Elswyth counted out on her gnarled fingers, having to go around the magic light. "The right ingredients. Which, by coincidence, I do happen to be carrying with me." She moved on to a second finger. "The amount of time the dead has been, in fact, dead." She, too, glanced at Farold. "Which, in this case, may be a complication." She moved on to her third finger. "And the willingness of the dead to come back."
Selwyn said, "I will give you yet another year of my life to raise Farold from the dead for me, just long enough so that he can publicly proclaim that I didn't kill him."
"Oh, no," Elswyth said, almost laughing at how ridiculous that offer was. "The casting of this spell will cost you three years all of itself, whether your Farold chooses to heed its call or not."
Three years! Selwyn thought. Without assurance that it would work. On top of the one year he had already agreed to for Elswyth's showing him out of the cavern, and another for not starting his service immediately, and ... He said, "If Farold clears my name tonight, I won't need the extra week we discussed."
Elswyth gave that smile he was growing to dread. "But you already agreed."
Selwyn gritted his teeth. Six years. But what other choice had he? He nodded.
Once more Elswyth put her magical light over her head to free her hands. "Bring the body here," she commanded Selwyn.
"You mean, touch him?"
Elswyth smacked him on the side of the head. "If you tell me that you can magically transport him without touching him," she said, "I'll apologize for that."
Selwyn took many gulps of air, and flexed his fingers, and closed his eyes and wished that he would awake from this terrible dream. But in the end he had to walk over to where Farold's body lay, and he had to get his hands under the weight of it, and he had to pick it up - all loose and floppy as it was.
"Don't worry," Elswyth said, "he won't start to fall apart for several more days."
Selwyn began to gag, though he hadn't eaten since earliest morning a full day and a half ago.
Elswyth pointed to another body, set in the wall and resting on a litter. "Bring me some of the wood from that one's bier."
It would do no good to protest. Dry pieces broke off easily in Selwyn's hands - this body had lain here a long time. Selwyn whispered an apology to it, anyway
"Kneel down," Elswyth said, "and don't break the circle."
"What circle?" Selwyn started to ask, but Elswyth was already scratching a mark on the rocky floor with a sparkling stone she had gotten from her pack, a circle that was big enough to enclose her, Selwyn, and Farold, as well as the wood he had brought. Next, she arranged this wood into a neat little pile, and she set about trying to strike a spark, using flint, steel, and a bit of flax.
"Can't you start a fire magically?" Selwyn asked.
"One can't use magic to make magic," Elswyth told him. "And every time you speak, you drain energy and make the spell weaker."
Selwyn wasn't convinced she didn't say that only to keep him quiet, but he stopped asking questions, just in case.
Once Elswyth got a fire going, she pulled a little clay pot from her pack and placed that on the heat. She emptied two vials into the pot: one a clear, bright red liquid - like melted rubies, Selwyn thought; the other a thick blackish purple substance that she had to shake out of its container. It made a rude sucking sound when it finally wriggled out, then landed with a noisy plop in the already-simmering red ingredient. There was a loud hiss, a blue cloud of smoke, and a nasty smell that momentarily made Selwyn forget the smell of where he was.
Elswyth unwrapped Farold's blanket again and cut off another hank of his hair.
His skin had an awful greenish cast. Without even realizing it, Selwyn slid backward on his knees. Glowering, Elswyth grabbed hold of his wrist before he broke the circle. She had talked of the dead person's willingness to come back, and Selwyn had been amazed, assuming any dead person would be glad to be alive again, even temporarily. Now, seeing the state of the body they were asking Farold to come back to, Selwyn wasn't so sure.
Elswyth placed Farold's hair into the pot, along with various leaves and powders from her pack. Lastly she pulled from her pack a human leg bone, dry and white. She waved this, wafting over Farold the still-blue smoke from the clay pot, and began to call Farold's name.
Selwyn was light-headed, even without the smoke.
In a low singsong, she apologized for disturbing Farold's rest and told him that his friend - which Selwyn had never been - needed him. "You died an untimely death," she chanted, "cut short, unfairly, unfairly. Your grieving friend seeks your aid to unmask your murderer."
