Sabriel found the first dead Aierran soldier about six miles from the Wall, in the last, fading hours of the afternoon.
The hill she thought was Clove was a mile or two to the north. She』d stopped to look at its dark bulk, rising rocky and treeless from the snow-cround, its peak temporarily hidden in one of the light, puffy clouds that occasionally let forth a shower of snow or sleet.
If she hadn』t stopped, she would probably have missed the frosted-white hand that peeked out of a drift oher side of the road. But as soon as she saw that, her attention focused and Sabriel felt the familiar pang of death.
Crossing over, her skis clag on bare stone in the middle of the road, she bent down aly brushed the snow away.
The hand beloo a young man, who wore a standard-issue coat of mail over an Aierran uniform of khaki serge. He was blond and grey-eyed, and Sabriel thought he had been surprised, for there was no fear in his frozen expression. She touched his forehead with one finger, closed his sightless eyes, and laid two fingers against his open mouth. He had beewelve days, she felt. There were no obvious signs as to what had killed him. To learn more than that, she would have to follow the young man into Death. Even after twelve days, it was unlikely he had gone further than the Fate. Even so, Sabriel had a strong disination to ehe realm of the dead until she absolutely had to. Whatever had trapped—or killed—her father could easily be waiting to ambush her there. This dead soldier could even be a lure.
Quashing her natural curiosity to find out exactly what had happened, Sabriel folded the man』s arms across his chest, after first ung the grip that his right hand still had on his sword hilt—perhaps he had not been taken totally unawares after all. Theood and drew the Charter marks of fire, sing, peace and sleep in the air above the corpse, while whispering the sounds of those same marks. It was a litany that every Charter Mage knew, and it had the usual effect. A glowing ember sparked up between the man』s folded arms, multiplied into many stabbing, darting flames, then fire whooshed the full length of the body. Seds later it was out and only ash remained, ash staining a corselet of blaed mail.
Sabriel took the soldier』s sword from the pile of ashes and thrust it through the melted snow, into the dark earth beh. It stuck fast, upright, the hilt casting a shadow like a cross upon the ashes. Something glinted in the shadow and, belatedly, Sabriel remembered that the soldier would have worn ay disc .
Shifting her skis again to rebalance she bent down and hooked the of the identity dis one finger, pulling it up to read the name of the man who had met his end here, alone in the snow. But both the and disc were maemade in Aierre and so uo withstand the Charter Magic fire. The disc crumbled into ash as Sabriel raised it to eye level and the fell into its po links, p between Sabriel』s fingers like small steel s.
「Perhaps they』ll know you from your sword,」
said Sabriel. Her voice sourange in the quiet of the snowy wilderness and, behind each word, her breath rolled out like a small, wet fog.
「Travel withret,」 she added. 「Do not look back.」
Sabriel took her own advice as she skied away.
There was an ay in her now that had been mostly academic before and every sense was alert, watchful. She had always been told that the Old Kingdom was dangerous, and the Borderlands he articul