After dinner, which she ate in the hall alone, save for numerous sendings, Clariel went to the armoury. The sending there once again offered her armour and weapons; this time she accepted them, taking the shirt of gethre plates, which fitted quite well over the jerkin she had been given at Hillfair, though it was shorter, hanging only an inch below her hips, and also a short, broad-bladed sword similar to her old falchion.

The sword had Charter marks on the blade, but fewer than some of the other weapons, and she was eventually able to puzzle out that they were relatively straightforward marks for durability and resistance to rust. She did not want a weapon that bore marks she did not understand. For some reason the marks were harder to identify than usual; it seemed to her that they would not stay still. Charter marks always moved and shimmered, but usually they would slow or even freeze for a few seconds when someone was looking at them.

Apart from armour and sword, she discovered a good woollen cloak and a large belt pouch in her room. She filled the pouch with several not-quite-ripe apricots taken from the dinner table, and rolled the cloak up so she could wear it by its cord over her shoulder.

Her attendant sending watched these preparations, but as far as Clariel could tell was not alarmed by them, which was heartening. It seemed likely to Clariel that with an absent Abhorsen all they could really do was watch and report later, though she supposed the superior ones might be able to send messages to Hillfair. But then, if what Mogget and Bel thought about Tyriel was accurate, he would be very slow to do anything that required him to come to the House.

Waiting until midnight was difficult. There was a clock in her room, which had surprised her at first, because she expected one of the Charter Magic time crystals rather than something mechanical like you would find in Belisaere. But on closer inspection she saw that the case contained no clockwork, but instead a kind of Charter Magic imitation of cogs and wheels and chains, driving hands of gold and silver on a face of ivory, the chapters detailed in tiny pieces of jet.

Clariel had been interested in clocks at one time. There were several clockmakers in Estwael and Jaciel had worked with one of them on and off over the years. This timepiece was silent; for all its magical mimicking of clockwork it did not reproduce that comforting, regular sound, so reminiscent of a heartbeat.

Clariel shut the case and went to sit on her bed. She felt nervous and excited, but she forced herself to be calm. Once again she opened The Fury Within and read over the chapter on raising the rage, trying not to look at the clock at the end of every page.