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persephone_koreSet shortly after Abhorsen. There are different kinds of belonging, and I have no idea how many of you have and haven't read the books or might not want to be spoiled, so I'm not sure what else to say except that this would give away the ending.
Only after they started home -- to a part of the Old Kingdom where she'd never been, with the family she had just met -- did Lirael realize that her cold was gone. Whether it had been the Free Magic to pass all the first eight Gates or the Charter Magic to bind Orannis or for that matter Orannis's own fire, she was grateful to have her head and nose clear but rather thought it wasn't a cure she would care to repeat.
The Disreputable Dog had spoken the truth: Sam did make her a new hand, all of gold and swimming with Charter marks that made it hers and made it all but live, as agile as the frog that guarded their campsites on the way back (though without, of course, the attraction to mosquitoes).
The Dead were unexpectedly quiet; many had risen only on account of Hedge, and with him now past the Ninth Gate and then the aftershock of Orannis's new binding, a fair number of them had simply been washed back. Sabriel handled those remaining, even though she was weary enough that Ranna required special care. Lirael did not have to walk in Death again before they arrived, nor indeed until she had healed entirely from burn and bite and the golden hand was complete upon her wrist.
It was strange to see the light shine on it, but it worked just as well as her old one always had. It didn't tire as quickly, perhaps, but that was balanced by a very slight tendency to lose or gain heat too rapidly. Sam was tuning the Charter marks day by day and insisted he would solve that problem before she had occasion to see whether it carried over in the chill of Death. It felt like flesh to the touch, if unnaturally smooth, but when Lirael snapped the golden fingers the sound was a chime that made her think of the bells but didn't fit any of them.
Something had crossed back into the Old Kingdom well ahead of the humans' halting progress, bounding with the joy of energy suddenly freed. They had each seen it, though none clearly or sure enough to say so, at different times. A flash of white fur, a flash of white fire. Days later, the Eighth Bright Shiner stared at nothing for a good long time, then licked his fur into place and ambled off, managing to look (if anybody had been looking, and hadn't been blinded by the white-hot Free Magic glow) both decisive and utterly directionless.
Lirael was sitting with The Book of the Dead on her knee, snapping her fingers, trying that and claps to try to guess what effect the changed sounds might have if she should ever have to try them in Death instead of the bells, when she heard a strange sound at the door into the garden. There were three knocks, but then the sound faded and fell, and something scratched lower down. She frowned in puzzlement, then went to the door. It was an hour yet before dusk would begin to fall....
She opened the door and stared. On the doorstep sat a strangely familiar white cat -- though without a collar.
It looked up at her and mewed, then said, "Well? Can I come in? And have you got any fish?"
"Mogget!" Lirael cried, and without thinking she bent down and swept the little white cat up into her arms.
Mogget yowled in surprise as she stepped backward into the room cuddling him. "Lirael! What are you DOING?"
Mogget wasn't the only one wondering; the question actually came in a ragged chorus of three or four voices, as her shriek had brought others running. Sabriel, Touchstone, Sam, Ellinore, and Nick (arriving a little later and more perplexed than alarmed or speechless) all stared as Lirael froze briefly, realizing what she was doing. She then set the Eighth Bright Shiner rather gingerly on the ground and bowed to him stiffly before straightening up.
"Er, I... was hugging you. Him," she added to the rest of the room, a hot blush spreading over her cheeks. "It? ...Erm. I beg your pardon." She supposed she should be grateful she hadn't been scratched, or worse. "I was glad to see you, and I didn't think."
"I don't think anybody's ever been quite that glad to see me before, Abhorsen-In-Waiting," Yrael said drily, looking up from putting his fur back in order. "And how do you know you ought to be glad to see me, hey? I am, after all," and his eyes turned to Sameth, "now Unbound."
"Well, I know I didn't always trust you," Sam said slowly, "but you decided to help us when you did have the choice and it really mattered. I'm glad to see you, too. We didn't get to thank you for it then."
