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Five Walks Lirael took with Kibeth.
1.
Imshi’s laughter rang out, while the horrible stink of Free Magic curled in Lirael’s nose.
The Dog barked quietly, a warning to Lirael. ‘I’m glad you’re who you are, Mistress. What kind of Charter Mage can’t recognize Free Magic?’
Hish could ride things in the same way the Greater Dead could - in this case, it was riding the Sending that Imshi was using to assist with the return of some volatile material that needed a live Charter Mage to ward.
Lirael agreed with the Dog - the taste of Free Magic in the back of her throat through was unmistakable. She wasn't sure how Imshi managed to not feel the sting.
They crept closer.
Hish fed on the emotions of their prey, sucking them dry and then devouring their corpse for the last lingering traces of despair. Unlike Stilken, Hish could be killed by someone of her skill, not merely bound. Yet not only was powerful Charter Magic needed to defeat them, but complete calm and -
- Imshi screamed and was abruptly silent.
Lirael and the Dog ran.
Imshi lay crumpled on the floor, books scattered around her. The Sending crouched over her, a sickly green glow leeching into its hands.
Charter Marks flew through Lirael's mind, taking form, but the Dog's bark was faster.
The Hist froze.
The Dog barked again, and this time the order could not be denied. The outer form of the Sending peeled away, scattering loose Marks to reveal the stringy shape of the Hist.
The stench of was now overpowering. Lirael gagged, copper in her mouth.
Calm thoughts, calm thoughts... she released two Master Marks as the Dog barked for a third time, and closed her eyes for a moment as they flared, brighter than even a Master Mark should.
The Hist stumbled back and cried out. Its skin began to boil, writhing as the Marks burrowed deep, light piercing the creature from the inside.
It fell, seized once, and lay still.
Lirael sat, legs dropping out from under her, and panted. A suspicion grew a little further in her mind.
The Dog flopped down next to her and lay her head on Lirael's lap in a mute demand for pats.
'Dog -' she began.
'I'm your friend, Mistress. Always your friend.'
2.
Lirael struggled for breath; hand on bandolier, sword in hand.
‘It seems odd having an Abhorsen-in-Waiting, somehow. I never knew that I had been Abhorsen-in-Waiting until I became the Abhorsen. I had to invent much of my apprenticeship, as you’re going to have to invent yours as a Remembrancer,’ Sabriel said distractedly, fingers of one hand crooked in a spell casting stance, the other grasping Saraneth.
A host of Mordauts had been plaguing the Callibe region and the Great Sickle Wood. The necromancer summoning the Dead had yet to show his or her face. Sabriel had called it ‘a good learning experience’ when the messenger had arrived, while Touchstone had eyed her darkly.
It was a learning experience on many levels. Lirael panted, struggling with each spell. Two Abhorsen with two sets of bells had to work in concert, notes harmonizing. Kibeth and Saraneth, to bind the Dead, and to walk them through to the final gate.
Kibeth had turned in Lirael's hand.
Had Sabriel not been there, Lirael would have been caught in the Second Gate. The leeching effect of the water was not the reason for Lirael's dampened spirits.
'Lirael...' Sabriel dug the point of her sword in the ground for moment, and placed a hand on Lirael's shoulder.
'Lirael, Kibeth is the Walker. It has many different faces, many different sounds. The Dog was your friend, but do not forget that even though Kibeth comes readily to your hand, more readily than others – your Dog was still the Disreputable Dog. It will take time for you to know her in this form.'
The harshness of bells untempered by the Charter sang through the air, and Sabriel raised her sword again.
'Let's go!'
Lirael nodded once, again more firmly and drew Kibeth once more.
3.
Of all the things most difficult about returning to the Glacier, Lirael had not expected that giving up the Dog to be the hardest.
Being back in the Library felt both right and wrong, like a tightness of a burn across her skin, like a binding spell too long held.
As Abhorsen-in-Waiting, carrying the sword she carried, Lirael’s request for an unaccompanied journey into the Library had been uncomfortably granted.
Lirael took a deep breath, and looked around.
The place she had found the dog statue was the same. The same poppies grew in the field of flowers, the wax seals split in the same fashion - everything was the same. It was Lirael who had changed.
The stink of Free Magic had long since dissipated, and the press of the Charter marks in this room of containment were no longer strange, but a comforting reminder of the place she had found as Abhorsen-in-Waiting.
The seven plinths remained, resting on the same black marble table. Lirael shivered and avoided looking down onto the crystal resting place where she had woken the Stilken.
One thing had changed.
Resting on the central pillar was a statue of a snake, eating its own tail. Lirael hesitated.
Rosemary, and amaranth.
She had avoided the well at the Abhorsen’s House, even if it was unlikely that harm should come without venturing into Astarael’s domain. Lirael couldn’t imagine what would bring a representation of the Sorrowful Lady here.
‘I couldn’t imagine Astarael as a friend,’ Lirael said softly to the small soapstone statue in her hands.
She placed the statue of the Dog next to the Snake, and reluctantly stepped away.
4.
The roar of the Fourth Gate sounded, and Lirael lunged, Kibeth in hand.
The Fifth Gate Rester, clawing its way slowly back towards Life, froze, impaled upon Lirael's sword.
'Abhorsen...' hissed the Dead around her, backing slowly away.
The Rester shrieked, spitting burning magic at her. Lirael ducked, withdrew her sword in a swift movement, and severed its head.
In an equally swift move, she sheathed her sword, and drew Ranna.
Lirael focused her will, ringing her bell in a slow figure eight, the trickster bell and the peaceful sleeper calming the Dead and chiming them to their rest.
The butchered Rester, spirit oozing from its form, was as trapped as the lesser Dead around it.
Sabriel had advised her to master the bell that responded most readily to her, just as Sabriel had mastered Ranna above all other bells, and Lirael had.
The Dead would walk as she commanded, to their final home.
Lirael sheathed her bells, and began the long trek back to life.
Kibeth lay quiet in her bandolier.
5.
At the Ninth Gate, Lirael waited, exhausted and holding onto her body through sheer strength of will.
Lirael’s Abhorsen-in-Waiting, Sam’s eldest child, was more than ready, and Ellimere’s granddaughter had already shown aptitude that would see the bells passed to her this day.
It was her time, but not – just – yet.
Lirael waited.
Dead rose around her.
Lirael waited.
And then, the Gate roared and a bark of welcome and regret echoed through the limitless field of light.
Lirael knelt as rapidly as her stiff knees would allow and threw her arms the Dog.
‘I’m glad I got to see you again, one last time.’
‘Mistress,’ said the Dog quietly.
‘You were wrong about one thing, you know. There were other friends, other loves, but there was never another dog,’ Lirael said hoarsely into her fur.
Goodbye again, Lirael said, and with the kiss of her best friend on her cheek, faded into the summer stars.