She tipped Selwyn's head, forcing him to look at Farold, which he'd been steadfastly trying to avoid. She handed him the bone, setting the other end down on Farold's forehead. "Come back," she said, which Selwyn imagined she meant for Farold, even though she was looking at him. She gestured, and he realized he was to repeat her words.
' "Come back,'" he squeaked.
"Use these ingredients...," Elswyth said, wafting the smoke.
"'Use these ingredients...,'" Selwyn echoed.
"And my strength..."
That explained why she was having him help. But Selwyn repeated the words: "'And my strength ...'" Was it just his imagination, or did he really suddenly feel weaker? There was no other choice, he reminded himself.
"And enter into this body," Elswyth finished, gesturing for him to make sure the bone stayed touching Farold.
' "And enter into this body.'"
But at the very moment Selwyn spoke, there was a sudden noise in the cave, a commotion. His body jerked involuntarily, ready to fend off attack.
It was only the bats, once more stirring as, outside, daylight faded and nighttime settled. In a moment Selwyn had recovered from his start, but then one of the bats - so clever and agile the night before - fell into his lap.
"Ahh!" Farold's voice screamed, small and many octaves too high. "What have you done?"
Selwyn looked down at the bone Elswyth had handed him, which he'd unwittingly raised off Farold's brow, and which - even now - was pointing straight up, up to where the cloud of bats above swooped and swarmed and flew beyond the curve of the corridor, deeper into the cavern. Leaving one behind.
Elswyth reached over Farold's perfectly still corpse and over the bat that fluttered and raged and tried unsuccessfully to right itself. She smacked Selwyn hard. "Fool!" she cried.
Chapter Six
The bat was having trouble standing upright. Unable to get its balance, it kept flapping its wings, but this caused it to rise slightly off the ground, at which point it would squawk, stop flapping, drop back to the floor, and tumble over. Then start all over again.
"Fool?" the bat repeated after Elswyth, its voice tiny but definitely Farold's. "Fool? Fool doesn't say the half of it!"
Selwyn offered a steadying hand to keep the bat from tipping over.
In appreciation, the creature kicked him. But then it began hopping about, one tiny foot lifted, yelping, "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! You big bully!" It tried to kick Selwyn with the other foot, and flopped onto its back.
Selwyn held out his finger, and the bat reluctantly took hold and pulled itself upright, using the tiny little thumb at the edge of its wing as a hand. Selwyn looked from the bat with its huge ears and large fleshy nose to Farold's corpse, to Elswyth. "What happened?" he asked helplessly.
"'What happened?'" the bat shrieked. "'What happened?' What kind of fool question is that? Selwyn Roweson, you dumb twit, even you should be able to see what happened. You dumb twit." Still holding on to Selwyn's left: forefinger, it kicked at the bone in Selwyn's right hand, missed, and found itself - both feet off the ground - dangling by its thumb from Selwyn's finger.
Elswyth, naturally, sided with the bat. She snatched the bone from Selwyn and shook it at him. "Didn't I tell you to keep this pointing at the corpse?"
"Well, actually," Selwyn corrected, "you didn't so much tell as show - "
She smacked him on the head with the bone.
"Yes," he agreed for safety's sake. "Yes, you did."
"Then why did you go and point it at the bats?"
"I didn't do it on purpose," Selwyn said. "It was just, the bats made a sudden noise that frightened me."
"Frightened you?" both Elswyth and the bat shrieked at him. Elswyth pointed the bone at the tiny bat and yelled at Selwyn, "Look at him. He's about as big as your finger. What, precisely, do you find so terrifying that you had to go and muddle the spell?"
"The noise startled me," Selwyn protested. Why did she always make things out so that he sounded like a fool? "I wasn't frightened of one bat." He decided against mentioning that the whole swarm of bats was a little more intimidating than one all by itself. Most likely Elswyth wasn't intimidated by any number of bats, and she looked ready to use the bone on his head again. He said, "So Farold's spirit returned to the wrong body? It went into this bat's body? Can we redo the spell?"
"No," Elswyth said in a tone that indicated, once again, he was a fool. And, to Farold, she said, "Bats can't stand, so stop trying."
"As though it's not bad enough being dead," the bat complained, still clutching Selwyn's finger and jumping up and down with rage, "now I've got to be a rodent, too?"
