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problem。 my current abhorsen certainly isn’t lying around crying her eyes out。 make yourself useful and help her。”
“can i？” asked touchstone bleakly； wiping his face with the blanket。
“why not？” snorted mogget。 “get dressed； for a start。 there are some things aboard here for you as well。 swords and suchlike。”
“but i’m not fit to wield royal—”
“just do as you’re told；” mogget said firmly。
“think of yourself as abhorsen’s sworn swordhand； if it makes you feel better； though in this present era； you’ll find mon sense is more important than honor。”
“very well；” touchstone muttered； humbly。
he stood up and put on the underclothes and shirt； but couldn’t get the trousers past his heavily muscled thighs。
“there’s a kilt and leggings in one of the chests back here；” mogget said； after watching touchstone hopping around on one leg； the other trapped in too…tight leather。
touchstone nodded； divested himself of the trousers； and clambered up through the hole； taking care to keep as far away from mogget as possible。 halfway up； he paused； arms braced on either side of the gap。
“you won’t tell her？” he asked。
“tell who？ tell what？”
“abhorsen。 please； i’ll do all i can to help。 but it wasn’t intentional。 my part； i mean。 please； don’t tell her—”
“spare me the pleadings；” said mogget； in a disgusted tone。 “i can’t tell her。 you can’t tell her。
the corruption is wide and the spell rather indiscriminatory。
hurry up—she’ll be back soon。 i’ll tell you the rest of our current saga while you dress。”
sabriel returned from the spring feeling healthier； cleaner and happier。 she’d slept well and the morning’s ablutions had cleared off the blood。
the bruises； swellings and sunburn had all responded well to her herbal treatments。 all in all； she felt about eighty percent normal； rather than ten percent functional； and she was looking forward to having some pany at breakfast other than the sardonic mogget。 not that he didn’t have his uses； such as guarding unconscious or sleeping humans。 he’d also assured her that he had tested the charter mark on the figurehead…man； finding him to be unsullied by free magic； or necromancy。
she’d expected the man to still be asleep； so she felt a faint frisson of surprise and suspense when she saw a figure standing by the ship’s bow； facing the other way。 for a second； her hand twitched to her sword； then she saw mogget nearby； precariously draped on the ship’s rail。
she approached nervously； her curiosity tempered by the need to be wary of strangers。 he looked different dressed。 older and somewhat intimidating； particularly since he seemed to have scorned her plain clothing for a kilt of gold…striped red； with matching leggings of redstriped gold； disappearing into turned…down thigh boots of russet doeskin。 he was wearing her shirt； though； and preparing to put on a red leather jerkin。 it had detachable； lace…up sleeves； which seemed to be giving him some problems。
two swords lay in three…quarter scabbards near his feet； stabbing points shining four inches out of the leather。 a wide belt with the appropriate hooks already encircled his waist。
“curse these laces；” he said； when she was about ten paces away。 a nice voice； quite deep； but currently frustrated and peaking with temper。
“good morning；” said sabriel。
he whirled around； dropping the sleeves； almost ducking to his swords； before recovering to transform the motion into a bow； culminating in a descent to one knee。
“good morning； milady；” he said huskily； head bowed； carefully not meeting her gaze。 she saw that he’d found some earrings； large gold hoops clumsily pushed through pierced lobes； for they were bloodied。 apart from them； all she could see was the top of his curly…haired head。
“i’m not ‘milady；’” said sabriel； wondering which of miss prionte’s etiquette principles applied to this situation。 “my name is sabriel。”
“sabriel？ but you are the abhorsen；” the man said slowly。 he didn’t sound overly bright； sabriel thought； with sinking expectations。
perhaps there would be very little conversation at breakfast after all。
“no； my father is the abhorsen；” she said； with a stern look at mogget； warning him not to interfere。 “i’m a sort of stand…in。 it’s a bit plicated； so i’ll explain later。 what’s your name？”
he hesitated； then mumbled； “i can’t remember； milady。 please； call me 。 。 。 call me touchstone。”
“touchstone？” asked sabriel。 that sounded familiar； but she couldn’t place it for a moment。
“touchstone？ but that’s a jester’s name； a fool’s name。 why call you that？”
“that’s what i am；” he said dully； without inflection。
“well； i have to call you something；” sabriel continued。 “touchstone。 you know； there is the tradition of a wise fool； so perhaps it’s not so bad。 i guess you think you’re a fool because you’ve been imprisoned as a figurehead—and in death； of course。”
“in death！” exclaimed touchstone。 he looked up and his grey eyes met sabriel’s。 surprisingly； he had a clear； intelligent gaze。 perhaps there is some hope for him after all； she thought； as she explained： “your spirit was somehow preserved just beyond the border of death； and your body preserved as the wooden figurehead。 both necromantic and free magic would have been involved。 very powerful magic； on both counts。
i am curious as to why it was used on you。”
touchstone looked away again； and sabriel sensed a certain shiftiness； or embarrassment。
she guessed that the forthing explanation would be a half…truth； at best。
“i don’t remember very well；” he said； slowly。
“though things are ing back。 i am 。 。 。 i was 。 。 。 a guardsman。 the royal guard。 there was some sort of attack upon the queen 。 。 。
an ambush in the—at the bottom of the stairs。
i remember fighting； with blade and charter magic—we were all charter mages； all the guard。 i thought we were safe； but there was treachery 。 。 。 then 。 。 。 i was here。 i don’t know how。”
sabriel listened carefully； wondering how much of what he said was true。 it was likely that his memory was impaired； but he possibly was a roy