‘I know of Kargrin,’ said Mogget, as Clariel looked in the armoury on the second floor. It was very well-stocked, and perfectly clean, but it had an air of disuse. Everything was just too perfectly put away. As with elsewhere in the House, a sending appeared as soon as Clariel entered, this one gesturing at the racks of swords and the stands of bows and spears with what might almost be construed as a beseeching gesture. Clariel shook her head, though she took note of several weapons of interest. If there was any chance of getting away, she would need to be better equipped. There were complete arrays of armour there too, on stands, including a short shirt of gethre plates that looked like it would fit her.

‘What was that about Kargrin?’ she asked Mogget as they left. She hadn’t been paying attention and he’d said something else about the magister.

‘His teacher’s the one to watch for,’ repeated Mogget. ‘The old witch.’

Clariel stopped. ‘Who?’

‘Ader, she calls herself, or did,’ said Mogget. ‘But she was Maderael when she was the Abhorsen.’

‘What!’

‘When she was the Abhorsen,’ said Mogget innocently.

‘But … she’s still alive,’ said Clariel. ‘I thought you only got a new Abhorsen when the old one died …’

‘Ah, the lack of education among you young ones,’ sighed Mogget. ‘Abhorsens can abdicate their authority. The trick is fooling … convincing someone else to take over.’

‘You mean she was the Abhorsen before Tyriel?’

Mogget shook his head and gave out a rather alarming caterwaul-like chuckle.

‘Oh, no, she was one back again, the Abhorsen before Kariniel, almost a hundred years ago.’

Clariel shook her head. ‘She can’t be that old.’

‘Can’t she?’ asked Mogget. ‘Charter Magic can do many things. She was very young when she took the bells, and very young when she gave them back again.’

‘Why?’

Mogget looked away from her and batted at the air with his paw, as if an errant fly was passing.

‘How would I know? I’m just a slave, remember?’

‘Look, I don’t even want to know this!’ protested Clariel. ‘I don’t care who’s the Abhorsen now or then or whenever! I just want to go and live my life in the Great Forest and be left alone!’

‘Well why don’t you?’ asked Mogget reasonably.

‘I just told you,’ said Clariel crossly. ‘Governor Kilp wants me to be a puppet Queen. Gullaine wants me to be some kind of regent. The Abhorsen wants to keep me out of the way while he dithers about actually doing something about anything. And I’m a prisoner here!’

Mogget’s ears went up, expressing an opinion Clariel interpreted as mild contempt, and padded out of the room. Clariel followed him, treading heavily, and wondered why she’d bothered to tell the creature anything. But he had made her think.