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ld； enter death with all precaution； summon her guide； get directions and get out as quickly as possible。 quicker； even。
with decision came action。 sabriel dropped her skis and pack； stuffed some dried fruit and homemade toffee in her mouth for quick energy； and adopted the meditative pose that made charter magic easier。
after bit of trouble with the toffee and her teeth； she began。 symbols formed in her mind— the four cardinal charter marks that were the poles of a diamond that would protect her from both physical harm and free magic。 sabriel held them in her mind； fixed them in time； and pulled them out of the flow of the never…ending charter。
then； drawing her sword； she traced rough outlines in the snow around her； one mark at each cardinal point of the pass。 as she finished each mark； she let the one in her mind run from her head to her hand； down the sword and into the snow。 there； they ran like lines of golden fire and the marks became alive； burning on the ground。
the last mark was the north mark； the one closest to the destroyed stone； and it almost failed。 sabriel had to close her eyes and use all her will to force it to leave the sword。 even then； it was only a pallid imitation of the other three； burning so weakly it hardly melted the snow。
sabriel ignored it； quelling the nausea that had brought bile to the back of her mouth； her body reacting to the struggle with the charter mark。
she knew the north mark was weak； but golden lines had run between all four points and the diamond was plete； if shaky。 in any case； it was the best she could do。 she sheathed her sword； took off her gloves； and fumbled with her bellbandolier； cold fingers counting the bells。
“ranna；” she said aloud； touching the first； the smallest bell。 ranna the sleepbringer； the sweet； low sound that brought silence in its wake。
“mosrael。” the second bell； a harsh； rowdy bell。 mosrael was the waker； the bell sabriel should never use； the bell whose sound was a seesaw； throwing the ringer further into death； as it brought the listener into life。
“kibeth。” kibeth； the walker。 a bell of several sounds； a difficult and contrary bell。 it could give freedom of movement to one of the dead； or walk them through the next gate。 many a necromancer had stumbled with kibeth and walked where they would not。
“dyrim。” a musical bell； of clear and pretty tone。 dyrim was the voice that the dead so often lost。 but dyrim could also still a tongue that moved too freely。
“belgaer。” another tricksome bell； that sought to ring of its own accord。 belgaer was the thinking bell； the bell most necromancers scorned to use。 it could restore independent thought； memory and all the patterns of a living person。 or； slipping in a careless hand； erase them。
“saraneth。” the deepest； lowest bell。 the sound of strength。 saraneth was the binder； the bell that shackled the dead to the wielder’s will。
and last； the largest bell； the one sabriel’s cold fingers found colder still； even in the leather case that kept it silent。
“astarael； the sorrowful；” whispered sabriel。
astarael was the banisher； the final bell。 properly rung； it cast everyone who heard it far into death。 everyone； including the ringer。
sabriel’s hand hovered； touched on ranna； and then settled on saraneth。 carefully； she undid the strap and withdrew the bell。 its clapper； freed of the mask； rang slightly； like the growl of a waking bear。
sabriel stilled it； holding the clapper with her palm inside the bell； ignoring the handle。 with her right hand； she drew her sword and raised it to the guard position。 charter marks along the blade caught the moonlight and flickered into life。 sabriel watched them for a moment； as portents could sometimes be seen in such things。
strange marks raced across the blade； before transmuting into the more usual inscription； one that sabriel knew well。 she bowed her head； and prepared to enter into death。
unseen by sabriel； the inscription began again； but parts of it were not the same。 “i was made for abhorsen； to slay those already dead；” was what it usually said。 now it continued； “the clayr saw me； the wallmaker made me； the king quenched me； abhorsen wields me。”
sabriel； eyes closed now； felt the boundary between life and death appear。 on her back； she felt the wind； now curiously warm； and the moonlight； bright and hot like sunshine。 on her face； she felt the ultimate cold and； opening her eyes； saw the grey light of death。
with an effort of will； her spirit stepped through； sword and bell prepared。 inside the diamond her body stiffened； and fog blew up in eddies around her feet； twining up her legs。 frost rimed her face and hands and the charter marks flared at each apex of the diamond。 three steadied again； but the north mark blazed brighter still—and went out。
the river ran swiftly； but sabriel set her feet against the current and ignored both it and the cold； concentrating on looking around； alert for a trap or ambush。 it was quiet at this particular entry point to death。 she could hear the water tumbling through the second gate； but nothing else。 no splashing； or gurgling； or strange mewlings。
no dark； formless shapes or grim silhouettes； shadowy in this grey light。
carefully holding her position； sabriel looked all around her again； before sheathing her sword and reaching into one of the thigh pockets in her woollen knickerbockers。 the bell； saraneth； stayed ready in her left hand。 with her right； she drew out a paper boat and； still one…handed； opened it out to its proper shape。 beautifully white； almost luminous in this light； it had one small； perfectly round stain at its bow； where sabriel had carefully blotted a drop of blood from her finger。
sabriel laid it flat on her hand； lifted it to her lips； and blew on it as if she were launching a feather。 like a glider； it flew from her hand into the river。 sabriel held that launching breath as the boat was almost swamped； only to breathe in with relief as it breasted a ripple； righted itself and surged away with the current。 in a few seconds it was out of sight； heading for the second gate。
it was the second time in her life that s