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outward with other senses； trying to feel the presence of the dead。
it was there鈥攁 faint； concealed emanation； like an untraceable whiff of something rotten。
sabriel concentrated on it； followed it； and found it； right there in the shed。 the dead was somehow hiding among the villagers。
she opened her eyes slowly； looking straight at the point where her senses told her the dead creature lurked。 she saw a fisherman； middleaged； his salt…etched face red under sun…bleached hair。 he seemed no different than the others around him； listening intently for her reply； but there was definitely something dead in him； or very close by。 he was wearing a boat cloak； which seemed odd； since the smoking shed was hot from massed humanity and the many lights。
鈥渢ell me；鈥潯abriel said。 鈥渄id anyone bring a large box with them out to the island？ something； say； an arm…span square a side； or larger？ it would be heavy鈥攚ith grave dirt。鈥�
murmurs and enquiries met this question； neighbors turning to each other； with little flowerings of fear and suspicion。 as they talked； sabriel walked out through them； surreptitiously loosening her sword； signaling touchstone to stay close by her。 he followed her； eyes flickering across the little groups of villagers。 mogget； glancing up from his fish； stretched and lazily stalked behind touchstone鈥檚 heels； after a warning glare at the two cats who were eyeing the half…consumed head and tail of his fishy repast。
careful not to alarm her quarry； sabriel took a zigzag path through the shed； listening to the villagers with studied attention； though the blond fisherman never left the corner of her eye。 he was deep in discussion with another man； who seemed to be growing more suspicious by the second。
closer now； sabriel was sure that the fisherman was a vassal of the dead。 technically； he was still alive； but a dead spirit had suppressed his will； riding on his flesh like some shadowy stringpuller； using his body as a puppet。 something highly unpleasant would be half…submerged in his back； under the boat cloak。 mordaut； they were called； sabriel remembered。 a whole page was devoted to these parasitical spirits in the book of the dead。 they liked to keep a primary host alive； slipping off at night to sate their hunger from other living prey鈥攍ike children。
鈥渋鈥檓 sure i saw you with a box like that； patar；鈥潯he suspicious fisherman was saying。 鈥渏all stowart helped you get it ashore。 hey； jall！鈥�
he shouted that last； turning to look at someone else across the room。 in that instant； the dead…ridden patar exploded into action； clubbing his questioner with both forearms； knocking him aside； running to the door with the silent ferocity of a battering ram。
but sabriel had expected that。 she stood before him； sword at the ready； her left hand drawing ranna； the sweet sleeper； from the bandolier。
she still hoped to save the man； by quelling the mordaut。
patar slid to a halt and half…turned； but touchstone was there behind him； twin swords glowing eerily with shifting charter marks and silver flames。 sabriel eyed the blades in surprise； she hadn鈥檛 known they were spelled。 past time she asked； she realized。
then ranna was free in her hand鈥攂ut the mordaut didn鈥檛 wait for the unavoidable lullaby。
patar suddenly screamed； and stood rigid； the redness draining from his face； to be replaced by grey。 then his flesh crumpled and fell apart； even his bones flaking away to soggy ash as the mordaut sucked all the life out of him in one voracious instant。 newly fed and strengthened； the dead slid out from the falling cloak； a pool of squelching darkness。 it took shape as it moved； being a large； disgustingly elongated sort of rat。 quicker than any natural rat； it scuttled towards a hole in the wall and escape！ sabriel lunged； her blade striking chips from the floor planks； missing the shadowy form by a scant instant。
touchstone didn鈥檛 miss。 his right…hand sword sheared through the creature just behind the head； the left…wielded blade impaling its sinuous midsection。
pinned to the floor； the creature writhed and arched； its shadow…stuff working away from the blades。 it was remaking its body； escaping the trap。
quickly； sabriel stood over it； ranna sounding in her hand； sweet； lazy tone echoing out into the shed。
before the echoes died； the mordaut ceased to writhe。 form half…lost by its shifting from the swords； it lay like a lump of charred liver； quivering on the floor； still impaled。
sabriel replaced ranna； and drew the eager saraneth。 its forceful voice snapped out； sound weaving a net of domination over the foul creature。 the mordaut made no effort to resist； even to make a mouth to whine its cause。 sabriel felt it succumb to her will； via the medium of saraneth。
she put the bell back； but hesitated as her hand fell on kibeth。 sleeper and master had spoken well； but walker sometimes had its own ideas； and it was stirring suspiciously under her hand。
best to wait a moment； to calm herself； sabriel thought； taking her hand away from the bandolier。
she sheathed her sword； and looked around the shed。 to her surprise； everyone except touchstone and mogget was asleep。 they had only caught the echoes of ranna； which shouldn鈥檛 have been enough。 of course； ranna could be tricksome too； but its trickery was far less troublesome。
鈥渢his is a mordaut；鈥潯he said to touchstone； who was stifling a half…born yawn。 鈥渁 weak spirit； catalogued as one of the lesser dead。 they like to ride with the living鈥攃ohabiting the body to some extent； directing it； and slowly sipping the spirit away。 it makes them hard to find。鈥�
鈥渨hat do we do with it now？鈥潯sked touchstone； eyeing the quivering lump of shadow with distaste。 it clearly couldn鈥檛 be cut up； consumed by fire； or anything else he could think of。
鈥渋 will banish it； send it back to die a true death；鈥潯eplied sabriel。 slowly； she drew kibeth； using both hands。 she still felt uneasy； for the bell was twisting in her grasp； trying to sound of its own accord； a sound that would make her walk in death。
she gripped it harder and rang the orthodox backwards； forwards and figure eight h