“If we get high enough, we should be able to glide over,” said Sabriel. “Though not without a pilot. How many of the girls are taking flying lessons?”

“A dozen perhaps,” said Coelle reluctantly. “I don’t know if any of them can fly alone—”

“I have my solo rating,” interrupted Felicity eagerly. “My father used to fly with Colonel Jorbert in the Corps. I have two hundred hours in our Humbert trainer at home and fifty in the Beskwith here. I’ve done emergency landings, night flying and everything. I can fly you over the Wall.”

“No, you cannot,” said Magistrix Coelle. “I forbid it!”

“These are not ordinary times,” said Sabriel, quelling Coelle with a glance. “We all must do whatever we can. Thank you, Felicity. We accept. Please go and get everything ready, while we get changed into more suitable clothes.”

Felicity let out an excited yell and raced out, her followers close behind. Coelle made a motion as if to restrain her but did not follow through. Instead, she sat down on the closest armchair, took a handkerchief out of her sleeve and wiped her forehead. The Charter mark there glowed faintly as the cloth passed over it.

“She’s a student,” protested Coelle. “What will I tell her parents if... if she doesn’t...”

“I don’t know,” said Sabriel. “I have never known what to tell anybody. Except that it is better to do something than nothing, even if the cost is great.”

She did not look at Coelle as she spoke, but out through the window. In the middle of the lawn there was an obelisk of white marble, twenty feet high. Its sides were carved with many names. They were too small to be read from the window, but Sabriel knew most of the names anyway, even when she had not known the people. The obelisk was a memorial to all those who had fallen on a terrible night nearly twenty years before, when Kerrigor had come across the Wall with a horde of Dead. There were the names of Colonel Horyse, many other soldiers, schoolgirls, teachers, policemen, two cooks, a gardener...

A flash of colour beyond the obelisk caught Sabriel’s eye. A white rabbit ran across the lawn, hotly pursued by a young girl, her pigtails flying as she vainly tried to capture her pet. For a moment Sabriel was lost in time, taken back to another fleeing rabbit, another pigtailed schoolgirl.

Jacinth and Bunny.

Jacinth was one of the names on the obelisk, but the rabbit outside might well be some distant descendant of Bunny. Life did go on, though it was never without struggle.

Sabriel turned away from the window and from the past. The future was what concerned her now. They had to reach Barhedrin within twelve hours. She startled Coelle by ripping off her blue coveralls, revealing that she was naked underneath. When Touchstone began to unbutton his coveralls, Coelle squealed and fled the room.

Sabriel and Touchstone looked at each other and laughed. Just for an instant, before they began to dress rapidly in the clothes from the trunk. Soon they looked and felt like themselves again, in good linen underwear, woollen shirt and leggings, and armoured coats and surcoats. Touchstone had his twin swords, Sabriel her Abhorsen’s blade, and most important of all, she once again wore her bandoleer of bells.

“Ready?” asked Sabriel as she settled the bandoleer across her chest and adjusted the strap.

“Ready,” confirmed Touchstone. “Or as ready as I’m going to get. I hate flying at the best of times, let alone in one of those unreliable Ancelstierran machines.”

“I expect it’s going to be worse than usual,” said Sabriel, “but I don’t think we have any choice.”

“Of course,” sighed Touchstone. “I hesitate to ask – in what particular way will it be worse than usual?”

“Because, unless I miss my guess,” said Sabriel, “Jorbert will have flown his wife out in the two-seater Beskwith. That will leave his single-seater Humbert Twelve. We are going to have to lie on the wings.”

“I am always amazed at what you know,” said Touchstone. “I am at a loss with these machines. All of Jorbert’s flying conveyances looked the same to me.”

“Unfortunately they are not,” said Sabriel. “But there is no other way home that I can think of. Not if we are to make Barhedrin before the end of Anstyr’s Day. Come on!”

She strode out of the room and did not pause to look back to see if Touchstone was following. Of course, he was.

Jorbert’s flying school was a very small affair, not much more than a hobby for the retired Flying Corps colonel. There was a single hangar a hundred yards from his comfortable extended farmhouse. The hangar sat on the corner of Wyverley College’s West Field which, suitably lined with yellow-painted oil drums, served as the runway.

Sabriel was correct about the aeroplane. There was only one, a boxy green single-seater biplane that to Touchstone looked as if it depended far too much on its many supporting struts and wires all holding together.

Felicity, almost unrecognisable in helmet, goggles and fur flying suit, was already in the cockpit. Another girl stood by the propeller, and there were two more crouched by the wheels under the fuselage.

“You’ll have to lie on the wings,” shouted Felicity cheerfully. “I forgot that the Colonel took the Beskwith. Don’t worry, it’s not that difficult. There are handholds. I’ve done it heaps of times... well, twice... and I’ve wing walked too.”

“Handholds,” muttered Touchstone. “Wing walking.”

“Quiet,” ordered Sabriel. “Don’t upset our pilot.”

She climbed nimbly up the left side and laid herself across the wing, taking a secure hold on the two handgrips. Her bells were a nuisance, but she was used to that.

Touchstone climbed less nimbly up the right side – and almost put his foot through the wing. Disturbed to find it was only fabric stretched over a wooden frame, he lay down with extreme care and tugged hard on the handholds. They didn’t come off, as he had half expected they might.

“Ready?” asked Felicity.

“Ready!” shouted Sabriel.

“I suppose so,” muttered Touchstone. Then, much louder, he called out a hearty “Yes!”

“Contact!” ordered Felicity. The girl at the front spun the propeller expertly and stepped back. The prop swung around as the engine coughed, faltered for a moment, then sped up into a blur as the engine caught.

“Chocks away!”

The other girls pulled at their ropes, dragging out to either side the chocks that held the wheels. The plane rocked forward, then slowly bumped around in a slow arc till it was lined up on the runway and facing the wind. The sound of the engine rose higher and the plane started forward, bumping even more, as if it were an ungainly bird that needed to jump and flap a long way to get airborne.

Touchstone watched the ground ahead, his eyes watering as their speed increased. He had expected the plane to take off like a Paperwing – fairly quickly and with ease and elan. But as they sped down the field, and the low stone wall at the northern end grew closer and closer, he realised that he knew nothing about Ancelstierran aircraft. Obviously they would leap into the sky sharply at the very end of the field.

Or not, he thought a few seconds later. They were still on the ground and the wall was only twenty or thirty paces in front of them. He started to think it would be better to let go and try and jump away from the imminent wreck. But he couldn’t see Sabriel on the other wing, and he wasn’t going to jump without her.

The plane lurched sideways and bounced up into the air. Touchstone sighed with relief as they cleared the wall with inches to spare, then yelled as they went back down again. The ground came up hard, and he was too winded to do anything else as they bounced again and then were finally climbing into the sky.

“Sorry!” shouted Felicity, her voice barely audible over the engine and the rush of air. “Heavier than usual. I forgot.”