Going through the arch, from mud into snow, from bright sun into the pallid luminescence of a snowfall, from her past into her future.

Well met, Mistress Lirael. This ragamuffin, as your servant so aptly described him, is His Highness Prince Sameth, the Abhorsen-in-Waiting. Hence the bells. But on to more serious matters. Could you please rescue us? Prince Sameth's personal vessel is not quite what I'm used to, and he is eager to catch me a fish before my morning nap.

He was obviously a very arrogant ragamuffin, and younger than she was, to boot. And he was wearing a necromancer's bells! Apart from that, he was quite handsome, which was another black mark as far as she was concerned.

É o caminhante que escolhe o caminho ou o caminho o caminhante?

Garth on where Sabriel came from "Sabriel grew very much out of the story... Sometimes people ask me, 'Why did you write a strong young woman character?' I just thought she was more interesting than if she was a young man.

In the expectant quiet, there were only the usual sounds of the night. Wind in the big trees out past the school wall, starting to rise as the sky darkened, Crickets beginning to chirp. Then Sabriel heard it--the massed grinding of Dead joints, no longer joined by gristle; the padding of Dead feet, bones like hobnails clicking through necrotic flesh.