‘Let’s see,’ said the cat. ‘You’re neither the Abhorsen nor the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, not least because they never set foot inside this house if they can help it, but also because you’re too young. You remind me a little of … Teriel … but you can’t be his sister, also because you’re too young. Did Teriel have a child before –’

‘I meant who are you!’ interrupted Clariel.

The cat drew himself up and puffed out his chest.

‘What do you mean? I am Mogget, of course. The one and only Mogget. Though I have had other names.’

‘What are you?’ asked Clariel. ‘Why don’t the sendings … do something about you?’

‘Why would they?’ asked the cat, with a yawn. ‘I am as much a slave as they are; we are old companions. Only I wasn’t made by an Abhorsen, just forced into slavery by one, with a bit of help. It’s an ancient tale and new ones are so much more interesting. Like your story. Tell me who you are.’

‘I am Clariel. Jaciel’s daughter. The Abhorsen’s granddaughter.’

‘A pleasure to meet you,’ said Mogget. ‘It is awfully dull here, and my collar itches me so. Perhaps you would be kind enough to take it off for a few minutes?’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Clariel slowly. The Charter marks on the collar were fading now, sinking back into the red leather, but she thought she had recognised at least one master mark of binding. The mere fact she couldn’t recognise any of the others indicated their power. What’s more, the bell was obviously a small version of one of the Abhorsen’s necromantic bells. ‘Why do you say you are a slave?’

‘Bound by magic to serve the Abhorsen till the sun grows cold and dies,’ said Mogget sourly. ‘What else would you call it? If you won’t loosen my collar, can you at least fish?’

‘What do you do for the Abhorsen?’ asked Clariel.

‘I asked you first,’ said Mogget. ‘Can you fish?’

‘Yes,’ replied Clariel. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘I like fish, fresh-caught,’ said Mogget. ‘The sendings rarely give me any. I thought you might –’

‘What do you do for the Abhorsen?’ repeated Clariel.

‘Nothing for the last sixty years or more,’ said Mogget. ‘Tyriel, like his predecessor, hardly ever comes here. Spends all his time riding around that ridiculous Hillfair like an idiot, wreaking havoc on the deer. I haven’t even been taken outside since Feriniel was the Abhorsen, and she was … let’s see … Tyriel’s great-great-uncle’s daughter …’

‘What did you do back then?’

‘Oh, the usual,’ said Mogget slyly, his emerald eyes narrowing. ‘Sage advice, the wisdom of the ages, that sort of thing. Not that many of them listened. What are you doing here?’

‘Being imprisoned,’ said Clariel shortly. ‘Temporarily, if I have anything to do with it.’