"You kept your promise about the fish when you didn't have to at all. I wasn't expecting it, especially considering it looked like the Destroyer getting loose before we got a chance to catch them. And then you set me free forever," Yrael pronounced with relish. He blinked thoughtfully at Lirael. "And you were not at all dignified. Just now."
"I didn't mean to be rude," she said.
"I didn't think you did." He suddenly changed from cat to the white-fire shape in which he'd helped to sing Orannis's binding, and held out blazing arms. "I don't think I minded it really," he said with some surprise in the crackling voice.
Lirael looked at the Free Magic fire, swallowed, screwed up her eyes and her nerve, and stepped in to wrap her arms around it. It didn't burn her, but her golden hand sang very softly in resonance, and now she knew its note.
"I tired of service and more of binding, though I could have been given much worse masters. Now that I don't have to," Yrael observed over her head, "I find I rather like the idea of helping you again. I suppose it might just be habit, but I think I missed you all." He looked down and let go of Lirael, letting her step back, and she thought the fire smiled. "Perhaps there's something to be said for belonging."
"Well," Sabriel said, squinting at him, "welcome back, then. But if you go on Shining quite like that, it's going to make things very difficult."
Yrael laughed aloud and contagiously, dimming. "I did say I wanted to help, not blind you all. ....Now, is anybody going to answer me about that fish?"
Only after they started home -- to a part of the Old Kingdom where she'd never been, with the family she had just met -- did Lirael realize that her cold was gone. Whether it had been the Free Magic to pass all the first eight Gates or the Charter Magic to bind Orannis or for that matter Orannis's own fire, she was grateful to have her head and nose clear but rather thought it wasn't a cure she would care to repeat.
The Disreputable Dog had spoken the truth: Sam did make her a new hand, all of gold and swimming with Charter marks that made it hers and made it all but live, as agile as the frog that guarded their campsites on the way back (though without, of course, the attraction to mosquitoes).
The Dead were unexpectedly quiet; many had risen only on account of Hedge, and with him now past the Ninth Gate and then the aftershock of Orannis's new binding, a fair number of them had simply been washed back. Sabriel handled those remaining, even though she was weary enough that Ranna required special care. Lirael did not have to walk in Death again before they arrived, nor indeed until she had healed entirely from burn and bite and the golden hand was complete upon her wrist.
It was strange to see the light shine on it, but it worked just as well as her old one always had. It didn't tire as quickly, perhaps, but that was balanced by a very slight tendency to lose or gain heat too rapidly. Sam was tuning the Charter marks day by day and insisted he would solve that problem before she had occasion to see whether it carried over in the chill of Death. It felt like flesh to the touch, if unnaturally smooth, but when Lirael snapped the golden fingers the sound was a chime that made her think of the bells but didn't fit any of them.
Something had crossed back into the Old Kingdom well ahead of the humans' halting progress, bounding with the joy of energy suddenly freed. They had each seen it, though none clearly or sure enough to say so, at different times. A flash of white fur, a flash of white fire. Days later, the Eighth Bright Shiner stared at nothing for a good long time, then licked his fur into place and ambled off, managing to look (if anybody had been looking, and hadn't been blinded by the white-hot Free Magic glow) both decisive and utterly directionless.
Lirael was sitting with The Book of the Dead on her knee, snapping her fingers, trying that and claps to try to guess what effect the changed sounds might have if she should ever have to try them in Death instead of the bells, when she heard a strange sound at the door into the garden. There were three knocks, but then the sound faded and fell, and something scratched lower down. She frowned in puzzlement, then went to the door. It was an hour yet before dusk would begin to fall....
She opened the door and stared. On the doorstep sat a strangely familiar white cat -- though without a collar.
It looked up at her and mewed, then said, "Well? Can I come in? And have you got any fish?"
"Mogget!" Lirael cried, and without thinking she bent down and swept the little white cat up into her arms.
Mogget yowled in surprise as she stepped backward into the room cuddling him. "Lirael! What are you DOING?"
Mogget wasn't the only one wondering; the question actually came in a ragged chorus of three or four voices, as her shriek had brought others running. Sabriel, Touchstone, Sam, Ellinore, and Nick (arriving a little later and more perplexed than alarmed or speechless) all stared as Lirael froze briefly, realizing what she was doing. She then set the Eighth Bright Shiner rather gingerly on the ground and bowed to him stiffly before straightening up.
