As she stepped over the threshold, the roar of the waterfall stopped as abruptly as if it been simply turned off. Clariel rubbed her ear, thinking she’d gone deaf, till she heard the birds calling in the orchard to her left, and Tyriel clearing his throat. She turned to him, but he was facing the wall, his hand raised, a silver ring on his finger catching an errant ray from the setting sun.

Puzzled, Clariel looked around. The place was more pleasant than she’d feared. There was the orchard to her left, heavy with late summer peaches and apricots. A long lawn was divided by a bricked path, with the great fig tree she had glimpsed in the northern section, and a fountain in the south. Beyond that was a small grove of oaks, with a strangely thin and stunted tower set into the perimeter wall beyond.

‘This is my granddaughter Clariel,’ said Tyriel. ‘She is to be accorded the respect due one of the family and guarded as such. But she is not to cross the bridge, take a boat or a Paperwing without my direct permission, or that of the Abhorsen-in-Waiting. Is that understood?’

Clariel had turned to see who the Abhorsen was talking to, since he was still facing the wall. She stepped back instinctively as she saw a shape in the stone, moving under the whitewash, a long blade in its hand. But the sword moved in salute and she saw that it was a sending coming out of the wall, the thousands of Charter marks that outlined it growing brighter as it emerged. Standing before them, the marks dimmed, and the sending took on a more normal appearance, that of a tall man in helmet and long hauberk, a great two-handed sword now resting on his shoulder. He bowed low to the Abhorsen, turned slightly, and bowed again to Clariel, only not so low.

‘You will tell the other sendings?’ asked Tyriel. ‘The House lacks for nothing to provide for her comfort?’

The sending nodded in answer to the first question, and shook its head to the second.

‘Right,’ said Tyriel, turning around to clap his hand on Clariel’s shoulder. It had more the feel of a man grabbing a dog he was about to instruct than anything familial. ‘That’s settled. You’ll be comfortable here, and more importantly, completely safe. I will visit you as soon as matters allow.’

‘You’re just leaving me here?’ asked Clariel. ‘Are there … does anyone else live here?’

‘Only the sendings,’ said Tyriel. ‘Kargrin’s letter said you found the city too busy, you liked solitude –’

‘In the Great Forest,’ protested Clariel. ‘Of my own choice!’

‘I’ll send Bel to visit when he’s well,’ said Tyriel. ‘I will visit myself when the opportunity presents … As I said, it will only be for a few months, three maybe …’