Sabriel (The Abhorsen Trilogy)-第33章

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most　looked　at　sabriel　and　she　saw　hope　in　their　eyes。　not　blind　faith；　or　plete　confidence；　but　a　gambler’s　hope　that　a　new　horse　might　change　a　run　of　losses。

“the　abhorsen　who　came　when　i　was　young；”

the　elder　continued—and　sabriel　saw　that　at　his　　age；　this　would　be　his　memory　alone；　of　all　the　villagers—“this　abhorsen　told　me　that　it　was　his　purpose　to　slay　the　dead。　he　saved　us　from　the　haunts　that　came　in　the　merchant’s　caravan。　is　it　still　the　same；　lady？　will　abhorsen　save　us　from　the　dead？”

sabriel　thought　for　a　moment；　her　mind　mentally　flicking　through　the　pages　of　the　book　of　the　dead；　feeling　it　stir　in　the　backpack　that　sat　by　her　feet。　her　thoughts　strayed　to　her　father；　the　forthing　journey　to　belisaere；　the　way　in　which　dead　enemies　seemed　to　be　arrayed　against　her　by　some　controlling　mind。

“i　will　ensure　this　island　is　free　of　the　dead；”

she　said　at　last；　speaking　clearly　so　all　could　hear　her。　“but　i　cannot　free　the　mainland　village。

there　is　a　greater　evil　at　work　in　the　kingdom—that　same　evil　that　has　broken　your　charter　stone—and　i　must　find　and　defeat　it　as　soon　as　i　can。　when　that　is　done；　i　will　return—　i　hope　with　other　help—and　both　village　and　charter　stone　will　be　restored。”

“we　understand；”　replied　the　elder。　he　seemed　saddened；　but　philosophic。　he　continued；　speaking　more　to　his　people　than　to　　sabriel。　“we　can　survive　here。　there　is　the　spring；　and　the　fish。　we　have　boats。　if　callibe　has　not　fallen　to　the　dead；　we　can　trade；　for　vegetables　and　other　stuffs。”

“you　will　have　to　keep　watching　the　breakwater；”

touchstone　said。　he　stood　behind　sabriel’s　chair；　the　very　image　of　a　stern　bodyguard。

“the　dead—or　their　living　slaves—　may　try　to　fill　it　in　with　stones；　or　push　across　a　bridge。　they　can　cross　running　water　by　building　bridges　of　boxed　grave　dirt。”

“so；　we　are　besieged；”　said　a　man　to　the　front　of　the　mass　of　villagers。　“but　what　of　this　dead　thing　already　here　on　the　island；　already　preying　upon　us？　how　will　you　find　it？”

silence　fell　as　the　questioner　spoke；　for　this　was　the　one　answer　everyone　wanted　to　hear。　rain　sounded　loud　on　the　roof　in　the　absence　of　human　speech；　steady　rain；　as　had　been　falling　since　late　afternoon。　the　dead　disliked　the　rain；　sabriel　thought　inconsequentially；　as　she　considered　this　question。　rain　didn’t　destroy；　but　it　hurt　and　irritated　the　dead。　wherever　the　dead　thing　was　on　the　island；　it　would　be　out　of　the　rain。

she　stood　up　with　that　thought。　thirty…one　pairs　of　eyes　watched　her；　hardly　blinking；　despite　　the　cloying　smoke　from　too　many　lanterns；　candles　and　tapers。　touchstone　watched　the　villagers；　mogget　watched　a　piece　of　fish；　sabriel　closed　her　eyes；　questing　outward　with　other　senses；　trying　to　feel　the　presence　of　the　dead。

it　was　there—a　faint；　concealed　emanation；　like　an　untraceable　whiff　of　something　rotten。

sabriel　concentrated　on　it；　followed　it；　and　found　it；　right　there　in　the　shed。　the　dead　was　somehow　hiding　among　the　villagers。

she　opened　her　eyes　slowly；　looking　straight　at　the　point　where　her　senses　told　her　the　dead　creature　lurked。　she　saw　a　fisherman；　middleaged；　his　salt…etched　face　red　under　sun…bleached　hair。　he　seemed　no　different　than　the　others　around　him；　listening　intently　for　her　reply；　but　there　was　definitely　something　dead　in　him；　or　very　close　by。　he　was　wearing　a　boat　cloak；　which　seemed　odd；　since　the　smoking　shed　was　hot　from　massed　humanity　and　the　many　lights。

