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the gate swung open； pitching her onto a paved courtyard； the beginning of a red…brick path； the bricks ancient； their redness the color of dusty apples。 the path wound up to the front door of the house； a cheerful sky…blue door； bright against whitewashed stone。 a bronze doorknocker in the shape of a lion’s head holding a ring in its mouth gleamed in counterpoint to the white cat that lay coiled on the rush mat before the door。
sabriel lay on the bricks and smiled up at the cat； blinking back tears。 the cat twitched and turned its head ever so slightly to look at her； revealing bright； green eyes。
“hello； puss；” croaked sabriel； coughing as she staggered once more to her feet and walked forward； groaning and creaking with every step。 she reached down to pat the cat； and froze—for； as the cat thrust its head up； she saw the collar around its neck and the tiny bell that hung there。
the collar was only red leather； but the charterspell on it was the strongest； most enduring； binding that sabriel had ever seen or felt—and the bell was a miniature saraneth。 the cat was no cat； but a free magic creature of ancient power。
“abhorsen；” mewed the cat； its little pink tongue darting。 “about time you got here。”
sabriel stared at it for a moment； gave a little sort of moan and fell forward in a faint of exhaustion and dismay。
m。
chapter viii
（／小｜说｜网）
sabriel awoke to soft candlelight； the warmth of a feather bed； and silken sheets； delightfully smooth under heavy blankets。 a fire burned briskly in a red…brick fireplace and wood…paneled walls gleamed with the dark mystery of well…polished mahogany。 a blue…papered ceiling with silver stars dusted across it； faced her newly opened eyes。 two windows confronted each other across the room； but they were shuttered； so sabriel had no idea what time it was； no more than she had any remembrance of how she’d got there。 it was definitely abhorsen’s house； but her last memory was of fainting on the doorstep。
gingerly—for even her neck ached from her day and night of travel； fear and flight—sabriel lifted her head to look around and once again met the green eyes of the cat that wasn’t a cat。
the creature was lying near her feet； at the end of the bed。
“who 。 。 。 what are you？” sabriel asked nervously； suddenly all too aware that she was naked under the soft sheets。 a sensuous delight； but a defenseless one。 her eyes flickered to her sword…belt and bell…bandolier； carefully draped on a clothes…horse near the door。
“i have a variety of names；” replied the cat。 it had a strange voice； half…mew； half…purr； with hissing on the vowels。 “you may call me mogget。 as to what i am； i was once many things； but now i am only several。 primarily； i am a servant of abhorsen。 unless you would be kind enough to remove my collar？”
sabriel gave an uneasy smile； and shook her head firmly。 whatever mogget was； that collar was the only thing that kept it as a servant of abhorsen 。 。 。 or anybody else。 the charter marks on the collar were quite explicit about that。 as far as sabriel could tell； the binding spell was over a thousand years old。 it was quite possible that mogget was some free magic spirit as old as the wall； or even older。 she wondered why her father hadn’t mentioned it； and with a pang； wished that she had awoken to find her father here； in his house； both their troubles over。
“i thought not；” said mogget； bining a careless shrug with a limbering stretch。 it 。 。 。 or he； for sabriel felt the cat was definitely masculine； jumped to the parquet floor and sauntered over to the fire。 sabriel watched； her trained eye noting that mogget’s shadow was not always that of a cat。
a knock at the door interrupted her study of the cat； the sharp sound making sabriel jump nervously； the hair on the back of her neck frizzing to attention。
“it’s only one of the servants；” mogget said； in a patronizing tone。 “charter sendings； and pretty low…grade ones at that。 they always burn the milk。”
sabriel ignored him； and said； “e in。” her voice shook； and she realized that shaky nerves and weakness would be with her for a while。
the door swung open silently and a short； robed figure drifted in。 it was similar to the upper gatewarden； being cowled and so without a visible face； but this one’s habit was of light cream rather than black。 it had a simple cotton underdress draped over one arm； a thick towel over the other and its charter…woven hands held a long woollen surcoat and a pair of slippers。
without a word； it went to the end of the bed and put the garments on sabriel’s feet。 then it crossed to a porcelain basin that sat in a silver filigree stand； above a tiled area of the floor to the left of the fire。 there； it twisted a bronze wheel； and steaming hot water splashed and gurgled from a pipe in the wall； bringing with it the stench of something sulphurous and unpleasant。
sabriel wrinkled her nose。
“hot springs；” mented mogget。 “you won’t smell it after a while。 your father always said that having permanent hot water was worth bearing the smell。 or was it your grandfather who said that？ or great…great…aunt？ ah； memory 。 。 。”
the servant stood immobile while the basin filled； then twisted the wheel to cut the flow as water slopped over the rim to the floor； close to mogget—who leapt to his feet and padded away； keeping a cautious distance from the charter sending。 just like a real cat； sabriel thought。 perhaps the imposed shape impressed behavior too； over the years—or centuries。 she liked cats。 the school had a cat； a plump marmalade feline； who went by the name of biscuits。
sabriel thought about the way it slept on the windowsill of the prefect’s room； and then found herself thinking about the school in general； and what her friends would be doing。 her eyelids drooped as she imagined an etiquette class； and the mistress droning on about silver salvers 。 。 。
a sharp clang woke her with yet another start； sending further stabs of pain through tired muscles。
the charter sending had tapped the bronze wheel with the poker from the fireplace。 it was obviously impatient for sabriel to have her wash。
“w