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mogget purred under the scratching； but as sabriel leaned close； she could hear the faint peal of the tiny saraneth bell cut through the purr； and she was reminded that mogget was no cat； but a free magic creature。 for a moment； sabriel wondered what mogget’s true shape was； and his true nature。
“i am the servant of abhorsen；” mogget said at last。 “and you are abhorsen； so i must help you。 but you must promise me that you will not raise your father； if his body is dead。 truly； he would not wish it。”
“i cannot promise。 but i will not act without much thought。 and i will listen to you； if you are by me。”
“i guessed as much；” mogget said； twisting his head away from sabriel’s hand。 “it is true that you are sadly ignorant； or you would promise with a will。 your father should never have sent you beyond the wall。”
“why did he？” asked sabriel； her heart suddenly leaping with the question that had been with her all her school days； a question abhorsen had always smiled away with the one word； “necessity。”
“he was afraid；” replied mogget； turning his attention back to the fish。 “you were safer in ancelstierre。”
“what was he afraid of？”
“eat your fish；” replied mogget； as two sendings appeared from the kitchen； bearing what was obviously the next course。 “we’ll talk later。 in the study。”
d
chapter ix
：
lanterns lit the study； old brass lanterns that burned with charter magic in place of oil。 smokeless； silent and eternal； they provided as good a light as the electric bulbs of ancelstierre。
books lined the walls； following the curves of the tower around； save for where the stair rose from below； and the ladder climbed to the observatory above。
a redwood table sat in the middle of the room； its legs scaled and beady…eyed； ornamental flames licking from the mouths of the dragonheads that gripped each corner of the tabletop。
an inkwell； pens； papers and a pair of bronze map dividers lay upon the table。 chairs of the same red wood surrounded it； their upholstery black with a variation on the silver key motif。
the table was one of the few things sabriel remembered from her childhood visits。 “dragon desk” her father had called it； and she’d wrapped herself around one of those dragon legs； her head not even reaching the underside of the table。
sabriel ran her hand over the smooth； cool wood； feeling both her memory of it and the current sensation； then she sighed； pulled up a chair and put down the three books she’d tucked under her arm。 two； she put together close to her； the other she pushed to the center of the table。 this third book came from the single glassed…in cabinet among the bookshelves and now lay like some quiescent predator； possibly asleep； possibly waiting to spring。 its binding was of pale green leather and charter marks burned in the silver clasps that held it closed。 the book of the dead。
the other two books were normal enough by parison。 both were charter magic spell books； listing mark after mark； and how they could be used。 sabriel didn’t even recognize most of the marks after chapter four in the first book。
there were twenty chapters in each volume。
doubtless there were many other books that would be useful； sabriel thought； but she still felt too tired and shaky to get more down。 she planned to talk to mogget； then study for an hour or two； before going back to bed。 even four or five waking hours seemed too much after her ordeal； and the loss of consciousness involved in sleep suddenly seemed very appealing。
mogget； as if he had heard sabriel thinking of him； appeared at the top of the steps and sauntered over to sprawl on a well…upholstered footstand。
“i see you have found that book；” he said； tail flicking backwards and forwards as he spoke。
“take care you do not read too much。”
“i’ve already read it all； anyway；” replied sabriel； shortly。
“perhaps；” remarked the cat。 “but it isn’t always the same book。 like me； it is several things； not one。”
sabriel shrugged； as if to show that she knew all about the book。 but that was just bravado— the inner sabriel was afraid of the book of the dead。 she had worked her way through every chapter； under her father’s direction； but her normally excellent memory held only selected pages of this tome。 if it changed its contents as well—she suppressed a shiver； and told herself that she knew all that was necessary。
“my first step must be to find my father’s body；” she said。 “which is where i need your help； mogget。”
“i have no knowledge of where he met his end；” mogget stated； with finality。 he yawned； and started licking his paws。
sabriel frowned； and found herself pulling in her lips； a characteristic she had deplored in the unpopular history teacher at school； who often went “thin…lipped” in anger or exasperation。
“just tell me when you last saw him； and what his plans were。”
“why don’t you read his diary；” suggested mogget； in a momentary break from cleaning himself。
“where is it？” asked sabriel； excited。 a diary would be tremendously helpful。
“he probably took it with him；” replied mogget。 “i haven’t seen it。”
“i thought you had to help me！” sabriel said； another frown wrinkling across her forehead； reinforcing the thin lips。 “please answer my question。”
“three weeks ago；” mogget mumbled； mouth half muffled in the fur of his stomach； pink tongue alternating between words and cleansing。
“a messenger came from belisaere； begging for his help。 something dead； something that could pass the wards； was preying on them。
abhorsen—i mean the previous abhorsen； ma’am—suspected that there was more to it than that； belisaere being belisaere。 but he went。”
“belisaere。 the name’s familiar—it’s a town？”
“a city。 the capital。 at least it was； when there was still a kingdom。”
“was？”
mogget stopped washing； and looked across； eyes narrowing to frowning slits。 “what did they teach you in that school？ there hasn’t been a king or queen for two hundred years； and not even a regent for twenty。 that’s why the kingdom sinks day by day； into a darkness from which no one will rise 。 。 。”