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t she could feel the dead。 there were more than she had sensed earlier； or they had grown much stronger。 then； with a sickening feeling； she realized that this strength belonged to a single creature； only now emerging from death； using the broken stone as a portal。 an instant later； she recognized its particular presence。
the mordicant had found her。
“touchstone；” she asked； fighting to keep the shivers from her voice。 “can you sail a boat by night？”
“yes；” replied touchstone； his voice impersonal again； face dark in the rainy night； the lantern…light from the villagers behind him lighting only his back and feet。 he hesitated； as if he shouldn’t be offering an opinion； then added； “but it would be much more dangerous。 i don’t know this coast； and the night is very dark。”
“mogget can see in the dark；” sabriel said quietly； moving closer to touchstone so the villagers couldn’t hear her。
“we have to leave immediately；” she whispered； while pretending to adjust her oilskin。 “a mordicant has e。 the same one that pursued me before。”
“what about the people here？” asked touchstone； so softly the sound of the rain almost washed his words away—but there was the faint sound of reproof under his business…like tone。
“the mordicant is after me；” muttered sabriel。 she could sense it moving away from the stone； questing about； using its otherwordly senses to find her。 “it can feel my presence； as i feel it。 when i go； it will follow。”
“if we stay till morning；” touchstone whispered back； “won’t we be safe？ you said even a mordicant couldn’t cross this gap。”
“i said； ‘i think；’” faltered sabriel。 “it has grown stronger。 i can’t be sure—”
“that thing back in the shed； the mordaut； it wasn’t very difficult to destroy；” touchstone whispered； the confidence of ignorance in his voice。 “is this mordicant much worse？”
“much；” replied sabriel shortly。
the mordicant had stopped moving。 the rain seemed to be dampening both its senses and its desire to find her and slay。 sabriel stared vainly out into the darkness； trying to peer past the sheets of rain； to gain the evidence provided by sight； as well as her necromantic senses。
“riemer；” she said； loudly now； calling to the villager who was in charge of their lanternholders。
he came forward quickly； gingery hair plastered flat on his rounded head； rainwater dripping down from a high forehead to catapult itself off the end of his pudgy nose。
“riemer； have the archers keep very careful watch。 tell them to shoot anything that es onto the breakwater—there is nothing living out there now。 only the dead。 we need to go back and talk to your elder。”
they walked back in silence； save for the sloshing of boots in puddles and the steady finger…applause of the rain。 at least half of sabriel’s attention stayed with the mordicant； a malign； stomachache…inducing presence across the dark water。 she wondered why it was waiting。
waiting for the rain to stop； or perhaps for the now…banished mordaut to attack from within。 whatever its reasons； it gave them a little time to get to a boat； and lead it away。 and perhaps； there was always the chance that it couldn’t cross the breakwater gap。
“what time is low tide？” she asked riemer； as a new thought struck。
“ah； just about an hour before dawn；” replied the fisherman。 “about six hours； if i’m any judge。”
the elder awoke crankily from his second sleep。 he was loath for them to go in the night； though sabriel felt that at least half of his reluctance was due to their need for a boat。 the villagers only had five left。 the others had been sunk in the harbor； drowned and broken by the stones hurled down by the dead； eager to stop the escape of their living prey。
“i’m sorry；” sabriel said again。 “but we must have a boat and we need it now。 there is a terrible dead creature in the village—it tracks like a hunting dog； and the trail it follows is mine。 if i stay； it will try and e here—and； at the ebb； it may be able to cross the gap in the breakwater。
if i go； it will follow。”
“very well；” the elder agreed； mulishly。 “you have cleansed this island for us； a boat is a little thing。 riemer will prepare it with food and water。 riemer！ the abhorsen will have landalin’s boat—make sure it is stocked and seaworthy。 take sails from jaled； if landalin’s is short or rotten。”
“thank you；” said sabriel。 tiredness weighed down on her； tiredness and the weight of awareness。
awareness of her enemies； like a darkness always clouding the edge of her vision。 “we will go now。 my good wishes stay with you； and my hopes for your safety。”
“may the charter preserve us all；” added touchstone； bowing to the old man。 the elder bowed back； a bent； solemn figure； so much smaller than his shadow； looming tall on the wall behind。
sabriel turned to go； but a long line of villagers was forming on the way to the door。 all of them wanted to bow or curtsey before her； to mutter shy thank…yous and farewells。 sabriel accepted them with embarrassment and guilt； remembering patar。 true； she had banished the dead； but another life had been lost in the doing。 her father would not have been so clumsy 。 。 。
the second…to…last person in the line was a little girl； her black hair tied in two plaits； one on either side of her head。 seeing her made sabriel remember something touchstone had said。 she stopped； and took the girl’s hands in her own。
“what is your name； little one？” she asked； smiling。 a feeling of déjà vu swept over her as the small fingers met hers—the memory of a frightened first…grader hesitantly reaching out to the older pupil who would be her guide for the first day at wyverley college。 sabriel had experienced both sides； in her time。
“aline；” said the girl； smiling back。 her eyes were bright and lively； too young to be dimmed by the frightened despair that clouded the adults’ gaze。 a good choice； sabriel thought。
“now； tell me what you have learned in your lessons about the great charter；” sabriel said； adopting the familiar； motherly and generally irrelevant questioning tone of the school inspector who’d descended on every clas