“tell　me；”　sabriel　said。　“did　anyone　bring　a　large　box　with　them　out　to　the　island？　something；　say；　an　arm…span　square　a　side；　or　larger？　it　would　be　heavy—with　grave　dirt。”

murmurs　and　enquiries　met　this　question；　neighbors　turning　to　each　other；　with　little　　flowerings　of　fear　and　suspicion。　as　they　talked；　sabriel　walked　out　through　them；　surreptitiously　loosening　her　sword；　signaling　touchstone　to　stay　close　by　her。　he　followed　her；　eyes　flickering　across　the　little　groups　of　villagers。　mogget；　glancing　up　from　his　fish；　stretched　and　lazily　stalked　behind　touchstone’s　heels；　after　a　warning　glare　at　the　two　cats　who　were　eyeing　the　half…consumed　head　and　tail　of　his　fishy　repast。

careful　not　to　alarm　her　quarry；　sabriel　took　a　zigzag　path　through　the　shed；　listening　to　the　villagers　with　studied　attention；　though　the　blond　fisherman　never　left　the　corner　of　her　eye。　he　was　deep　in　discussion　with　another　man；　who　seemed　to　be　growing　more　suspicious　by　the　second。

closer　now；　sabriel　was　sure　that　the　fisherman　was　a　vassal　of　the　dead。　technically；　he　was　still　alive；　but　a　dead　spirit　had　suppressed　his　will；　riding　on　his　flesh　like　some　shadowy　stringpuller；　using　his　body　as　a　puppet。　something　highly　unpleasant　would　be　half…submerged　in　his　back；　under　the　boat　cloak。　mordaut；　they　were　called；　sabriel　remembered。　a　whole　page　was　devoted　to　these　parasitical　spirits　in　the　book　of　　the　dead。　they　liked　to　keep　a　primary　host　alive；　slipping　off　at　night　to　sate　their　hunger　from　other　living　prey—like　children。

“i’m　sure　i　saw　you　with　a　box　like　that；　patar；”　the　suspicious　fisherman　was　saying。　“jall　stowart　helped　you　get　it　ashore。　hey；　jall！”

he　shouted　that　last；　turning　to　look　at　someone　else　across　the　room。　in　that　instant；　the　dead…ridden　patar　exploded　into　action；　clubbing　his　questioner　with　both　forearms；　knocking　him　aside；　running　to　the　door　with　the　silent　ferocity　of　a　battering　ram。

but　sabriel　had　expected　that。　she　stood　before　him；　sword　at　the　ready；　her　left　hand　drawing　ranna；　the　sweet　sleeper；　from　the　bandolier。

she　still　hoped　to　save　the　man；　by　quelling　the　mordaut。

patar　slid　to　a　halt　and　half…turned；　but　touchstone　was　there　behind　him；　twin　swords　glowing　eerily　with　shifting　charter　marks　and　silver　flames。　sabriel　eyed　the　blades　in　surprise；　she　hadn’t　known　they　were　spelled。　past　time　she　asked；　she　realized。

then　ranna　was　free　in　her　hand—but　the　mordaut　didn’t　wait　for　the　unavoidable　lullaby。

