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"Another sinkhole," Mogget said, matter-of-factly "It is where the First Bloodach"

He choked, hissed, and then rephrased his sentence rather drably, with "It is interesting"

"What do you an, but she fell silent as they passed the doorway,at her hair, her hands, her surcoat, the hilt of her sword Mogget’s fur stood on end, and his collar rotated halfway around of its own accord, till the Charter ht against the leather

Then they were out, standing at the bottoht, for the sun was already slipping over the circumscribed horizon of the sinkhole rim

This sinkhole was much wider than the first--perhaps a mile across, and deeper, say six or seven hundred feet Despite its size, the entire vast pit was sealed off fro, web-thin net, which seee into the rim wall about a quarter of the way down froiven it away, but even so, Sabriel had to use her telescope to see the delicate diamond-pattern weave clearly It looked flimsy, but the presence of several dessicated bird-corpses indicated considerable strength Sabriel guessed the unfortunate birds had dived into the net, eyes greedily intent on food below

In the sinkhole itself, there was considerable, if uninspiring vegetation--mostly stunted trees and malformed bushes But Sabriel had little attention to spare for the trees, for in between each of these straggling patches of greenery, there were paved areas--and on each of these paved areas rested a ship

Fourteen open-decked, single-boats, their black sails set to catch a nonexistent wind, oars out to battle an iainst , but Sabriel didn’t need to see theht bear She’d heard of this place, as had every child in the Northern parts of Ancelstierre, close to the Old Kingdom Hundreds of tales of treasure, adventure and roe harbor

"Funerary ships," said Sabriel "Royal ships"

She had further confir spells woven into the very dirt her feet scuffed at the tunnel entrance, spells of final death that could only have been laid by an Abhorsen No necromancer would ever raise any of the ancient rulers of the Old Kingdoround of the Firstckkkthe Kings and Queens of the Old Kingdoet, after some difficulty He danced around Sabriel’s feet, then stood on his hind legs and estures, like a circus impresario in white fur Finally, he shot off into the trees

"Co!" he caroled, as he leaped up and down in time with his words

Sabriel followed at a slower pace, shaking her head and wondering what had happened to et so cheerful She felt bruised, tired and depressed, shaken by the Free Magic

They passed close by two of the ships on their way to the spring Mogget led her a ation of twists, leaps and bounds, but the sides were too high to look in and she didn’t feel like shinning up an oar She did pause to look at the figureheads--i men, one in his forties, the other somewhat older Both were bearded, had the same imperious eyes, and wore armor similar to Sabriel’s, heavily festooned with medallions, chains and other decorations Each held a sword in his right hand, and an unfurling scroll that turned back on itself in their left--the heraldic representation of the Charter

The third ship was different It seemed shorter and less ornate, with a barefro that lay under its stern, she saw uncaulked sea, and realized that it was incomplete

Curious, she dropped her pack by the little pool of bubbling water and walked around to the bow This was different too, for the figurehead was a youngman, carved in perfect detail

Sabriel blushed a little, for it was an exact likeness, as if a young man had been transformed from flesh to wood, and her only prior experience of nad y textbooks His htly curled against his head His hands, well-shaped and elegant, were partly raised, as if to ward off some evil

The detail even extended to a circulanced at in an e back at his face He was not exactly handsoe, with the shocked expression of someone who has been betrayed and only just realized it There was fear there, too, and so like hatred He looked more than a little mad His expression troubled her, for it seemed too human to be the result of a woodcarver’s skill, no matter how talented

"Too life-like," Sabrielto the hilt of her sword, hersome trap or deception

There was no trap, but Sabriel did feel so si sensation that she couldn’t place

Sabriel tried to identify it, while she looked over the figurehead again, carefully exale The man’s body was an intellectual probleers, fingernails and skin, noting how perfectly they were carved, right down to the tiny scars on his hands, the product of sword and dagger practice There was also the faint sign of a baptismal Charter mark on his forehead, and the pale trace of veins on his eyelids