“What way?” Mogget hissed, arching his back. “I know of no way out but the stepping stones, or the air above, or the river – and I have been here since the House was built.”

“But not when the river was split and the island made,” said the Dog calmly. “Before the Wallmakers raised the walls, when the first Abhorsen’s tent was pitched where the great fig grows now.”

“True,” conceded Mogget. “But neither were you.”

There was the hint of a question, or doubt, in Mogget’s last words, thought Lirael. She watched the Disreputable Dog carefully, but all the hound did was scratch her nose with both forepaws before continuing.

“In any case, there was once another way. If it still exists, it is deep and it could be dangerous in more ways than one. Some might say it would be safer to cross the stones and fight our way through the Dead.”

“But not you?” asked Lirael. “You think there is an alternative?”

Lirael was afraid of the Dead, but not so much that she could not face them if she had to. She was just not entirely confident in her newfound identity. Perhaps an Abhorsen like Sabriel, in the full flower of her years and power, could simply leap across the stepping stones and put Chlorr, the Shadow Hands and all the other Dead to rout. Lirael thought if she tried that herself, she would end up retreating back across the stones and quite likely fall into the river and be smashed to pieces in the waterfall.

“I think we should investigate it,” pronounced the Dog. She stretched out, almost hitting Mogget again with her paws, then slowly stood up and yawned, revealing many extremely large, very white teeth. All of this, Lirael was sure, was to annoy Mogget.

Mogget looked at the Dog through narrowed eyes.

“Deep?” mewed the cat. “Does that mean what I think it does? We cannot go there!”

“She is long gone,” replied the Dog. “Though I suppose something might linger...”

“She?” asked Lirael and Sameth together.

“You know the well in the rose garden?” asked the Dog. Sameth nodded, while Lirael tried to remember if she’d seen a well as they’d crossed the island to the House. She did vaguely recall catching a glimpse of roses, many roses sprawled across trellises that rose up past the eastern side of the lawn closest to the House.

“It is possible to climb down the well,” continued the Dog. “Though it is a long climb, and narrow. It will bring us to even deeper caves. There is a way through them to the base of the waterfall. Then we will have to climb back up the cliffs again, but I expect we will be able to do that further west, bypassing Chlorr and her minions.”

“The well is full of water,” said Sam. “We’ll drown!”

“Are you sure?” asked the Dog. “Have you ever looked in it?”

“Well, no,” said Sam. “It’s covered, I think...”

“Who is the ‘she’ you mentioned?” asked Lirael firmly. She knew very well from past experience when the Dog was avoiding an issue.

“Someone once lived down there,” replied the Dog. “Someone who had considerable and dangerous powers. There might be some remnant of her there.”

“What do you mean, ‘someone’?” asked Lirael sternly. “How could someone have lived deep underneath Abhorsen’s House?”

“I refuse to go anywhere near that well,” interjected Mogget. “I suppose it was Kalliel who thought to dig into forbidden ground. What use to add our bones to his in some dark corner of the depths?”

Lirael’s gaze flicked across to Sam for an instant, then back to Mogget. She regretted it instantly, for it showed her own doubts and fears. Now that she was the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, she had to set an example. Sam had been open about his fear of Death and the Dead, and his desire to hide out here in the heavily protected House. But he had overcome his fear, at least for now. How could Sam continue to be brave if she didn’t set an example?

Lirael was also his aunt. She didn’t feel like an aunt, but she supposed that it carried certain responsibilities towards a nephew, even one who was only a few years younger than herself.

“Dog!” ordered Lirael. “Answer me plainly for once. Who...

or what... is down there?”

“Well, it’s difficult to put into words,” said the Dog. She shuffled her front paws again. “Particularly since there’s probably no one down there at all. If there is, I suppose that you would call her a leftover from the creation of the Charter, as am I and so many others of varying stature. But if she is there, or some part of her, then it’s possible she is as she was, which is dangerous in a very... elemental... way, though it’s all so long ago and really I’m only telling you what other people have said or written or thought...”

“Why would she be down there?” asked Sameth. “Why under Abhorsen’s House?”

“She’s not exactly anywhere,” replied the Dog, who was now scratching at her nose with one paw and totally failing to meet anybody’s eyes. “Part of her power is invested here, so if she were to be anywhere, it’s likely to be here, and that’s where if she were anywhere she’d be.”

“Mogget?” asked Lirael. “Can you translate anything the Dog has said?”

Mogget didn’t answer. His eyes were shut. Somewhere in the space of the Dog’s answer he had curled up and gone to sleep.

“Mogget!” repeated Lirael.

“He sleeps,” said the Dog. “Ranna has called him into slumber.”

“I think he only listens to Ranna when he feels like it,” said Sam. “I hope Kerrigor sleeps more soundly.”

“We can look, if you like,” said the Dog. “But I am sure we would know if he had woken. Ranna has a lighter hand than Saraneth, but she holds tightly when she must. Besides, Kerrigor’s power lay in his followers. His art was to draw upon them and his downfall was to depend upon it.”

“What do you mean?” asked Lirael. “I thought he was a Free Magic sorcerer who became one of the Greater Dead?”

“He was more than that,” said the Dog, “for he had the royal blood. Mastery of others ran deep in him. Somewhere in Death, Kerrigor found the means to use the strength of those who swore allegiance to him, through the brand he burnt upon their flesh. If Sabriel had not accidentally used a most ancient charm that severed him from this power, I think Kerrigor would have triumphed. For a time, at least.”

“Why only for a time?” asked Sam. He wished he had never mentioned Kerrigor in the first place.

“I think he would eventually have done what your friend Nicholas is doing now,” said the Dog, “and dug up something best left alone.”

No one said anything to that.

“We’re wasting time,” Lirael said finally.

She looked out at the fog on the western bank again. She could feel many Dead Hands there, more than could be seen, though there were plenty enough of those. Rotting sentries, wreathed in fog. Waiting for their enemy to come out.

Lirael took a deep breath and made her decision.

“If you think we should climb down the well, Dog, then that is the way we will go. Hopefully we will not encounter whatever remnant of power lurks below. Or perhaps she will be friendly, and we can talk—”

“No!” barked the Dog, surprising everyone. Even Mogget opened an eye but, seeing Sam looking at him, hastily shut it again.

“What?” asked Lirael.

“If she is there, which is very unlikely, you mustn’t speak to her,” said the Dog. “You must not listen to her or touch her in any way.”

“Has anyone ever heard or touched her?” asked Sam.

“No mortal,” said Mogget, raising his head. “Nor passed through her halls, I would guess. It is madness to try. I always wondered what happened to Kalliel.”

“I thought you were asleep,” said Lirael. “Besides, she might ignore us as we ignore her.”

“It is not her ill will I am afraid of,” said Mogget. “I fear her paying us any attention at all.”

“Perhaps we should—” said Sam.

“What?” asked Mogget nastily. “Stay here all nice and safe?”