There was Abhorsen business to tackle, something serious if Sabriel and the King were flying to the Glacier. And then there was this supposed message from her mother. Lirael couldn’t really remember her, or be sure the fragments of memory she had were real or just something imagined or picked up from watching other mothers with their daughters. These half-asleep thoughts were interrupted by a glance at the Charter marks in the ceiling, which suddenly had her flinging back the covers and twisting around to put her feet on the floor. Like everywhere else in the Glacier, among the many general marks for light there were a few that mimicked the sun or moon. Any Clayr could tell from them almost instantly the rough time of day outside, and Lirael had just seen it was nearly noon. The Waking Bell that resounded through the Hall of Youth and most of the other dormitory levels clearly did not reach the more exclusive rooms on the Southscape. She had overslept by hours! Sendings emerged from the wall and the door as Lirael leaped out of bed.
