Turning, she ran from the room, out through the tunnel, out into the sunshine. But it was stark and hot and hurt her eyes. Stumbling, she went to the gully and found a path down, down into the pine forest, down into the calm, cool world she loved.

Mogget found her there a few minutes later. Clariel was collapsed against the trunk of a great pine, one with a prickly skin. But she had her arms around it, nevertheless, and her head against it, and her legs were buried in the fallen needles as if they could provide a blanket to comfort her.

‘If you show weakness, Aziminil and Baazalanan will turn against you,’ said Mogget conversationally.

Clariel let go of the tree and lifted her head with a jerk.

‘What! You told me if I bound them they would serve forever! They promised!’

‘They are things of elemental power,’ said Mogget. ‘No promise means anything to them, save it be backed by force. They will serve only as long as you are stronger than them.’

‘You lied to me,’ whispered Clariel. She felt the rage rising inside her, the sudden fury of the betrayed.

‘I am not your servant,’ spat Mogget. ‘We are, if anything, companions in adversity. You wish your freedom; I wish mine. Running away and hugging trees will not help either of us!’

Clariel snarled and lunged at him, but Mogget danced away.

‘That’s better!’ he cried. ‘Let the fury come! Take the sword, take the –’

The cat’s words ended in a choking cry as his collar suddenly flared brighter than the sun, Charter marks in violent motion, circling his neck. The cat twisted in agony and flopped to the ground, while Clariel held her gauntleted hands to her face and recoiled back behind the tree.

The fury was gone, replaced by a cold determination.

‘I’m not taking those bells!’ called out Clariel. ‘But I will use Aziminil and Baazalanan as I see fit, and when I am done you will go back to the Abhorsen’s House!’

Mogget gave a pathetic, mewing cry, but it was not in answer to Clariel’s words. The blinding light of the Charter marks dimmed, and a woebegone cat crawled around the tree and looked up at Clariel.

‘I may be gone sooner than you think,’ he rasped. His head was bowed, and to Clariel he seemed totally abject, for she could not see the cunning glint in his green eyes, nor the curl in the corner of his mouth. ‘The Abhorsen has put on the ring, and soon will set out to pursue us. He will return me to the House, no doubt, but what of you? I do not think you will see your Great Forest ever again.’