The Perimeter in Aierre ran from coast to coast, parallel to the Wall and perhaps half a mile from it. certina wire lay like worms impaled on rusting steel pickets; forward defenses for an interlog work of trenches and crete pillboxes. Many of these strong points were desigo trol the ground behind them as well as in front, and almost as much barbed wire stretched behind the trenches, guarding the rear.
In fact, the Perimeter was much more successful at keeping people from Aierre out of the Old Kingdom, than it reventing things from the Old Kingdom going the other way.
Anything powerful enough to cross the Wall usually retained enough magic to assume the shape of a soldier; or to bee invisible and simply go where it willed, regardless of barbed wire, bullets, hand grenades and mortar bombs—which often didn』t work at all, particularly when the wind was blowing from the North, out of the Old Kingdom.
Due to the unreliability of teology, the Aierran soldiers of the Perimeter garrison wore mail over their khaki battledress, had nasal and neck bars on their helmets and carried extremely old-fashioned sword-bayos in wellworn scabbards. Shields, or more correctly, 「bucklers, small, Perimeter garrison only,」 were carried on their backs, the factory khaki long since submerged under brightly painted regimental or personal signs. Camouflage was not sidered an issue at this particular posting.
Sabriel watched a platoon of young soldiers march past the bus, while she waited for the tourists ahead of her to stampede out the front door, and wondered what they thought of their straies. Most would have to be scripts from far to the south, where no magic crept over the Wall and widehe cracks in what they thought of as reality. Here, she could feel magic potential brewing, lurking imosphere like charged air before a thuorm.
The Wall itself looked normal enough, past the wasteland of wire and trenches. Just like any other medieval remnant. It was stone and old, about forty feet high and ellated. Nothing remarkable, until the realizatio in that it was in a perfect state of preservation. And for those with the sight, the very stones crawled with Charter marks—marks in stant motion, twisting and turning, sliding and rearranging themselves under a skin of stone.
The final firmation of strangeness lay beyond the Wall. It was clear and cool on the Aierre side, and the sun was shining—but Sabriel could see snow falling steadily behind the Wall, and snow-heavy clouds clustered right up to the Wall, where they suddenly stopped, as if some mighty weather-knife had simply sheared through the sky.
Sabriel watched the snow fall, and gave thanks for her Almanac. Printed by letterpress, the type had left ridges ihick, linen-rich paper, making the many handwritten annotations waver precariously between the lines. One spidery remark, written in a hand she knew wasn』t her father』s, gave the weather to be expected uhe respective dars for each try.
Aierre had 「Autumn. Likely to be cool.」
The Old Kingdom had 「Winter. Bound to be snowing. Skis or snowshoes.」
The last tourist left, eager to reach the observation platform. Although the Army and the Gover disced tourists, and there was no aodation for them withiy miles of the Wall, one busload a day was allowed to e and view the Wall from a tower located well behind the lines of the Perimeter.
Even this cession was often celled, for when the wind blew from the