisoned as it might be; each of the seasonal Shifts is understrength . . . but it is the only possible place to cross. The river is in spate, and if there had been surreptitious building of rafts our normal patrols would have spotted that, even if the Clayr did not. So it must be the bridge. You agree?”
“Yes,” said Sabriel. “What do you think, Ferin? Could your cousins the horse nomads cross anywhere else?”
“No,” said Ferin. “When I tried, my raft was swept to the sea.”
“You crossed the Greenwash in flood?” asked Lirael.
“I tried the bridge first,” said Ferin. “They will too. The river is too wide, too cold, and too swift. Even for an Athask.”
“Only the Yrus have ships,” mused Touchstone. “And not many of those. Yes, it must be the bridge. Hawkmistress?”
A rather falcon-faced Clayr wearing the leathers of the Mews stepped forward, two Assistant Falconers at her side with their notebooks and pencils at the ready.
“I have two messages to dispatch immediately.” Touchstone spoke quickly, with great decision. “And doubtless more to follow. First, to Princess Ellimere in Belisaere. Northern invasion suspected at Greenwash Bridge stop. Order two-thirds of all Guard garrisons north of and including Chasel to march for rendezvous Greenwash Bridge immediately stop. All Trained Bands to mobilize stop. Belisaere Trained Bands to march as soon as able for Greenwash Bridge stop . . . Ah . . . is that about maximum length?”
“Yes, Highness,” said the Hawkmistress. “But I will break down any message for multiple birds, as required.”
“Good. New message, for the Greenwash Bridge Company, Navis. Northern invasion imminent at bridge stop. By royal order ready all defenses stop. Dispatch all Shifts immediately to bridge stop. Going there myself stop. Signed Touchstone End.