Never Trust a Dead Man (18 page)

Elswyth showed her teeth in a grin.

"Except she's not old anymore," Selwyn observed.

"She was still easy to find. Certain things are easier in the afterlife, you know—even though I can't tell you about it. Not having a body, I haunted her until she got tired of that and gave me one." Farold held his wings up. "Unfortunately, she didn't have too much to choose from. What about you? Did you find out who killed me? The first time, I mean, not counting Linton?"

"Oh," Selwyn said, reluctant to break the news. "I'm afraid it was Derian."

"
Derian?
" Farold said. "My own uncle?"

"I'm afraid so."

Elswyth made a disappointed sound and shook her head. "I was sure it was the beautiful girlfriend," she said.

Farold ignored her. "But you said it wasn't him, because I was running the mill so well."

"
You
said it wasn't him, because you were running the mill so well," Selwyn corrected. "And it had nothing to do with that It turns out he killed you to win Anora."

"Ha!" Elswyth gave an I-told-you-so smirk.

"It also turns out," Selwyn finished, "that he set the fire that killed your family when you were a child, to get the mill from your father. Everybody turned against him, and he jumped from the upper window and killed himself."

Farold sat down in the dust of the road with a sigh, which sounded odd coming from a beak.

"I'm sorry," Selwyn said.

"It's just quite a shock," Farold told him.

Elswyth sighed also, to indicate she was getting bored.

After a few moments Farold said to Selwyn, "But they let you go, even knowing that witchcraft had been involved in your disguise?"

"I think," Selwyn said, "only because they felt so bad about putting me in the burial cave. But for the most part they wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't look at me if they came face-to-face with me in the street. Anora spit at me, but I think that's because nobody will talk to her, either. It came out that she was going to marry Derian, and everybody saw it was because of the money, and also she said some horrid things to Kendra. And as for Kendra, it turns out the father of her baby is Alden Thorneson."

"Kendra," Elswyth said. "The other beautiful girl with the..." She gestured.

"Poor Kendra," Farold said. "She would have done better with me after all."

Selwyn said, "She was trying to protect Alden, thinking he'd marry her when they were both in Saint Hilda's, but he wouldn't. But Raedan wants to marry her. Apparently he's loved her for years. He wants her and the baby. Kendra and Raedan are some of the only people willing to speak to me—and Kendra, of all of them, has the greatest cause to complain of me."

"Is that why you were leaving early," Elswyth asked, "instead of waiting for the spell?"

"No," Selwyn admitted. "I was afraid my parents might ... do something to try to help me."

"Ah," she said.

"It was kind of you to help Farold," Selwyn said, "and to come to see if I needed help." He thought about what he had just said. "Do I owe you more years for that?"

Elswyth gave a tight grin. "At the rate you're going," she said, "you're going to owe me so many years, I'm going to have to cast a spell to make
you
younger, just so that you can serve them all. Three years for the duck, two for walking all this distance, and one more because I warned the duck if he didn't stop quacking, I was going to make you pay one more year."

Fifteen and a half years. Selwyn sighed. "We might as well start now," he said. "Get a day's head start."

Farold said, "
I
was thinking—"

"For a change," Elswyth interrupted.

Farold quacked at her. "
I
was thinking," he repeated to Selwyn, "that what you need is a substitute."

"A substitute
what?
" Elswyth asked testily.

"A substitute to take your place serving the old witch. I volunteer."

"I do not," Elswyth said, "intend to spend fifteen and a half years with you."

"Too bad," Farold said. "Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack."

"Stop it," Elswyth warned icily. "I don't need a spell to stuff you and baste you with cherry sauce."

"I'll haunt you again."

Elswyth folded her arms across her chest. She looked at Selwyn. "You promised," she reminded him in a calm, even voice.

"I did," he agreed. He looked at Farold. "I did," he told him.

"Good," Elswyth said.

Farold's tail feathers drooped.

Elswyth said, "That settled, I release you from your promise."

"What?" Selwyn asked.

"Fifteen and a half years spent in the company of someone who doesn't want to be there? That would be as bad as fifteen and a half years with the duck. Consider it my birthday present to myself: freedom from your company. Good-bye, Selwyn. Good-bye, duck."

"Wait," Selwyn called as she started back down the road.

Elswyth turned back.

Even young, she was not as beautiful as Anora. She was not lively and fun-loving like Kendra. But she had helped him when nobody else was there. Time and again she had helped him. And she had come to Penryth maybe, he liked to think, because she had thought he was in need of more help. At what point had she stopped expecting that she would ever be repaid?

"A year," Selwyn said, "certainly seems fair. I couldn't very well begrudge a year after all you've done for me."

She looked at him appraisingly.

"
If,
" he added, "you promise to stop hitting.
That
isn't very nice."

"Well," she started out huffily, but then, reluctantly, she forced herself to nod. She said, "I can only try."

And Selwyn could only hope she would try hard.

She gestured for him to join her.

"First," Selwyn said, "we have to go back and explain to my parents, so they don't worry."

"Of course," she said. "Why am I not surprised?"

So they headed, side by side, back to Penryth, with Farold waddling along behind, grumbling, "Isn't there a pond along here somewhere? Ducks need water, you know. All this walking isn't good for webbed feet. You should have brought a basket to carry me in. We'll have to get one in Penryth."

"Don't you have an afterlife to go to?" Elswyth asked.

"Oh," Farold said, "eventually."