Addie glanced at Eleazar. He was reading a book, muttering to himself as he turned the pages. Addie opened the door a little more and slipped through. Charlie sat barely three paces away. She crossed the gap and held out the feather. He only stared at her. She laid it on his blanket-draped lap.

"Here," Eleazar said. "I've found that-" He looked up and saw her. "Who are you?"

"I-I'm Addie. Adeline. I came to see-"

"He's not ready to see anyone. Begone, girl."

She backed up to the doorway. Charlie didn't look down at the feather, as if trying to remember where it came from. He didn't look at her either. He closed his eyes as if she'd already left.

"Charlie?"

His eyelids flickered open, and he glanced over with annoyance.

"He needs his rest, child," Eleazar said, striding toward her. "He's not himself yet.You need to leave."

She retreated through the door into the rear.

"No!" Eleazar said, raising his voice. "Not that way."

But she was already through, already racing across the room. As she reached the kitchen door, she heard Charlie's voice, and she thought he was calling her back, telling Eleazar he remembered her now. She turned, and as she did, she saw the a.s.sistant, Rene, saw his face now as he sat there, head bowed. Saw the bruises around his neck. Saw his eyes. Open. Bulging. Dead.

Addie spun and bolted out the kitchen door.

Browning Mayor Browning's wife was home now with Charlie.When he'd left, she'd been sitting at his bedside, watching him sleep, looking very much as she had the night before, sitting at his coffin's side. She'd even had the same look on her face, anxious and afraid.

When he'd first told her the news, she'd shouted at him, for the first time in their marriage. She'd even thrown something-a plate she'd been washing, shattering it against the wall as she cursed him. She seemed to think he was pulling a prank. Yes, he'd been known to make them.Yes, sometimes, perhaps, they bordered on cruel, but this was not one he'd ever have attempted. He'd struck her, another first for their marriage. Struck her full across the face, bellowing at her that she was an ungrateful wretch, that he'd done this for her-brought back her boy-and this was how she treated him.

She'd raced out of the house then, not even pausing for a bonnet or a cloak, gathering her skirts and running like a girl through the streets, graying hair streaming behind her.

Now they were home. Her boy was home. Yet she was not beside herself with joy. Not falling to her knees to thank the Lord. She hovered over Charlie, pushing his cowlick aside, tentatively, as if the slightest touch might send him back to the other side. It was not what Browning expected. Not what he wanted. But he supposed it might take time for her to accept the miracle as real.

Eleazar had summoned him back to the community hall.Yes, summoned him, as if he were a common innkeeper.That rankled, but Browning reminded himself of the incredible debt he owed the man. Eleazar wished to speak about the other children, and he had a right to be somewhat abrupt-time was wasting, the children were wasting.

So Browning returned to the community hall. Doc Adams and Dobbs were already inside with Eleazar.

"How is Charlie?" Dobbs asked.

"Tired. Sleeping."

"That's to be expected," Eleazar said. "I fear he will not be his usual self for several days. He will require sleep, and he may be somewhat confused. His memory is weakened also. Do not overtax him."

"We won't," Browning said.

"Now, on to the matter at hand-the rest of the children. Doctor? As I was saying, I'll ask that you go round the parents up now. I'll need them all here to discuss my fee."

"About that," Doc Adams said. "I've been thinking on the . . . other part. I-I'm not certain how to tell-"

"You won't. Just bring them here. I'll discuss the rest with these two gentlemen."

As the doctor left, his words repeated in Browning's mind. The other part. How would they tell people that to bring their children back, they had to pay a life? Before Charlie was resurrected, it had seemed simple enough. Of course people would pay that price, terrible though it was. This was their children. His own wife would have gladly given her life for their son.

Except, now, having seen Charlie return, Browning wasn't as certain. No, in fact, he was quite sure that if he'd told Dorothy the cost, she'd have flown at him like a harpy, as she'd done when he said Charlie was back. She'd never have believed him. She certainly wouldn't have offered to die for the chance to resurrect their son. She'd have thought him mad.

It is madness. Desperate madness. How had they ever agreed-

No, not madness. Charlie was alive.

"How're we gonna do it?" Dobbs asked, and when Browning looked over, the blacksmith was sitting down, his face pale.

"Strangulation," Eleazar said. "That is the swiftest and cleanest way."

Dobbs raised his gaze to the man, his eyes filling with horror. "I only meant finding volunteers. We don't need to . . . to . . . take them, too, do we?"

"Do you expect me to?" Eleazar's eyes flashed with annoyance. "I took Rene's life because I owed him as much, for his years of service. He trusted me to be swift and kind. It is still an unpleasant task, one I don't intend to repeat six times."

Dobbs looked as if he might be sick. Browning's mind reeled. Six times. Strangle six people.Take six lives. How had this seemed simple before?

"Now, you must do it quietly," Eleazar said. "You cannot announce this price or you will have chaos. Even if you get your volunteers, there will be resentments and rancor for years."

"Even if we get our volunteers?" Browning turned to the man. "I thought . . . You've done this before. People must have volunteered."

"Certainly. If, as I said, they are ill or elderly and wish to escape this life. Sometimes, though, that is not the case, which is what it seems here."