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There was power there to rescue Aunt Lemmin; power to wreak her revenge upon Kilp and Aronzo; power to set the Kingdom to rights.
Only then could she go to the Great Forest, free of all cares …
chapter twenty-six
the path is chosen
Clariel had almost given up on Mogget by the late afternoon, but he popped up around her feet just as she was closing The Fury Within, having read it to the final page. She was thinking deeply about all the things it had told her, of the nature of being a berserk, so she started in surprise when the cat wound himself around her legs.
‘You wanted to see me?’ he said, with a flick of his ears at the ever-present sending who stood silently behind Clariel’s shoulder.
‘I did,’ said Clariel. ‘You took your time.’
‘You were so busy reading I didn’t want to disturb you. Educational, I trust?’
‘I hope so,’ said Clariel. ‘But the more I learn the more I find I need to learn.’
‘Then there is hope for you yet,’ said the cat. ‘I believe you wanted to see the Abhorsen’s study?’
Clariel saw the glint in Mogget’s eye and correctly deduced this was part of his plan to get rid of the eavesdropping sending.
‘I would,’ she said. ‘If I am allowed.’
‘I am a great believer that anything not expressly forbidden is explicitly allowed,’ said Mogget. ‘What did your grandfather tell the sendings when you first arrived?’
Clariel thought for a moment.
‘I think he said I should be treated as his granddaughter and guarded, but not to be allowed to cross the bridge, step into a boat or a Paperwing,’ she said.
‘The sendings are very literal,’ said Mogget. ‘Hmm … “Not allowed to cross the bridge, use a boat or Paperwing.” That was rather lax of Tyriel. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at his ignorance. Follow me.’
Clariel followed the cat into the tower reading room and then up the narrow staircase. The study above was also lined with shelves and many books, but Clariel’s attention was immediately drawn to the one glassed-in cabinet set among them, home to a single book bound in pale green leather with silver clasps. It was as if the book were watching her, as much as she watching it.
Mogget saw her staring.
‘The Book of the Dead,’ he said. ‘Best left alone.’
‘I am an Abhorsen,’ said Clariel. She remembered Bel talking about this book, how it contained the knowledge the Abhorsens needed to enter Death and return, how to wield their seven bells to bind and command the Dead. The book itself was fascinating. It was like she was watching an animal, waiting to see where it would spring, being on guard in case it attacked but also tensed to pursue if it fled. ‘Doesn’t that give me the right to read it?’
‘No,’ said Mogget. ‘You’re one of the family, sure enough, but only the Abhorsen or the Abhorsen-in-Waiting can read that particular book.’
‘Bel told me he read it,’ said Clariel. ‘And he thought Yannael hadn’t, maybe even Tyriel had never read it.’
‘Like I said,’ replied Mogget.
‘What?’ asked Clariel.
‘People seem to have got confused about who’s who and what’s what since I last got let out of this house,’ said Mogget, which didn’t help Clariel at all. ‘Now, you wanted writing materials, I believe?’
‘Um, yes,’ said Clariel. She was still thinking about what the cat had said. ‘But everyone calls Yannael the Abhorsen-in-Waiting … you mean she isn’t?’
‘Everything you need is on the desk,’ said Mogget. ‘Be very careful you don’t spill the ink.’
Clariel looked at the massive redwood desk. Each corner of the tabletop was adorned with intricately carved dragon heads. The dragons all had individual expressions; she could see the character of each of them: melancholy, angry, happy and a fourth had its eyes closed, apparently asleep.
For the first time she wondered if dragons had once really existed. These seemed modelled from life. In the middle of the dragon table there was a silver inkwell, very finely made and old, accompanied by several quill pens, a knife to cut them, a sheaf of paper and a blotter made from the dried sponge she had last seen in quantity, wet, in the fish market of Belisaere.
She pushed one of the high-backed chairs aside and bent down to cut a pen. Inking it, she held it above the paper, while Mogget watched from a safe distance on the other side of the table.
‘Oh no, you’ve got ink on your hand,’ he said, though she didn’t, or at least didn’t yet. ‘Best ask your sending for a wet cloth. Actually a wet cloth and a dry one, and perhaps a small bottle of spirits of hartshorn; that ink is very difficult to shift.’
Clariel spilled some ink on her hand, turned to the sending and repeated Mogget’s request. The sending bowed, and drifted out of the room. As soon as it was gone, Mogget leaped over to Clariel and began to whisper, his whiskers quivering because he was talking so fast.
‘That’ll only get us a few minutes. The ordinary ones aren’t very smart, but if it runs into one of the superior sendings it’ll be here in an instant. Do you still want to escape from the house?’
‘Yes,’ said Clariel. ‘But that’s not all.’
‘What else?’ asked Mogget.
‘I want to know where the silver bottle Tyriel brought has been taken.’
‘Ah-ha!’ cried Mogget. ‘I knew it. I smelt it on you, the lovely tang of Free Magic, and not just because you’re a berserk. Things come together, paths converge –’
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‘What do you mean?’
‘When you held the creature, as Bel says you did, did it tell you its name?’ asked Mogget.
‘Yes,’ said Clariel. ‘Aziminil.’
Mogget’s eyes widened and his mouth curled up in a smile. He got up and circled around three times, tail almost whisking across Clariel’s face.
‘Aziminil, Ziminil, Zimminy-Az,’ he said. ‘Caught in Belisaere, you say. And now Az is here, and not completely put away, and so are you, and you’re a berserk and you want to get out when bridge, boat and Paperwing are barred against you.’
‘What are you talking about?’ demanded Clariel. ‘Quickly!’
Mogget stopped his circling.
‘What I mean is that while there are more ways to leave this house than you might think, there is only one way for you to leave this house that offers a reasonable chance of success, not to mention survival,’ he said. ‘It requires the … assistance … of a Free Magic creature. But how to do this? Charter Mages can only bind such creatures, they cannot make use of them. But you are a berserk, the Free Magic is strong inside you. Tell me, did Aziminil submit to you when you first met?’
‘Something like that,’ said Clariel. ‘She –’
‘She?’ asked Mogget. ‘Clever Aziminil. Go on.’
‘She tried to enter my mind … to bend me to her will. But I went into her mind, and forced her to obey me. Then Kargrin speared her and she would have been trapped, so I … I let her go.’
‘You let her go,’ chuckled Mogget. ‘Let her go. Ah, there is more than mischief to be gained here. Were you in the rage when she surrendered herself to you?’
‘Yes,’ said Clariel. ‘How can Aziminil help me escape? Where is she?’
‘She is down below, where the Abhorsens take their captives and hold them close. She ought to be sunk deeper still, but the sendings only take the prisoners so far. Tyriel should have finished the job, put the bottle out with the rest, but he’s shirked it, as so much else.’
‘How do I use Aziminil to escape?’ asked Clariel. ‘And how can I make sure she doesn’t kill me, or … do whatever Free Magic creatures do to people?’
