"What might not be true?"
"If we can find the body, you may be able to raise him from the dead, as Silvanus did earlier."
"The body is cold by now."
"If you are powerful enough, that does not matter," Gersalius said.
"You mean if we find Blaine's body, I can bring him back?" She grabbed his arm, as if touching him would make it true. "Are you sure?"
"I have seen men raised that have been dead for days."
"Then we must find his body, we must."
"We will, child." Gersalius patted her hand and loosened her grip on his arm. "Let us see who abides in this tomb." He crawled forward, brushing snow from the grave maker.
"Melodia Ashe, beloved wife, lost in death, missed for eternity. Does the name mean anything to you?"
"No," Elaine said.
"Nor to me, but perhaps it will to the townsfolk." He stood, bracing against the tombstone. "Old knees are not meant for running pell-mell up winter streets." He smiled gently at her. "Come, Elaine, let us go back to the inn and get shovels and strong backs to hack this ground."
She didn't want to leave it. "I'll stay here, to guard it."
"Elaine, no one will tamper with it while we are gone. They could no more dig through this frozen soil than we." He held his hand out to her. "So come, let's go back. The sooner we go, the sooner this riddle is solved."
Elaine took his hand reluctantly. She didn't want to leave, as if kneeling on this old grave brought her closer to Elaine. Leaving seemed like deserting him one more time.
"Please, child, these old bones are cold."
She took his hand and let him raise her to her feet. He led her through the graves, holding her fingers as if she were a child. The warmth of his touch began to warm her skin, so that by the time they reached the gate her sores ached. She'd torn a fingernail completely away, and it was a sharp, aching pain. Her hands hurt, but she almost welcomed it.
If she concentrated on the pain, she couldn't think of anything else. If she could find Blaine's body, she would bring him back. He wasn't really dead. She would bring him back. She would not fail him again.
TWENTY-EIGHT
They entered the inn to the sounds of ringing steel and snouting. Elaine ran for the stairs. "Caution might be wiser, child," Gersalius shouted at her back. Elaine ignored him. Everyone she had left was up there. She wouldn't lose anyone else.
Her ripped skirt tripped her on the stairs, and she fell heavily, striking her knee. The pain immobilized her leg, freezing her in place. Voices, shouts, a great bellowing roar of a voice. She'd never heard his battle cry, but it sounded like Fredric. The paladin wouldn't be lightly roused.
Elaine crawled upward, dragging her stunned leg behind her. On hands and knees, she neared the top step. The hallway was a mass of people, struggling. A tall man fought with shield and sword from the doorway where Averil had been. Elaine couldn't see who he fought, but she could hear it.
"Back, damned villains, back I say, or I will slay you all." It was Fredric's voice.
Elaine used the banister to climb to her feet. She stood there for a moment, testing her leg. There was a spot of fresh blood on the step where she'd fallen. She didn't bother looking for the wound. It could wait. The leg would support her now. She limped up the last few steps, leaning heavily on the banister.
Gersalius was behind her. "What is all the fuss?"
She shook her head, staggering down the hall toward the fight. Jonathan's voice came from the open door; he sounded calm enough. "Silvanus, all dead in Cortton rise as zombies. All who die here. You don't want that for your daughter."
Fredric stood in the doorway, his great two-handed sword weaving back and fourth. The armed man who faced him said, "Here, good sir, I am doing my duty as sheriff of this town. I don't want to hurt you. We've all lost someone to this plague. We don't wish to make your grief worse, but we must have the body."
"You will have Averil over my dead body," Fredric said.
"That is a possibility, sir, but I would rather not."
Fredric laughed, a great roaring sound that held enough scorn to draw blood. "It will be you lying dead on the floor, sheriff. And you know that."
Elaine was close enough now to see a line of sweat on the sheriff's forehead. The knowledge of his own death was in his eyes, but he would not back down. His pride meant more than death.
"If you kill me, I want them to burn my body. I don't want to come back as some dead thing. You don't want that for your friend, either-to watch her rot before your eyes night after night. Let us have the body, and she'll just be dead. Dead is better, good sir, much better."
Fredric hesitated. The tip of his sword wavering. Doubt showed on his face.
Silvanus spoke from the room. "They cannot have her."
The sword came back up. "You heard him."
"Silvanus, she is gone, let her go." It was Jonathan's voice.
"You should have sent Elaine to us. She can raise Averil. I know she can."
"She cannot. Thordin says that is magic for a great healer. She has barely begun to learn," Jonathan said.
Elaine pushed through the crowd until she stood beside the sheriff. He glanced at her for a second, then back to Fredric. All his attention was on the big warrior.
"I am Elaine Claim. I believe Silvanus is waiting for me."
"Elaine," Fredric said, "these fools want to burn Averil's body."
"Will that make it impossible to raise her from the dead?" Elaine asked.
"Elaine," Silvanus called, "come in past these fools."
The sheriff and Fredric eyed each other. Neither seemed to want to move. "Let me in, sheriff. Either I can do what Silvanus wants, or I cannot. But until I try, you won't get this body." He still hesitated. "Night is coming," she said softly.
He moved back, sword and shield held in place. "Go in, but we won't wait forever."
Fredric moved back just enough to allow her inside. Gersalius waited at the door. Elaine glanced back, but the wizard said, "I will gather a digging party and get started on our little project."
"I should be there."
"I can do everything you can do and more. Only you can do this, Elaine Claim. Only you."
She nodded. He was right, as usual.
The room was crowded. Silvanus huddled with Averil's body on the bed; Randwulf stood at the foot of the bed; Jonathan stood near the window; Fredric guarded the door. One more person, and she couldn't have walked through the room.
Elaine sat on the corner of the pallet. "How do I do it?"
Silvanus moved off the bed, laying Averil gently on the wrinkled covers. Someone had closed her eyes so she looked almost asleep, but there was a looseness to her body that nothing but death could bring. Sleep, or even unconsciousness, could not imitate it.
Silvanus knelt beside the bed. "Place your hands on her body, either over the wound that killed her or over the center of her life, where you feel her life-force was most strong."
Elaine dropped to her knees, wincing. There was a smear of blood on the bed covers.
"You are hurt," he said.
"It is nothing."
He raised her skirt to look, and she let him. It was a deep gash that bled freely. "You can heal this first. Otherwise, it might damage your concentration."
Somehow, Elaine didn't think so. She shook her head. "No, I'll use the pain. It will help me."
He looked at her strangely, but nodded. "As you like. Every healer is different. If you start at her wound, you may begin by healing that, then the other."
"How do you heal death?" Elaine asked.