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it had been a simple enough summoning。
mogget had taken her to the cellar and then down a winding； narrow stair； that grew colder and colder as they descended。 finally； they reached a strange grotto； where icicles hung and sabriel’s breath blew clouds of white； but it was no longer cold； or perhaps so cold she no longer felt it。 a block of pure； blue…white ice stood upon a stone pedestal； both limned with charter marks； marks strange and beautiful。
then； following mogget’s instruction； she’d simply placed her hand on the ice； and said； “abhorsen pays her respects to the clayr； and requests the gift of water。” that was all。 they’d gone back up the stairs； a sending locked the cellar door behind them； and another brought sabriel a nightshirt and a cup of hot chocolate。
but that simple ceremony had summoned something that seemed totally out of control。
sabriel watched the wave racing towards them； trying to calm herself； but her breath raced in and out as quickly as her stomach flipped over。
just as the wave hit； she screamed and ducked under the telescope。
the whole tower shook； stones screeching as they moved； and for a moment； even the sound of the waterfall was lost in a crack that sounded as if the island had been leveled by the first shock of the wave。
but； after a few seconds； the floor stopped shaking； and the crash of the flood subsided to a controlled roar； like a shouting drunk made aware of pany。 sabriel hauled herself up the tripod and opened her eyes。
the walls had held； and though now the wave was past； the river still raged a mere handspan below the island’s defenses and was almost up to the tunnel doors on either bank。
there was no sign of the stepping…stones； the coffin bridge； the dead； or any people—just a wide； brown rushing torrent； carrying debris of all descriptions。 trees； bushes； parts of buildings； livestock； chunks of ice—the flood had claimed its tribute from every riverbank for hundreds of miles。
sabriel looked at this evidence of destruction and inwardly counted the number of villagers who had died on the grave boxes。 who knew how many other lives had been lost； or livelihoods threatened； upstream？ part of her tried to rationalize her use of the flood； telling her that she had to do it in order to fight on against the dead。 another part said she had simply summoned the flood to save herself。
mogget had no time for such introspection； mourning or pangs of responsibility。 he left her watching； blank…eyed； for no more than a minute； before padding forward and delicately inserting his claws in sabriel’s slippered foot。
“ow！ what did you—”
“there’s no time to waste sightseeing；”
mogget said。 “the sendings are readying the paperwing on the eastern wall。 and your clothing and gear have been ready for at least half an hour。”
“i’ve got all 。 。 。” sabriel began； then she remembered that her pack and skis lay at the bottom end of the entrance tunnel； probably as a pile of mordicant…burned ash。
“the sendings have got everything you’ll need； and a few things you won’t； knowing them。
you can get dressed； pack up； and head off for belisaere。 i take it you intend to go to belisaere？”
“yes；” replied sabriel shortly。 she could detect a tone of smugness in mogget’s voice。
“do you know how to get there？”
sabriel was silent。 mogget already knew the answer was “no。” hence the smugness。
“do you have a 。 。 。 er 。 。 。 map？”
sabriel shook her head； clenching her fists as she did so； resisting the urge to lean forward and spank mogget； or perhaps give his tail a judicious tug。 she had searched the study and asked several of the sendings； but the only map in the house seemed to be the starmap in the tower。 the map colonel horyse had told her about must still be with abhorsen。 with father； sabriel thought； suddenly confused about their identities。 if she was now abhorsen； who was her father？ had he too once had a name that was lost in the responsibility of being abhorsen？ everything that had seemed so certain and solid in her life a few days ago was crumbling。 she didn’t even know who she was really； and trouble seemed to beset her from all sides—even a supposed servant of abhorsen like mogget seemed to provide more trouble than service。
“do you have anything positive to say—anything that might actually help？” she snapped。
mogget yawned； showing a pink tongue that seemed to contain the very essence of scorn。
“well； yes。 of course。 i know the way； so i’d better e with you。”
“e with me？” sabriel asked； genuinely surprised。 she unclenched her fists； bent down； and scratched between the cat’s ears； till he ducked away。
“someone has to look after you；” mogget added。 “at least till you’ve grown into a real abhorsen。”
“thank you；” said sabriel。 “i think。 but i would still like a map。 since you know the country so well； would it be possible for you to—i don’t know—describe it； so i can make a sketch map or something？”
mogget coughed； as if a hairball had suddenly lodged in his throat； and thrust his head back a little。 “you！ draw a sketch map？ if you must have one； i think it would be better if i undertook the cartography myself。 e down to the study and put out an inkwell and paper。”
“as long as i get a useable map i don’t care who draws it；” sabriel remarked； as she went backwards down the ladder。 she tilted her head to watch how mogget came down； but there was only the open trapdoor。 a sarcastic meow under her feet announced that mogget had once again managed to get between rooms without visible means of support。
“ink and paper；” the cat reminded her； jumping up onto the dragon desk。 “the thick paper。
smooth side up。 don’t bother with a quill。”
sabriel followed mogget’s instructions； then watched with a resigned condescension that rapidly changed to surprise as the cat crouched by the square of paper； his strange shadow falling on it like a dark cloak thrown across sand； pink tongue out in concentration。 mogget seemed to think for a moment； then one bright ivory claw shot out from a white pad—he delicately inked the claw in the inkwell； and began to draw。 first