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g an expert knife…man beheading row after row of chickens and dropping them to flop headless in a box； concentrated on shutting out their bewildered featherbrained experience of death。
beyond the market there was a wide swath of empty ground。 it had obviously been intentionally cleared； first with fire； then with mattock； shovel and bar。 sabriel wondered why； till she saw the aqueduct that ran beyond and parallel to this strip of wasteland。 the city folk who lived in the valley didn’t have an agreement with the dead—their part of the city was bounded by aqueducts； and the dead could no more walk under running water than over it。
the cleared ground was a precaution； allowing the aqueducts to be guarded—and sure enough； sabriel saw a patrol of archers marching atop it； their regularly moving shapes silhouetted； shadow puppets against the sky。 the boy was leading them to a central arch； which rose up through two of the aqueduct’s four tiers； and there were more archers there。
smaller arches continued on each side； supporting the aqueduct’s main channel； but these were heavily overgrown with thornbushes； to prevent unauthorized entry by the living； while the swift water overhead held back the dead。
sabriel drew her boat cloak tight as they passed under the arch； but the guards paid them no more attention than was required to extort a silver penny from touchstone。 they seemed very third…rate—even fourth…rate— soldiers； who were probably more constables and watchkeepers than anything else。 none bore the charter mark； or had any trace of free magic。
beyond the aqueduct； streets wound chaotically from an unevenly paved square； plete with an eccentrically spouting fountain—the water jetted from the ears of a statue； a statue of an impressively crowned man。
“king anstyr the third；” said touchstone； pointing at the fountain。 “he had a strange sense of humor； by all accounts。 i’m glad it’s still there。”
“where are we going？” asked sabriel。 she felt better now that she knew the citizenry weren’t in league with the dead。
“this boy says he knows a good inn；” replied touchstone； indicating the ragged urchin who was grinning just out of reach of the alwaysexpected blow。
“sign of three lemons；” said the boy。 “best in the city； lord； lady。”
he had just turned back from them to go on； when a loud； badly cast bell sounded from somewhere towards the harbor。 it rang three times； the sound sending pigeons racketing into flight from the square。
“what’s that？” asked sabriel。 the boy looked at her； open…mouthed。 “the bell。”
“sunfall；” replied the boy； once he knew what she was asking。 he said it as if stating the blindingly obvious。 “early； i reckon。 must be cloud ing； or somefing。”
“everyone es in when the sunfall bell sounds？” asked sabriel。
“course！” snorted the boy。 “otherwise the haunts or the ghlims get you。”
“i see；” replied sabriel。 “lead on。”
surprisingly； the sign of three lemons was quite a pleasant inn。 a whitewashed building of four storys； it fronted onto a smaller square some two hundred yards from king anstyr’s fountain square。 there were three enormous lemon trees in the middle of the square； somehow thick with pleasant…smelling leaves and copious amounts of fruit； despite the season。 charter magic； thought sabriel； and sure enough； there was a charter stone hidden amongst the trees； and a number of ancient spells of fertility； warmth and bountitude。 sabriel sniffed the lemon…scented air gratefully； thankful that her room had a window fronting the square。
behind her； a maid was filling a tin bath with hot water。 several large buckets had already gone in—this would be the last。 sabriel closed the window and came over to look at the stillsteaming water in anticipation。
“will that be all； miss？” asked the maid； halfcurtseying。
“yes； thank you；” replied sabriel。 the maid edged out the door； and sabriel slid the bar across； before divesting herself of her cloak； and then the stinking； sweat… and salt…encrusted armor and garments that had virtually stuck to her after almost a week at sea。 naked； she rested her sword against the bath’s rim—in easy reach—then sank gratefully into the water； taking up the lump of lemon…scented soap to begin removing the caked grime and sweat。
through the wall； she could hear a man’s— touchstone’s—voice。 then water gurgling； that maid giggling。 sabriel stopped soaping and concentrated on the sound。 it was hard to hear； but there was more giggling； a deep； indistinct male voice； then a loud splash。 like two bodies in a bath rather than one。
there was silence for a while； then more splashing； gasps； giggles—was that touchstone laughing？ then a series of short； sharp； moans。
womanly ones。 sabriel flushed and gritted her teeth at the same time； then quickly lowered her head into the water so she couldn’t hear； leaving only her nose and mouth exposed。 underwater； all was silent； save for the dull booming of her heart； echoing in her flooded ears。
what did it matter？ she didn’t think of touchstone in that way。 sex was the last thing on her mind。 just another plication— contraception—messiness—emotions。 there were enough problems。 concentrate on planning。
think ahead。 it was just because touchstone was the first young man she’d met out of school； that was all。 it was none of her business。 she didn’t even know his real name 。 。 。
a dull tapping noise on the side of the bath made her raise her head out of the water； just in time to hear a very self…satisfied； masculine and drawn…out moan from the other side of the wall。
she was about to stick her head back under； when mogget’s pink nose appeared on the rim。
so she sat up； water cascading down her face； hiding the tears she told herself weren’t there。
angrily； she crossed her arms across her breasts and said； “what do you want？”
“i just thought that you might like to know that touchstone’s room is that way；” said mogget； indicating the silent room opposite the one with the noisy couple。 “it hasn’t got a bathtub； so he’d like to know if he can use yours when you’re finished。 he’s waiting downstairs in the meantim