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In the Old Kingdom, while the Abhorsen Sabriel is off fighting the undead, who are waking in worryingly ever-increasing numbers, Lirael is alone in the glacial mountain kingdom of the Clayr dreaming of when she will receive the gift of "the sight"--which all true daughters of Clayr possess. She fills the long wait with years of self-taught charter magic and investigations into what lies in the depths of the Clayr library--a truly vast and ancient place.
In Ancelstierre, Prince Sameth, son of Sabriel and designated Abhorsen-in-waiting, is battling with his own inner demons. His own familiarity with charter magic is limited and it even sometimes scares him. This weight of expectation is crystallised when he is attacked by an evil necromancer intent on killing him. Sameth barely escapes with his life.
In these times of increased undead activity, Sabriel suspects a greater force at work. Sameth must return to the Old Kingdom and learn fast to help counter this enormous threat while Lirael too must play her part. She is a girl with an important destiny and is sent out towards the area of darkness and mystery that holds the key to what has been happening. Nix's imagination continues to impress all and his Sabriel trilogy is so far proving to be the award-winning spectacle that it has promised to be. The book is recommended for ages 10 and above. --John McLay
527 pages, Hardcover
First published April 21, 2001





“I wonder if they’ll do that old trick city guards do with hay wagons, when they suspect smuggling.”
“What’s that?” Sam whispered back, though he had the feeling he didn’t want to know.
“They stick everything with spears to make sure there’s nothing—or no one—hidden there,” said Mogget absently. “Mind if I move under your arm?"
"I’m babbling, aren’t I? Sorry.”
“More than a hundred words in a row,” remarked Mogget. “And most of them made sense. There is hope for you yet, Prince Sameth.”
“Suddenly, the dog stopped scratching, stood up, and shook itself, spraying droplets of dirty water all over Lirael and all over the study. Then it ambled across and licked the petrified girl on the face with a tongue that most definitely was all real and not some Charter-made illusion.
When that got no response, it grinned and announced, ‘I am the Disreputable Dog. Or the Disreputable bitch, if you want to get technical. When are we going for a walk?’”