‘I am Clariel. Jaciel’s daughter. The Abhorsen’s granddaughter.’
‘A pleasure to meet you,’ said Mogget. ‘It is awfully dull here, and my collar itches me so. Perhaps you would be kind enough to take it off for a few minutes?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Clariel slowly. The Charter marks on the collar were fading now, sinking back into the red leather, but she thought she had recognised at least one master mark of binding. The mere fact she couldn’t recognise any of the others indicated their power. What’s more, the bell was obviously a small version of one of the Abhorsen’s necromantic bells. ‘Why do you say you are a slave?’
‘Bound by magic to serve the Abhorsen till the sun grows cold and dies,’ said Mogget sourly. ‘What else would you call it? If you won’t loosen my collar, can you at least fish?’
‘What do you do for the Abhorsen?’ asked Clariel.
‘I asked you first,’ said Mogget. ‘Can you fish?’
‘Yes,’ replied Clariel. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘I like fish, fresh-caught,’ said Mogget. ‘The sendings rarely give me any. I thought you might –’
‘What do you do for the Abhorsen?’ repeated Clariel.
‘Nothing for the last sixty years or more,’ said Mogget. ‘Tyriel, like his predecessor, hardly ever comes here. Spends all his time riding around that ridiculous Hillfair like an idiot, wreaking havoc on the deer. I haven’t even been taken outside since Feriniel was the Abhorsen, and she was … let’s see … Tyriel’s great-great-uncle’s daughter …’
‘What did you do back then?’
‘Oh, the usual,’ said Mogget slyly, his emerald eyes narrowing. ‘Sage advice, the wisdom of the ages, that sort of thing. Not that many of them listened. What are you doing here?’
‘Being imprisoned,’ said Clariel shortly. ‘Temporarily, if I have anything to do with it.’
‘Tell me more,’ said Mogget encouragingly. He tilted his head in interest, and Clariel had to stop herself from instinctively reaching down to scratch under his chin. As she half extended and then pulled back her hand, Mogget stood up on his hind paws, pink nose sniffing.
‘Interesting …’ he said.
‘What?’ asked Clariel.
‘Oh, the scent of the outside world,’ said Mogget. ‘So you’re a prisoner?’
‘For my own protection, or so I am told,’ said Clariel. She bent down to pick up the dropped book, keeping a careful eye on Mogget. She was trying to remember where she’d heard the name before, or some part of it … and then it came to her. Bel, talking about books in the Abhorsen’s House, and someone called ‘Mog’, his voice trailing off with the name incomplete …
‘Do you know Belatiel?’
‘Ah, the delightfully enthusiastic Bel,’ said Mogget. He was looking at the book, whiskers twitching. ‘So keen, so unencumbered by experience. Yes. He is one of the few members of the extended family who come here, and even then I think he has to sneak away to do it. You are … familiar with Bel?’
‘He’s a friend of mine, if that’s what you mean,’ said Clariel. ‘From Belisaere.’
‘So Belatiel has been in Belisaere,’ said the cat. ‘How appropriate. It has been long since I visited the city. Long indeed. So you come from Belisaere.’
‘Only most immediately, before that I was …’ said Clariel. Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. ‘Why am I telling you anything? I can see you’re a Free Magic creature.’
‘But not the first you’ve met,’ said Mogget slyly. ‘Or held, by the faint trace I discern upon your hands. But have no fear! You’ve seen my collar, proving my … utter faithfulness to the Charter that binds me. I am but a slave of the Abhorsen, currently your grandfather, and thus by extension of you. You have but to command me and I will obey.’
‘You will?’
‘Possibly,’ answered Mogget, yawning to show his very sharp white teeth. ‘It all depends. I do have to obey the Abhorsen and the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, but as neither has given me any orders for such a long time I fear I am out of practice. You could ask me nicely. Promise me a fish.’
‘You can show me the rest of the house to begin with,’ said Clariel. ‘Please.’
‘If we converse along the way,’ said Mogget, ‘that would be acceptable.’
He sidled out of the library, tail high.
‘I suppose we could,’ said Clariel cautiously.
As they wandered upstairs she found herself telling Mogget about her life in Estwael, the move to Belisaere and the events of the last week. But she gave a highly abridged version of her encounter with Aziminil, very light on details, specifically not mentioning her mental conversation with it or how she had let
it go.
‘I know of Kargrin,’ said Mogget, as Clariel looked in the armoury on the second floor. It was very well-stocked, and perfectly clean, but it had an air of disuse. Everything was just too perfectly put away. As with elsewhere in the House, a sending appeared as soon as Clariel entered, this one gesturing at the racks of swords and the stands of bows and spears with what might almost be construed as a beseeching gesture. Clariel shook her head, though she took note of several weapons of interest. If there was any chance of getting away, she would need to be better equipped. There were complete arrays of armour there too, on stands, including a short shirt of gethre plates that looked like it would fit her.
‘What was that about Kargrin?’ she asked Mogget as they left. She hadn’t been paying attention and he’d said something else about the magister.
‘His teacher’s the one to watch for,’ repeated Mogget. ‘The old witch.’
Clariel stopped. ‘Who?’
‘Ader, she calls herself, or did,’ said Mogget. ‘But she was Maderael when she was the Abhorsen.’
‘What!’
‘When she was the Abhorsen,’ said Mogget innocently.
‘But … she’s still alive,’ said Clariel. ‘I thought you only got a new Abhorsen when the old one died …’
‘Ah, the lack of education among you young ones,’ sighed Mogget. ‘Abhorsens can abdicate their authority. The trick is fooling … convincing someone else to take over.’
‘You mean she was the Abhorsen before Tyriel?’
Mogget shook his head and gave out a rather alarming caterwaul-like chuckle.
‘Oh, no, she was one back again, the Abhorsen before Kariniel, almost a hundred years ago.’
Clariel shook her head. ‘She can’t be that old.’
‘Can’t she?’ asked Mogget. ‘Charter Magic can do many things. She was very young when she took the bells, and very young when she gave them back again.’
‘Why?’
Mogget looked away from her and batted at the air with his paw, as if an errant fly was passing.