Jawal wrang his hands, looking everywhere but at their faces. He opened his mouth to make a start, but the words stuck in his throat. He leaned forward in the chair as though hoping they might just spill out of him.

"Sometimes the fear is so great, the body doesn't want to admit what the mind knows," Sidri said. Jawal managed to meet her gaze for just a moment, with eyes that told of lonely years and no reprieve. He tried to tell someone else this story, she thought, and they mocked him for it. He was starting to sniffle, and tears pooled around his eyelids. "Forget the 'sacrifice' for a moment. Tell me a little bit about your father."

Jawal blinked and wiped his eyes dry, sitting up straighter. "Wh-what about him?"

"Anything. His name, for a start. All we know is that he was the manager of the mine, and that you two lived here, once."

"Um, his name was Kanesh."

Jiriga poured him more soured milk and pulled up a seat himself rather than standing. Jawal's fidgeting had already eased with a bit of distance from whatever he'd remembered, but now he was giving Sidri that mix of reverence and fear that is the necromancer's lot. Jiriga gave her the slightest nod and poured himself a cup as well, leaning back and taking a casual sip.

"Your old man knew the mines pretty well, didn't he?" he asked.

"Y-yeah. Better than anyone. He kept maps and . . ."

"Go on, son."

Jawal looked at each of them as though double-checking for permission. It pained Sidri to think what the boy had been through to leave him so scared even to speak at length.

"Um, well, m-my mom died giving birth to me. So for my dad, it was just me and the job. When I was little, sometimes he'd take me into the mines with him and show me the copper in the rocks."

"So you were close," Sidri said. "What happened when the mining company left?"

"Dad would go into the mines sometimes. He'd take his mining gear and maps and go looking for copper. Thought there had to be more, and if he could find it, some company would open the mines up again." He took a sip, then stared hard at the milk in his cup. "I went with him sometimes when he asked, but I . . . I dunno."

"What is it?" Jiriga asked. He could muster softness and warmth when he wanted to, but Sidri knew that he did it to cover for his frustration often as not. The boy's cowed demeanor likely had him ready to tear his hair out, and she gave him a warning look.

"Sometimes he talked about leaving, you know? Start over somewhere new. I should have asked him to." Jawal shook his head. "One day he w-went in and . . . he didn't come back out."

Sidri reached over and gently patted his hand. "Was he acting any differently when you last saw him?"

"No. He was just like always." Sidri guessed from the way his eyes glazed over that he was forcing himself to think hard about his last moments with his father, trying to balance between seeing them clearly and not reopening his wounds. "After a few days, I think I realized he wasn't coming back, and that he was p-probably dead. I thought I should go look for him, but every time I got to the mines I couldn't . . ."

"You weren't ready for what you'd feel if you found him," Jiriga said. "I know that feeling."

Sidri studied her partner for a moment; he was a tough man to read, but she thought that had the ring of truth to it.

"Yeah, I wasn't ready. But one day I figured I had to try. I went in and looked for him. Mutar figured out what I was doing and made me show him around." Jawal swallowed hard, working himself up to what he needed to tell. "Um, that's when my friends started using that room. But I would still go into the mines when nobody else was around."

"And that's when you saw it?"

"Y-yeah. I don't know if it was really a sacrifice, but it looked like one." He clinched his eyes shut as tightly as he could--hoping to focus on his memories? Sidri wondered, or trying to squeeze them out. "Th-that tunnel that I didn't want to go down? It happened down that way."

Jiriga shifted his chair over closer to Jawal. "It's okay, we're not in the mines anymore, and we're safe from ghosts as long as she's here." He jerked a thumb at Sidri, flashing a confident smile. Sidri wondered if his face ached from the unfamiliarity.

"Well, there was someone standing over a body right by the edge of a pit, talking to himself. There were two other people standing close to him, and three people were on the ground, all tied up."

"Could you hear what he was saying?" Sidri asked.

"Only when he got louder. But I didn't understand the words. It sounded like a different language. But that's when . . ." He tucked in his chin as if to protect his neck. "One of the men with him would bring him one of those tied up people a-and . . . and c-cut their throats."

"I know it's hard to think about, but you're doing excellently," Sidri said. "I just need you to be brave a little bit longer and tell us the rest of what you saw." She could tell the boy was near his breaking point, but having already said what he had thus far, he could prepare himself. She sat back and gave him a moment to gather himself in silence.

"He moved." Jawal said, barely above a whisper, as though he didn't trust his own memory. "The body moved. He sat up, I saw his face; it was Rahun. I swear, he really came back to life and--"

"It's okay, it's okay," Sidri cooed, stroking his hair. "I believe you. You say he definitely wasn't moving before this."

"He was dead."

"And you know this person?"

Jawal looked at her in confusion; behind his eyes he was trying to recall his own words; he looked embarrassed.

"A-ah, y-yeah. He's um . . . one of Mutar's friends."

"A bandit, by any chance?" Jiriga asked, cocking a brow.

"I'm not supposed to say."

"Let's not worry about that now," Sidri said. "So, this man sat up after being dead."

"I saw . . . I dunno. It looked like smoke. It was coming off him, and it was coming out of the pit. I got cold, and someone whispered something to me."

"What did they say?"

"I don't know. I got scared and made a sound; so those three guys turned around. They couldn't see me in the dark, b-but I think they were going to come look for me. I just ran away."

"They never came for you?"

"Un-uh."

