Clariel struck, but somehow her target twisted away, making her angrier still. She charged forward, hitting strange objects whose tops erupted into flurries of movement and piercing cries, confusing her as they flapped about, and behind them her foe kept backing away. There were strange flashes of light, and trails of glowing sparks that lashed her, but still she went forward, her knife slashing. Then the trails of light wrapped around her, trussing her up like a spider securing its prey. She was suddenly down on the floor, shaking and gibbering, her hand jerking as even then she still tried to stab the enemy, the enemy who must be killed …

chapter twenty-three

across the bridge, into the house

‘So you do have your mother’s fury,’ said Tyriel.

Clariel opened one eye, and saw the Abhorsen looming above her, a red-streaked sky and a hawk on a perch behind him. She opened the other eye, and saw more perches. She was still on the balcony of the mews, but it was some considerable time after her last conscious memory, for the sun was beginning to set.

There was something soft under her head. She reached back for it and felt a pillow, realising with the motion she was not bound, as well as she might have been after trying to kill her grandfather. They could bind her easily enough now, thought Clariel, for she felt as if she could hardly move. There was no strength in her at all.

‘The rage crops up every now and then among us,’ said Tyriel. ‘I have had some practice in dealing with berserks. I saw you try to hold it back. I suppose I should have expected something of the sort, for it often gets out of control after … things that stir the emotions … deaths and trouble … and Kargrin had told me you had the rage.’

He was sitting on a wooden stool, the kind milkmaids used, Clariel saw. It looked rather incongruous. He saw her staring at the little three-legged affair, and added, ‘My knees aren’t what they were, and I didn’t want to leave you. It’s best to let a berserk stay where they fall. They come back to their senses faster that way. How do you feel?’

‘Weak,’ whispered Clariel. ‘And foolish.’

‘You should not feel foolish,’ said Tyriel. ‘The rage is both curse and blessing. Learn to rule it, and it can aid you to incredible feats of strength and daring. Let it rule you … I’m sure you can imagine how that would end.’

‘I can,’ whispered Clariel. ‘I won’t let it.’

‘There is an excellent book that has proved to be very helpful for our various berserks,’ said Tyriel. ‘I believe there is a copy at the house. I will send word to have the sending librarian find it for you.’

‘I will not stay there,’ muttered Clariel.