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tle attention to spare for the trees； for in between each of these straggling patches of greenery； there were paved areas—and on each of these paved areas rested a ship。
fourteen open…decked； single…masted longboats； their black sails set to catch a nonexistent wind； oars out to battle an imaginary tide。 they flew many flags and standards； all limp against mast and rigging； but sabriel didn’t need to see them unfurled to know what strange cargo these ships might bear。 she’d heard of this place； as had every child in the northern parts of ancelstierre； close to the old kingdom。 hundreds of tales of treasure； adventure and romance were woven around this strange harbor。
“funerary ships；” said sabriel。 “royal ships。”
she had further confirmation that this was so； for there were binding spells woven into the very dirt her feet scuffed at the tunnel entrance； spells of final death that could only have been laid by an abhorsen。 no necromancer would ever raise any of the ancient rulers of the old kingdom。
“the famous burial ground of the first 。 。 。
ckkk 。 。 。 the kings and queens of the old kingdom；” pronounced mogget； after some difficulty。
he danced around sabriel’s feet； then stood on his hind legs and made expansive gestures； like a circus impresario in white fur。
finally； he shot off into the trees。
“e on—there’s a spring； spring； spring！” he caroled； as he leaped up and down in time with his words。
sabriel followed at a slower pace； shaking her head and wondering what had happened to make mogget so cheerful。 she felt bruised； tired and depressed； shaken by the free magic monster； and sad about the paperwing。
they passed close by two of the ships on their way to the spring。 mogget led her a merry dance around both of them； in a mad circumnavigation of twists； leaps and bounds； but the sides were too high to look in and she didn’t feel like shinning up an oar。 she did pause to look at the figureheads— imposing men； one in his forties； the other somewhat older。 both were bearded； had the same imperious eyes； and wore armor similar to sabriel’s； heavily festooned with medallions； chains and other decorations。 each held a sword in his right hand； and an unfurling scroll that turned back on itself in their left—the heraldic representation of the charter。
the third ship was different。 it seemed shorter and less ornate； with a bare mast devoid of black sails。 no oars sprang from its sides； and as sabriel reached the spring that lay under its stern； she saw uncaulked seams between the planking； and realized that it was inplete。
curious； she dropped her pack by the little pool of bubbling water and walked around to the bow。
this was different too； for the figurehead was a young man—a naked young man； carved in perfect detail。
sabriel blushed a little； for it was an exact likeness； as if a young man had been transformed from flesh to wood； and her only prior experience of naked men was in clinical cross…sections from biology textbooks。 his muscles were lean and well…formed； his hair short and tightly curled against his head。 his hands； well…shaped and elegant； were partly raised； as if to ward off some evil。
the detail even extended to a circumcised penis； which sabriel glanced at in an embarrassed way； before looking back at his face。 he was not exactly handsome； but not displeasing。
it was a responsible visage； with the shocked expression of someone who has been betrayed and only just realized it。 there was fear there； too； and something like hatred。 he looked more than a little mad。 his expression troubled her； for it seemed too human to be the result of a woodcarver’s skill； no matter how talented。
“too life…like；” sabriel muttered； stepping back from the figurehead； hand falling to the hilt of her sword； her magical senses reaching out； seeking some trap or deception。
there was no trap； but sabriel did feel something in or around the figurehead。 a feeling similar to that of a dead revenant； but not the same— a niggling sensation that she couldn’t place。
sabriel tried to identify it； while she looked over the figurehead again； carefully examining him from every angle。 the man’s body was an intellectual problem now； so she looked without embarrassment； studying his fingers； fingernails and skin； noting how perfectly they were carved； right down to the tiny scars on his hands； the product of sword and dagger practice。 there was also the faint sign of a baptismal charter mark on his forehead； and the pale trace of veins on his eyelids。
that inspection led her to certainty about what she’d detected； but she hesitated about the action that should be taken； and went in search of mogget。 not that she put a lot of faith in advice or answers from that quarter； given his present propensity towards behaving as a fairly silly cat—though perhaps this was a reaction to his brief experience of being a free magic beast again； something that might not have happened for a millennium。 the cat form was probably a wele relief。
in fact； no advice at all could be had from mogget。 sabriel found him asleep in a field of flowers near the spring； his tail and paddy…paws twitching to a dream of dancing mice。 sabriel looked at the straw…yellow flowers； sniffed one； scratched mogget behind the ears； then went back to the figurehead。 the flowers were catbalm； explaining both mogget’s previous mood and his current somnolence。 she would have to make up her own mind。
“so；” she said； addressing the figurehead like a lawyer before a court。 “you are the victim of some free magic spell and necromantic trickery。
your spirit lies neither in life nor death； but somewhere in between。 i could cross into death； and find you near the border； i’m sure—but i could find a lot of trouble as well。 trouble i can’t deal with in my current pathetic state。 so what can i do？ what would father—abhorsen 。 。 。 or any abhorsen—do in my place？”
she thought about it for a while； pacing backwards and forwards； bruises temporarily forgotten。
that last question seemed to make her duty clear。 sabriel felt sure her father would free the man。 that’s what he did； that was what he lived fo