Sabriel (The Abhorsen Trilogy)-第20章

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　and　adjusted　the　drape　with　a　practiced　motion。　sabriel　ran　her　hand　over　its　silken　expanse　and　discreetly　tried　to　rip　　it　in　one　corner；　but；　for　all　its　apparent　fragility；　it　wouldn’t　tear。

last　of　all　came　sword…belt　and　bell…bandolier。

the　sendings　brought　them　to　her；　but　made　no　attempt　to　put　them　on。　sabriel　adjusted　them　herself；　carefully　arranging　bells　and　scabbard；　feeling　the　familiar　weight—bells　across　her　breast　and　sword　balanced　on　her　hip。　she　turned　to　the　mirror　and　looked　at　her　reflection；　both　pleased　and　troubled　by　what　she　saw。　she　looked　petent；　professional；　a　traveler　who　could　look　after　herself。　at　the　same　time；　she　looked　less　like　someone　called　sabriel；　and　more　like　the　abhorsen；　capital　letter　and　all。

she　would　have　looked　longer；　but　the　sendings　tugged　at　her　sleeves　and　directed　her　attention　to　the　bed。　a　leather　backpack　lay　open　on　it　and；　as　sabriel　watched；　the　sendings　packed　it　with　her　remaining　old　clothes；　including　her　father’s　oilskin；　spare　undergarments；　tunic　and　trousers；　dried　beef　and　biscuits；　a　water　bottle；　and　several　small　leather　pouches　full　of　useful　things；　each　of　which　were　painstakingly　opened　and　shown　to　her：　telescope；　sulphur　matches；　clockwork　firestarter；　medicinal　herbs；　fishing　hooks　and　line；　a　sewing　kit　and　a　host　of　other　　small　essentials。　the　three　books　from　the　library　and　the　map　went　into　oilskin　pouches；　and　then　into　an　outside　pocket。

backpack　on；　sabriel　tried　a　few　basic　exercises；　and　was　relieved　to　find　that　the　armor　didn’t　restrict　her　too　much—hardly　at　all　in　fact；　though　the　pack　was　not　something　she’d　like　to　have　on　in　a　fight。　she　could　even　touch　her　toes；　so　she　did；　several　times；　before　straightening　up　to　thank　the　sendings。

they　were　gone。　instead；　there　was　mogget；　stalking　mysteriously　towards　her　from　the　middle　of　the　room。

“well；　i’m　ready；”　sabriel　said。

mogget　didn’t　answer；　but　sat　at　her　feet；　and　made　a　movement　that　looked　very　much　like　he　was　going　to　be　sick。　sabriel　recoiled；　disgusted；　then　halted；　as　a　small　metallic　object　fell　from　mogget’s　mouth　and　bounced　on　the　floor。

“almost　forgot；”　said　mogget。　“you’ll　need　this　if　i’m　to　e　with　you。”

“what　is　it？”　asked　sabriel；　bending　down　to　pick　up　a　ring；　a　small　silver　ring；　with　a　ruby　gripped　between　two　silver　claws　that　grew　out　of　the　band。

“old；”　replied　mogget；　enigmatically。　“you’ll　　know　if　you　need　to　use　it。　put　it　on。”

sabriel　looked　at　it　closely；　holding　it　between　two　fingers　as　she　slanted　it　towards　the　light。　it　felt；　and　looked；　quite　ordinary。　there　were　no　charter　marks　on　the　stone　or　band；　it　seemed　to　have　no　emanations　or　aura。　she　put　it　on。

it　felt　cold　as　it　slipped　down　her　finger；　then　hot；　and　suddenly　she　was　falling；　falling　into　infinity；　into　a　void　that　had　no　end　and　no　beginning。　everything　was　gone；　all　light；　all　substance。　then　charter　marks　suddenly　exploded　all　around　her　and　she　felt　gripped　by　them；　halting　her　headlong　fall　into　nothing；　accelerating　her　back　up；　back　into　her　body；　back　to　the　world　of　life　and　death。

