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it was abhorsen； and he was ing to us； because he’d heard about the dead。
“we escorted him in and he met with the general manding the garrison。 i don’t know what they agreed； but i imagine it was for abhorsen to bind the dead and； in return； he was to be granted citizenship of ancelstierre and freedom to cross the wall。 he certainly had the two passports after that。 in any case； he spent the next few months carving the wind flutes you can see among the wire 。 。 。”
“ah！” exclaimed sabriel。 “i wondered what they were。 wind flutes。 that explains a lot。”
“i’m glad you understand；” said the colonel。 “i still don’t。 for one thing； they make no sound no matter how hard the wind blows through them。 they have charter symbols on them i had never seen before he carved them； and have never seen again anywhere else。 but when he started placing them 。 。 。 one a night 。 。 。 the dead just gradually disappeared； and no new ones rose。”
they reached the far end of the parade ground； where another scarlet sign stood next to a munication trench； proclaiming： “perimeter garrison hq。 call and wait for sentry。”
a telephone handset and a bell…chain proclaimed the usual dichotomy of the perimeter。
colonel horyse picked up the handset； wound the handle； listened for a moment； then replaced it。 frowning； he pulled the bell…chain three times in quick succession。
“anyway；” he continued； as they waited for the sentry。 “whatever it was； it worked。 so we are deeply indebted to abhorsen； and that makes his daughter an honored guest。”
“i may be less honored and more reviled as a messenger of ill omen；” said sabriel quietly。 she hesitated； for it was hard to talk about abhorsen without tears ing to her eyes； then continued quickly； to get it over and done with。 “the reason i am going into the old kingdom is to 。 。 。
to look for my father。 something has happened to him。”
“i had hoped there was another reason for you to carry his sword；” said horyse。 he moved the skis into the crook of his left arm； freeing his right； to return the salute of the two sentries who were running at the double up the munication trench； hobnails clacking on the wooden slats。
“there is worse； i think；” added sabriel； taking a deep breath to stop her voice from breaking into sobs。 “he is trapped in death 。 。 。 or 。 。 。 or he may even be dead。 and his bindings will be broken。”
“the wind flutes？” asked horyse； grounding the end of the skis； his salute dying out halfway to his head。 “all the dead here？”
“the flutes play a song only heard in death；”
replied sabriel； “continuing a binding laid down by abhorsen。 but the bound are tied to him； and the flutes will have no power if 。 。 。 they will have no power if abhorsen is now among the dead。
they will bind no more。”
％％。
chapter III
gxiaoshuowang
“i am not one to blame a messenger for her tidings；” said horyse； as he handed a cup of tea over to sabriel； who was sitting on what looked like the only fortable chair in the dugout which was the colonel’s headquarters； “but you bring the worst news i have heard for many years。”
“at least i am a living messenger 。 。 。 and a friendly one；” sabriel said quietly。 she hadn’t really thought beyond her own concern for her father。 now； she was beginning to expand her knowledge of him； to understand that he was more than just her father； that he was many different things to different people。 her simple image of him—relaxing in the armchair of her study at wyverley college； chatting about her schoolwork； ancelstierre technology； charter magic and necromancy—was a limited view； like a painting that only captured one dimension of the man。
“how long do we have until abhorsen’s bindings are broken？” asked horyse； breaking into sabriel’s remembrance of her father。 the image she had of her father reaching for a teacup in her study disappeared； banished by real tea slopping over in her enamel mug and burning her fingers。
“oh！ excuse me。 i wasn’t thinking 。 。 。 how long till what？”
“the binding of the dead；” the colonel reiterated； patiently。 “how long till the bindings fail； and the dead are free？”
sabriel thought back to her father’s lessons； and the ancient grimoire she’d spent every holiday slowly memorizing。 the book of the dead it was called and parts of it still made her shudder。
it looked innocuous enough； bound in green leather； with tarnished silver clasps。 but if you looked closely； both leather and silver were etched with charter marks。 marks of binding and blinding； closing and imprisonment。 only a trained necromancer could open that book 。 。 。
and only an uncorrupted charter mage could close it。 her father had brought it with him on his visits； and always took it away again at the end。
“it depends；” she said slowly； forcing herself to consider the question objectively； without letting emotion interfere。 she tried to recall the pages that showed the carving of the wind flutes； the chapters on music and the nature of sound in the binding of the dead。 “if father 。 。 。 if abhorsen is 。 。 。 truly dead； the wind flutes will simply fall apart under the light of the next full moon。 if he is trapped before the ninth gate； the binding will continue until the full moon after he passes beyond； or a particularly strong spirit breaks the weakened bonds。”
“so the moon will tell； in time；” said horyse。
“we have fourteen days till it is full。”
“it is possible i could bind the dead anew；”
sabriel said cautiously。 “i mean； i haven’t done it on this sort of scale。 but i know how。 the only thing is； if father isn’t 。 。 。 isn’t beyond the ninth gate； then i need to help him as soon as i can。 and before i can do that； i must get to his house and gather a few things 。 。 。 check some references。”
“how far is this house beyond the wall？” asked horyse； a calculating look on his face。
“i don’t know；” replied sabriel。
“what？”
“i don’t know。 i haven’t been there since i was about four。 i think it’s supposed to be a secret。
father had many enemies； not just among the dead。 petty necromancers； free magic sorcerers； witches—”
“you