“Greetings, Lirael. You came quickly,” said Mistress Finney. She held out a sheet of thick, linen-rich paper. One of the first things Touchstone and Sabriel had done when restoring the kingdom to rights had been to help the guild of papermakers rebuild several small mills. Touchstone had wanted paper to assist with communications and trade, Sabriel for other reasons. “I have the message ready, and a hawk waiting should you wish to send a reply.”

Lirael took the proffered paper and read the message quickly, and then once again more slowly, to be sure she had fully taken in everything it conveyed. Which wasn’t all that much, when it came to it, save that Sam’s friend Nicholas—Nick—had sent it, requesting the aid of the Abhorsen to deal with a Free Magic creature that was a very unlikely distance south of the Wall.

But then Nick himself was very unlikely, in that he had survived carrying a fragment of Orannis within himself, tainting him with Free Magic, deep into his blood and bone. Or to be more accurate, he hadn’t survived it. He’d died, but had been brought back from Death by the Disreputable Dog, who had also given him the baptismal Charter mark, somehow containing the Free Magic contamination within his body. No one had been quite sure what the result of this would be, and Nick had quickly been taken away to the south of Ancelstierre, where everyone had presumably hoped it wouldn’t matter.

“I had better go and talk to Ellimere and Sam,” said Lirael thoughtfully, though she had already decided she would go, and go straightaway. Part of her last six months’ training with Sabriel had been spent learning to fly a paperwing. She was already thinking of how she could fly west to the Ratterlin and follow its silver path south, swooping down at Barhedrin Hill to get a horse from the garrison there, and someone to help her with it, because though she’d had lessons from Ellimere, riding horses was still a new thing and she didn’t want to fall off and break her leg before she even left the Old Kingdom. But she would have to ride, because the paperwing would not cross the Wall, and walking would be too slow. Once across the Wall, she could ride in one of the Ancelstierrans’ noisy, stinking vehicles, like the truck that had taken them west to Forwin Mill to confront Orannis . . .

“And a reply?” asked Mistress Finney, breaking in on Lirael’s thoughts. “To Magistrix Coelle?”

“Oh . . . please send word that I shall come as soon as I may,” said Lirael. She thought for a few moments. “I should be there within a day, I think. I’ll go to Wyverley first, to consult the magistrix for directions and so forth.”

“I will send a hawk at once,” replied the falconer, but she spoke to empty air. Lirael was already clattering down the stairs in her eagerness to be on her way, to once again be so busy she had no time to dwell upon the past.