“free　magic；”　sabriel　said；　looking　down　at　the　ring　gleaming　on　her　finger。　“free　magic；　connected　to　the　charter。　i　don’t　understand。”

“you’ll　know　if　you　need　to　use　it；”　mogget　repeated；　almost　as　if　it　were　some　lesson　to　be　learned　by　rote。　then；　in　his　normal　voice：　“don’t　worry　about　it　till　then。　e—the　paperwing　is　ready。”

．。



chapter　xi

　　
the　paperwing　sat　on　a　juryrigged　platform　of　freshly　sawn　pine　planks；　teetering　out　over　the　eastern　wall。　siendings　clustered　around　the　craft；　readying　it　for　flight。

sabriel　looked　up　at　it　as　she　climbed　the　stairs；　an　unpleasant　feeling　rising　with　her。　she　had　been　expecting　something　similar　to　the　aircraft　that　had　begun　to　be　mon　in　ancelstierre；　like　the　biplane　that　had　performed　aerobatics　at　the　last　wyverley　college　open　day。

something　with　two　wings；　rigging　and　a　propeller—　though　she　had　assumed　a　magical　engine　rather　than　a　mechanical　one。

but　the　paperwing　didn’t　look　anything　like　an　ancelstierran　airplane。　it　most　closely　resembled　a　canoe　with　hawk…wings　and　a　tail。　on　closer　inspection；　sabriel　saw　that　the　central　fuselage　was　probably　based　on　a　canoe。　it　was　tapered　at　each　end　and　had　a　central　hole　for　a　cockpit。

wings　sprouted　on　each　side　of　this　canoe　shape—long；　swept…back　wings　that　looked　very　flimsy。　the　wedge…shaped　tail　didn’t　look　much　better。

sabriel　climbed　the　last　few　steps　with　sinking　expectations。　the　construction　material　was　now　clear　and　so　was　the　craft’s　name—the　whole　thing　was　made　up　from　many　sheets　of　paper；　bonded　together　with　some　sort　of　laminate。

painted　powder…blue；　with　silver　bands　around　the　fuselage　and　silver　stripes　along　the　wings　and　tail；　it　looked　pretty；　decorative　and　not　at　all　airworthy。

only　the　yellow　falcon　eyes　painted　on　its　pointed　prow　hinted　at　its　capacity　for　flight。

sabriel　looked　at　the　paperwing　again；　and　then　out　at　the　waterfall　beyond。　now；　fed　by　floodwaters；　it　looked　even　more　frightening　than　usual。　spray　exploded　for　tens　of　yards　above　its　lip—a　roaring　mist　the　paperwing　would　have　to　fly　through　before　it　reached　the　open　sky　beyond。　sabriel　didn’t　even　know　if　it　was　waterproof。

“how　often　has　this　。　。　。　thing　。　。　。　flown　before？”　she　asked；　nervously。　intellectually；　she　accepted　that　she　would　soon　be　sitting　in　this　craft；　to　be　launched　out　towards　the　crashing　waters—but　her　subconscious；　and　her　stomach；　seemed　very　keen　to　stay　firmly　on　the　ground。

“many　times；”　replied　mogget；　easily　jumping　from　the　platform　to　the　cockpit。　his　voice　echoed　there　for　a　moment；　till　he　climbed　back　up；　furry　cat…face　propped　on　the　rim。　“the　abhorsen　who　made　it　once　flew　it　to　the　sea　and　back；　in　a　single　afternoon。　but　she　was　a　great　weather…witch　and　could　work　the　winds。　i　don’t　suppose—”

“no；”　said　sabriel；　made　aware　of　another　gap　in　her　education。　she　knew　that　wind…magic　was　largely　whistled　charter　marks；　but　that　was　all。

“no。　i　can’t。”