patar　suddenly　screamed；　and　stood　rigid；　the　　redness　draining　from　his　face；　to　be　replaced　by　grey。　then　his　flesh　crumpled　and　fell　apart；　even　his　bones　flaking　away　to　soggy　ash　as　the　mordaut　sucked　all　the　life　out　of　him　in　one　voracious　instant。　newly　fed　and　strengthened；　the　dead　slid　out　from　the　falling　cloak；　a　pool　of　squelching　darkness。　it　took　shape　as　it　moved；　being　a　large；　disgustingly　elongated　sort　of　rat。　quicker　than　any　natural　rat；　it　scuttled　towards　a　hole　in　the　wall　and　escape！　sabriel　lunged；　her　blade　striking　chips　from　the　floor　planks；　missing　the　shadowy　form　by　a　scant　instant。

touchstone　didn’t　miss。　his　right…hand　sword　sheared　through　the　creature　just　behind　the　head；　the　left…wielded　blade　impaling　its　sinuous　midsection。

pinned　to　the　floor；　the　creature　writhed　and　arched；　its　shadow…stuff　working　away　from　the　blades。　it　was　remaking　its　body；　escaping　the　trap。

quickly；　sabriel　stood　over　it；　ranna　sounding　in　her　hand；　sweet；　lazy　tone　echoing　out　into　the　shed。

before　the　echoes　died；　the　mordaut　ceased　to　writhe。　form　half…lost　by　its　shifting　from　the　swords；　it　lay　like　a　lump　of　charred　liver；　　quivering　on　the　floor；　still　impaled。

sabriel　replaced　ranna；　and　drew　the　eager　saraneth。　its　forceful　voice　snapped　out；　sound　weaving　a　net　of　domination　over　the　foul　creature。　the　mordaut　made　no　effort　to　resist；　even　to　make　a　mouth　to　whine　its　cause。　sabriel　felt　it　succumb　to　her　will；　via　the　medium　of　saraneth。

she　put　the　bell　back；　but　hesitated　as　her　hand　fell　on　kibeth。　sleeper　and　master　had　spoken　well；　but　walker　sometimes　had　its　own　ideas；　and　it　was　stirring　suspiciously　under　her　hand。

best　to　wait　a　moment；　to　calm　herself；　sabriel　thought；　taking　her　hand　away　from　the　bandolier。

she　sheathed　her　sword；　and　looked　around　the　shed。　to　her　surprise；　everyone　except　touchstone　and　mogget　was　asleep。　they　had　only　caught　the　echoes　of　ranna；　which　shouldn’t　have　been　enough。　of　course；　ranna　could　be　tricksome　too；　but　its　trickery　was　far　less　troublesome。

“this　is　a　mordaut；”　she　said　to　touchstone；　who　was　stifling　a　half…born　yawn。　“a　weak　spirit；　catalogued　as　one　of　the　lesser　dead。　they　like　to　ride　with　the　living—cohabiting　the　body　to　some　extent；　directing　it；　and　slowly　sipping　　the　spirit　away。　it　makes　them　hard　to　find。”

“what　do　we　do　with　it　now？”　asked　touchstone；　eyeing　the　quivering　lump　of　shadow　with　distaste。　it　clearly　couldn’t　be　cut　up；　consumed　by　fire；　or　anything　else　he　could　think　of。

“i　will　banish　it；　send　it　back　to　die　a　true　death；”　replied　sabriel。　slowly；　she　drew　kibeth；　using　both　hands。　she　still　felt　uneasy；　for　the　bell　was　twisting　in　her　grasp；　trying　to　sound　of　its　own　accord；　a　sound　that　would　make　her　walk　in　death。

she　gripped　it　harder　and　rang　the　orthodox　backwards；　forwards　and　figure　eight　her　father　had　taught　her。　kibeth’s　voice　rang　out；　singing　a　merry　tune；　a　capering　jig　that　almost　had　sabriel’s　feet　jumping　too；　till　she　forced　herself　to　be　absolutely　still。

the　mordaut　had　no　such　free　will。　for　a　moment；　touchstone　thought　it　was　getting　away；　the　shadow　form　suddenly　leaping　upwards；　unreal　flesh　slipping　up