Grey mist coiling upwards, twining around him like a ging vine, gripping arms and legs, immobilizing, strangling, merciless. So firmly grown about his body there was no possibility of escape, so tight his muscles couldn』t even flex under skin, his eyelids couldn』t blink. And nothing to see but patches of darker grey, crisscrossing his vision like windblown scum upon a fetid pool.
Then, suddenly, fierce red light, pain exploding everywhere, rocketing from toes to brain and back again. The grey mist clearing, mobility returning. Nrey patches, but blurry colors, slowly twisting into focus. A woman, looking down at him, a young woman, armed and armored, her face . . . battered. No, not a woman. The Abhorsen, for she wore the blazon and the bells. But she was too young, not the Abhorsen he knew, or any of the family . . .
「Thank you,」 he said, the words ing out like a mouse creeping from a dusty larder.
「Abhorsen.」
Then he fainted, his body rushing gladly to wele real sleep, true unsciousness and sanity-rest rest.
He awoke under a bla, a a moment』s panic whehick grey wool pressed upon his mouth and eyes. He struggled with it, threw it back with a gasp, and relaxed as he felt fresh air on his fad dim sunlight filtering down from above. He looked up and saw from the reddish hue that it must be soon after dawn. The sinkhole puzzled him for a few seds— disoriented, he felt dizzy and stupid, till he looked at the tall masts all around, the black sails, and the unfinished ship nearby.
「Holehallow,」 he muttered to himself, frowning.
He remembered it now. But what was he doing here? pletely naked under a rough camping bla? He sat up, and shook his head. It was sore and his temples were throbbing, seemingly from the battering-ram effect of a severe hangover. But he felt certain he hadn』t been drinking. The last thing he remembered was going doweps.
Rogir had asked him . . . no . . . the last thing was the fleeting image of a pale, ed face, bloodied and bruised, black hair hanging out in a fringe under her helmet. A deep blue surcoat, with the blazon of silver keys. The Abhorsen.
「She』s washing at the spring,」 said a soft voice, interrupting his faltering recolle. 「She got up before the sun. liness is a wonderful thing.」
The voice did not seem to belong to anything visible, till the man looked up at the nearby ship.
There was a large, irregular hole in the bow, where the figurehead should have been and a white cat was curled up in the hole, watg him with an unnaturally sharp, green-eyed gaze.
「What are you?」 said the man, his eyes cautiously flickering from side to side, looking for a on. A pile of clothes was the only thing nearby, taining a shirt, trousers and some underwear, but it was weighted down with a largish rock. His hand sidled out towards the rock.
「Don』t be alarmed,」 said the cat. 「I』m but a faithful retainer of the Abhorsen. Name of Mogget. For the moment.」
The man』s hand closed on the rock, but he didn』t lift it. Memories were slowly sidling back to his benumbed mind, drawn like grains of iron to a maghere were memories of various Abhorsens among them—memories that gave him an inkling of what this cat-creature was.
「You were bigger when we last met,」 he hazarded, testing his guess.
「Have we met?」 replied Mogget, yawning.
「Dear me. I 』t recall it. What was the name?」
A good question, thought the man. He couldn』t remember. He