“well；”　continued　mogget；　after　a　thoughtful　pause；　“the　paperwing　does　have　some　elementary　charms　to　ride　the　wind。　you’ll　have　to　whistle　them；　though。　you　can　whistle；　i　trust？”

sabriel　ignored　him。　all　necromancers　had　to　be　musical；　had　to　be　able　to　whistle；　to　hum；　to　sing。

if　they　were　caught　in　death　without　bells；　or　other　magical　instruments；　their　vocal　skills　were　a　weapon　of　last　recourse。

a　sending　came　and　took　her　pack；　helping　her　to　wrestle　it　off；　then　stowing　it　at　the　rear　of　the　cockpit。　another　took　sabriel’s　arm　and　directed　her　to　what　appeared　to　be　a　leather　halfhammock　strung　across　the　cockpit—obviously　the　pilot’s　seat。　it　didn’t　look　terribly　safe　either；　but　sabriel　forced　herself　to　climb　in；　after　giving　her　scabbarded　sword　into　the　hands　of　yet　another　sending。

surprisingly；　her　feet　didn’t　go　through　the　paper…laminated　floor。　the　material　even　felt　reassuringly　solid　and；　after　a　minute　of　squirming；　swaying　and　adjustment；　the　hammock…seat　was　very　fortable。　sword　and　scabbard　were　slid　into　a　receptacle　at　her　side　and　mogget　took　up　a　position　on　top　of　the　straps　holding　down　her　pack；　just　behind　her　shoulders；　for　the　seat　made　her　recline　so　far　she　was　almost　lying　down。

from　her　new　eye　level；　sabriel　saw　a　small；　oval　mirror　of　silvered　glass；　fixed　just　below　the　cockpit　rim。　it　glittered　in　the　late　afternoon　sun；　and　she　felt　it　resonate　with　charter　magic。

something　about　it　prompted　her　to　breathe　upon　it；　her　hot　breath　clouding　the　glass。　it　stayed　misted　for　a　moment；　then　a　charter　mark　slowly　appeared；　as　if　a　ghostly　finger　was　　drawn　across　the　clouded　mirror。

sabriel　studied　it　carefully；　absorbing　its　purpose　and　effect。　it　told　her　of　the　marks　that　would　follow；　marks　to　raise　the　lifting　winds；　marks　for　descending　in　haste；　marks　to　call　the　wind　from　every　corner　of　the　pass　rose。

there　were　other　marks　for　the　paperwing　and；　as　sabriel　absorbed　them；　she　saw　that　the　whole　craft　was　lined　with　charter　magic；　infused　with　spells。　the　abhorsen　who　made　it　had　labored　long；　and　with　love；　to　create　something　that　was　more　like　a　magical　bird　than　an　aircraft。

time　passed；　and　the　last　mark　faded。　the　mirror　cleared　to　be　only　a　plate　of　silver　glass　shining　in　the　sun。　sabriel　sat；　silent；　fixing　the　charter　marks　in　her　memory；　marveling　at　the　power　and　the　skill　that　had　made　the　paperwing　and　had　thought　of　this　method　of　instruction。　perhaps　one　day；　she　too　would　have　the　mastery　to　create　such　a　thing。

“the　abhorsen　who　made　this；”　sabriel　asked。

“who　was　she？　i　mean；　in　relation　to　me？”

“a　cousin；”　purred　mogget；　close　to　her　ear。

“your　great…great…great…great…grandmother’s　cousin。

the　last　of　that　line。　she　had　no　children。”

maybe　the　paperwing　was　her　child；　sabriel　　thought；　running　her　hand　along　the　sleek　surface　of　the　fuselage；　feeling　the　charter　marks　quiescent　in　the　fabric。　she　felt　a　lot　better　about　their　forthing　flight。

“we’d　best　hurry；”　mogget　continued。　“it　will　be　dark　all　too　soon。　do　you　have　the　m