"I'm sorry," Selwyn said.
"Actually," Elswyth said, looking thoughtful, "you're not."
Selwyn and the bat looked at each other. "Who's not what?" the bat demanded. "He's not sorry?"
Elswyth shrugged. "That I have no idea about. But you're not a rodent."
"I'm a bat."
"That's a different thing entirely. Bats have mouselike faces, but they're in a completely different order from rodents."
"Thank you very much, professor." The bat spit on the floor. "Now there's a thoroughly useless piece of information to add to this whole mess. I look like a rodent, I feel like a rodent - who are you to tell me I'm not a rodent, you ugly old witch?"
Selwyn saw the flash of irritation in Elswyth's eyes. He pulled back his hand so that the bat could try to escape, but it stood its ground, wobbly but defiant.
Elswyth raised the bone, which was big enough to send the bat - or Farold, or Farold in the bat's body - back to where she'd just summoned him from. But she took pity on his small size and, instead, hit Selwyn.
"No wonder someone murdered you," she told Farold as Selwyn rubbed his leg but didn't dare complain that this latest attack had been unfair. "You're a very irritating little snippet."
The bat stood motionless for a moment. "That's right," it finally said, much subdued. "I was murdered. That was how I came to be dead. I remember hearing you call me, and that's why I came back."
"Right," Selwyn said, glad to be back on the topic they needed to be on. "We called you here so that you could tell us who did it."
The bat that was Farold said, "I thought you called me here so that you could tell me."
"What?" Elswyth snapped.
"You don't know who killed you?" Selwyn asked in horror.
"I was asleep, you dumb twit. It was the middle of the night, and it was dark, and" - the bat beat at Selwyn's hand with its wings, as though forgetting that it had wings, and not hands - "if you had looked before starting all this, you would have seen that I was stabbed in the back."
Selwyn rested his forehead on the palm of his hand.
Elswyth threw down the bone, too disgusted even to hit him.
"As much fun as this has been," Farold announced, "seeing you act the fool again, Selwyn, meeting the old witch here, I think I'm going back now. The afterlife makes a lot more sense than you do."
"Wait!" Selwyn cried. Six years. He'd just given away six years of his life - to be insulted by Farold, hit by Elswyth, and end up no further ahead than he'd been when this had started. "But you did want to find out who murdered you. That's why you came back, you said."
"For all I know, it could be you," Farold said.
Elswyth gave a cry of exasperation. "What is it - something in the water that makes everyone in Penryth fools? Why would he have paid to bring you back if he was the one who killed you?"
Farold didn't ask what he had paid. "I suppose," he agreed.
"So the real murderer is free, and I've been blamed," Selwyn said. "And Bowden condemned me to die here in this cave with you."
"I don't think Bowden is going to release you on my say," Farold said, flapping his bat wings. "He'll be convinced this is some kind of trick. Either that, or he'll have you up on charges of witchcraft."
Selwyn didn't argue, because he was thinking how bed react if an accused murderer came bearing a talking bat that claimed to be the dead man. Instead, to show Farold there was benefit in this for him, too, he said, "But if you help me, maybe the two of us together can find out who did it, and you can rest easier in the afterlife."
"I was resting easy," Farold grumbled, "until you disturbed me." But then he said, "All right, why not? Besides, I'd like to see Anora one more time."
At the mention of Anora's name from those little bat lips, Selwyn felt ... he wasn't quite sure what. It wasn't a good feeling, whatever it was: a bubbling of jealousy, anger, guilt to be pleased that Farold was now, obviously, no longer competition.
Elswyth smiled sweetly and took her revenge on Farold for his earlier unkind remark. She said, "Then I suppose it's a good thing you're in the body you're in. A three-day-old corpse makes such a poor first impression."
"Ugly old witch," Farold repeated.
Looking from Farold to Selwyn, Elswyth said, "The two of you deserve each other."
Chapter Seven
Selwyn rewrapped Farold's corpse, Farold finding fault and nagging all the while, complaining, among other things, that Selwyn wasn't doing the job with a properly respectful attitude. It was hard to look respectful while fighting the urge to vomit. Selwyn resolved that henceforth he would try to avoid situations where he had to prepare a corpse while the corpse was in a position to criticize.