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I’m sure I’ll be fine by myself.”
    Lirael wasn’t entirely sure she would be fine. But she did know she needed to get away for a while, to be kept busy, to escape the long nights in her chambers in the palace, grieving for the Dog. A grief made worse by the fact that she knew the Dog would be cross with her for this and would probably have bitten her to stop her feeling sorry for herself.
    â€œYou’d better stop at Barhedrin and pick up a troop of the Guard,” said Ellimere. She turned about and started back down the stairs. “I’ll write a letter to the captain there; they can accompany you to the Wall and make sure you get an escort from the Perimeter garrison to go with you farther south. I’d better let the consulate in Bain know as well; they can send some people north to meet you. Bodyguards, with guns and so forth. Oh, and the embassy in Corvere will need to be informed.”
    â€œI thought I’d go to Wyverley College first and talk to Magistrix Coelle, to see if she knows more,” said Lirael. She felt rather like a horse who has convinced another to bolt from a corral but can’t keepup. Ellimere was now even more enthusiastic about the mission than Lirael was herself.
    â€œGood idea, but don’t go past the Wall without an escort,” said Ellimere. “Just in case this is all a trap for Mother, since it could as easily be a trap for you. Those Our Country idiots would be as happy to kill an Abhorsen-in-Waiting as the Abhorsen herself. Do you have everything you need to take?”
    â€œAs much as I can fit in a paperwing,” said Lirael. One of the first things Sabriel had taught her was to be ready to be called upon at all times. The Dead and Free Magic creatures did not wait on the convenience of packing a traveling kit.
    â€œYou settle on a new sword?”
    â€œOne that will serve, for now,” said Lirael. She had also lost her sword Nehima in the binding of Orannis. With the royal armories open to her, she had tried several swords, good weapons of fine steel imbued with Charter marks, but none felt entirely at home in her hand. Sam had said he would make her one, but the hand came first, and in any case it would take him a year or more. But as she had told him, the latest blade she’d tried from the armory was good enough.
    So she had a Charter-spelled sword, her armored coat of gethre plates, and the seven bells of an Abhorsen. Few would dare stand against her, so equipped.
    â€œWhat are you waiting for?”
    â€œI’m not waiting . . . I’m going!” said Lirael. “I mean, I’m talking to you, then I’m going.”
    Ellimere laughed and gave Lirael a quick hug, before taking several quick steps up the stairs toward the mews, pausing there for a few final words.
    â€œYou’re too easy to tease. I’ll come see you off in the paperwing courtyard in half an hour. With a letter for the Barhedrin captain, and I’ll have Mistress Finney send a hawk to Wyverley now. I’ve got a bunch of messages to answer anyway.”
    â€œAnything important?” asked Lirael.
    â€œDon’t think so!” called out Ellimere, once again racing up the stairs. “The Bridge Company reporting some incident with the nomads, a few other things. Routine!”
    But she was wrong. It wasn’t routine trouble with the nomads.

Chapter Three
AN OFFERING TO THE RIVER
    Greenwash River, Northern Bank
    F erin finished tying off the bandage and inspected her handiwork. The quarrel hadn’t gone through her leg as she’d initially feared, instead scoring a deep furrow on the side of her calf just above her ankle. If it had been in the middle and higher up she would probably be already dead, the bone fractured and blood pumping out too fast to stop.
    She’d been lucky, so far at least. But the wound could still turn bad, despite the healing paste she’d liberally smeared on it, hoping to stave