Sidri closed her eyes and thought it over. Raising someone bodily from the dead was impossible; but then so was preventing their deaths by tying other souls to them, and that was now the commonplace of her life. There was no denying something had pulled the boy part way into the world of the dead, and necromancy powerful enough to undo death just might do the trick to people caught nearby.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"The ghost you saw was your father, wasn't it? When you saw him, what happened?"

"He told me he saw the same thing I did, and that I should leave the village." Jawal furrowed his brow. "I'm not . . . strong or brave or anything like that, but I'm not going to just abandon my dad. I just didn't know what I could do to help."

Sidri studied his face for a moment; he was right about himself not being strong or brave, but when it came to his father, he was able to muster some resolve. Perhaps . . .

"You've been a great help just telling us what you have. But, if you think you're up for it, there is one more thing you could do to help your father. It won't be pleasant, though."

"W-what is it? If it'll help my dad . . ."

"What you and your father saw is probably the cause of this unusual haunting. Ghosts don't come around without a reason, and it's rare outside of war that you'd have more than two or three ghosts in one place. In the mines, there are at least thirty."

The color drained from Jawal's already sickly face, and his jaw slackened. Sidri nodded as if to say 'That's exactly how you should react.'

"If they can possess you, then a necromancer like me would be an easy target, and I can't defend myself as well when I don't know who the ghosts are. That's where you come in. When you were possessed, there were people speaking to you, right?"

"Y-yeah . . . lots of them. I could see their faces, too."

"That's good. I want you to close your eyes and think about the faces you could see the clearest." Sidri waited for the boy to shut his eyes; when she could see the wrinkles of concentration on his face, she put her hands gently on his face. "Do you see anyone?"

"Yeah. There's an old man . . . he looks sad . . . he's wearing old robes."

That sounded familiar. "What is his name?"

"How can I--"

"Quiet your mind and let it come to you. His soul touched yours--that's what possession is--a memory of his name should come to you."

"Geddha," Jawal said after a long pause.

"All right, now I know this sounds scary, but I want to put you into a receptive state where Geddha can possess you, so that I can speak to him."

"N-no!" Jawal's eyes flew open and he rose from the chair, wild with fear. She couldn't blame him; she knew how it had felt early in her training when she'd gotten herself possessed by accident--even now her breath caught when she remembered her great grandmother pulling her back to herself just as she was about to be lost to grasping souls.

"I will be here to guide you and keep you safe. We are far enough from the mines, and I've already pulled you some of the way back into the world of the living. Now that I have a name, I can speak to that ghost and keep others at bay." As Sidri was trying to calm him, she saw Jiriga stepping into position behind the boy, ready to hold him down if need be. She glared. "I won't force you, but if you really want to help your father, this is the best way. Even knowing to look for 'Geddha,' I'd still likely get swallowed up in those mines."

". . . okay." Jawal took his seat again. He tried to look casual, resting his arms on the table, but his hands were shaking.

"Thank you for trusting me. Close your eyes and steady your breathing. Good; now recall Geddha's face, and some of what he said to you if you can." She waited; fear could weaken him or flood into her soul at a critical moment and until he'd gone still, she could not risk opening him. She counted out his breathing cycles to him softly until he'd stopped shaking. "Geddha, you who founded the shrine to Imashra here, I call to you through this boy you have claimed. If you would have me free you, I have need of your guidance."

She bore in mind all that she had read of Geddha's history as she reached through Jawal. Other voices clamored somewhere far off, but she was able to ignore them. She felt something responding to her, drawing near. Jawal's eyes opened only the narrowest slits, and his head hung forward slightly. A chill mist issued from his nose with each breath.

"Can you hear me, Geddha?"

"I can." A deep, time-graveled voice spoke in a strained harmony with Jawal's thin crack and warble. "You are the one who found my book."

"That's right. As you have a hold on this boy's soul, I'm sure you know what he's told me. Was the ritual he saw when you were brought into the world of the living after three centuries?"

"One much like it. I cannot remember anything before that moment, but it was as though I could see the world through a crack. I was being pulled through the crack, along with many others."

"Was there a dead body that time?"

"Yes, but it did not rise like the boy said. The current was pulling us to the body, then it stopped. But the crack stayed open, and others were trying to get through. Somehow I know they are my fellow keepers. They are angry at what has become of the shrine, and they want revenge on the villagers. They have already claimed this boy's father who was near when the crack opened. They visit the dreams of the others to torment them."

There were too many questions to ask, and not enough time before Sidri's stamina began to wane. She had promised Jawal she would keep him safe, and she could not take any risks.

"What became of Rahun, the man who was raised from the dead? Did you see it happen?"

"He fled. Where to, I do not know. But I saw many souls pulled into him to give him life. Please, you must help them."

"You already have my word." Sidri pulled Jawal back from the boundary, the boy's body involuntarily panicking and throwing itself out of the chair. Jiriga caught him, propping him up and letting him sit at the edge of the bed as his senses returned. He gasped, touching his face as though it was a stranger's. When he was satisfied, he tried to calm himself.

"D-did I do all right?"

"You did very well," Jiriga said. "My partner was able to get what we needed from the ghost."

"Did he say anything about my father?"

"He was afflicted the same way you've been, by being too close to a powerful necromantic rite. The same ghosts that are haunting you killed him," Sidri said. "Likely your father's ghost lingers solely out of worry for you. In order to give him peace, we'll have to put everyone else to rest, too."

"We need to find this Rahun," Jiriga said.