"Er, I... was hugging you. Him," she added to the rest of the room, a hot blush spreading over her cheeks. "It? ...Erm. I beg your pardon." She supposed she should be grateful she hadn't been scratched, or worse. "I was glad to see you, and I didn't think."
"I don't think anybody's ever been quite that glad to see me before, Abhorsen-In-Waiting," Yrael said drily, looking up from putting his fur back in order. "And how do you know you ought to be glad to see me, hey? I am, after all," and his eyes turned to Sameth, "now Unbound."
"Well, I know I didn't always trust you," Sam said slowly, "but you decided to help us when you did have the choice and it really mattered. I'm glad to see you, too. We didn't get to thank you for it then."
"You kept your promise about the fish when you didn't have to at all. I wasn't expecting it, especially considering it looked like the Destroyer getting loose before we got a chance to catch them. And then you set me free forever," Yrael pronounced with relish. He blinked thoughtfully at Lirael. "And you were not at all dignified. Just now."
"I didn't mean to be rude," she said.
"I didn't think you did." He suddenly changed from cat to the white-fire shape in which he'd helped to sing Orannis's binding, and held out blazing arms. "I don't think I minded it really," he said with some surprise in the crackling voice.
Lirael looked at the Free Magic fire, swallowed, screwed up her eyes and her nerve, and stepped in to wrap her arms around it. It didn't burn her, but her golden hand sang very softly in resonance, and now she knew its note.
"I tired of service and more of binding, though I could have been given much worse masters. Now that I don't have to," Yrael observed over her head, "I find I rather like the idea of helping you again. I suppose it might just be habit, but I think I missed you all." He looked down and let go of Lirael, letting her step back, and she thought the fire smiled. "Perhaps there's something to be said for belonging."
"Well," Sabriel said, squinting at him, "welcome back, then. But if you go on Shining quite like that, it's going to make things very difficult."
Yrael laughed aloud and contagiously, dimming. "I did say I wanted to help, not blind you all. ....Now, is anybody going to answer me about that fish?"
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Date: 2005-01-09 09:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-09 09:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-09 10:44 pm (UTC)Lirael looked at the Free Magic fire, swallowed, screwed up her eyes and her nerve, and stepped in to wrap her arms around it. It didn't burn her, but her golden hand sang very softly in resonance, and now she knew its note.
That, especially, is an awesome touch.
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Date: 2005-01-09 11:02 pm (UTC)Wow. Thank you very much. I wrote it shortly after finishing all three books in something of a rush, so I think the feel of the language used was still fresh in my mind, which helped. It's very reassuring that you found the content to sound right too.
The hand resonating on Yrael's note just seemed to fit somehow. I'm glad you liked it.
Alan and I have also speculated on whether the attraction between Nick and Lirael means that Orannis is going to get dragged into the bloodlines -- unwillingly, of course, but that's his own fault.
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Date: 2005-01-09 10:58 pm (UTC)This is the only Abhorsen-trilogy fanfic I've read (or even heard of), and I'm already a fangirl. Thanks for writing this.
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Date: 2005-01-09 11:07 pm (UTC)Alan has a pastfic idea involving the founding of Ancelstierre, but it's more sketched out than written at the moment and sounds like a rather massive undertaking, so I'm not sure whether he'll have time for it. Hope so.
There's also quite a bit more on ff.net; of course, the quality varies. I haven't read very much of it so far, though.
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Date: 2005-01-30 01:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-30 02:20 am (UTC)I really don't remember how I came up with the hand's resonance. It just felt right to me too.
I also confess that the feedback on this post is rather reassuring. I actually rather like posting at ff.net, and sometimes do get good reviews there, but there seems to be a sentiment that I have Mogget out of character. (Well, one person says he's out of character, one says I didn't explain why he isn't being sarcastic, and one highly enthusiastic person nonetheless baffled me by saying how glad she was I had redeemed him.)