The following day I took Via down to town. She was stony faced, per usual, and didn’t speak unless she responded to one of my questions. Even still, the questions were short and deadpan, as if she were annoyed.

“Do you always exist in the little mortal body?” I ask her at one point during the trip down to the village.

“Not always,” she tells me.

“So if you could, you could return to your ephemeral projection?” I pose.

She scowls, “Are you trying to get rid of me that easily, Sybil Whitman?”

“And lose your magic? No.” We’d discovered the night before that we might not need to wait for spring for the sprouts to grow in the half-acre that had been plowed. Via had used her magic to sprout what had been sown earlier that day, explaining that she refused to wait to eat good food until the summer. It turned out she did in fact need to eat and sleep, unlike our bony companions. She’d also raised the rest of the bones for me the night before, adding to our growing ranks of working skeletons four new spirits: Jim, Neil, Rose, and Morgan. They were just as excited to be of service as the rest of them, contributing to the earth with their work almost immediately: claiming to have rested far too long to rest easy.

It was admirable, honestly. The work ethic of these bones. Never before had I worked with any bones that exuded such go-getter energy. Many of the bones I raised over the years were tired, obedient bones that didn’t talk much. Not that they didn’t have their own personalities, or didn’t enjoy their servitude, just that they were different. Maybe more even-mannered? If that made any sense. These bones… These bones took charge. It could be a variation of my personal sigil and the binding I used that inferred considerable more free-will and autonomy than some of my siblings’ construct sigils. It also felt like it had a lot to do with the necromancer before me, whoever they were. Haven had said it was a man, I realize, thinking back to our conversation the day before. He seemed to have left a lasting, familial impact on these bones–one that they were eager to return to and provide for another little necromancer finding her way in the world… again.

“Sybil!”

I look up and find Maggie coming up the road to greet us.

I wave shyly, remembering my discomfort at being with strangers only the day prior. “Hey, Maggie.”

“Who is your friend?”

Via looked up at me, and I think she’s wondering if this person is worth her time. I force a smile, discomfort sitting heavily in my stomach. I wonder if I’m looking at her eyes enough, or if she’ll notice if I feel more comfortable with my eyes on the space of her forehead. “Um. This is Via.”

“Well, hi, Via!” She bends down and I can feel Via’s fury radiate off of her shoulders. “How old are you?”

She opens her mouth, ready to lay into Maggie, but I grip her shoulders tightly. “She wandered onto the farm last night. Doesn’t talk much,” I say pointedly, and feel daggers jab into me as lathes of energetic vines prickle against my hands. I ignore the pain, knowing Maggie can’t see them. “She says she’s about eleven.” That’s the closest I can gauge given the body she’s chosen.

“I didn’t wander,” Via mutters, her voice taking on a more infantile lilt. She stares up at me and back at Maggie. “I was scared.”

“Scared of what, honey?” Maggie asks.

“I woke up in the dirt,” Via rubs her hands on her slacks and looks away. Performative goddess. Sly.

“You woke up in the dirt?” Maggie’s clearly confused, until the light catches in her eyes as understanding clicks into place. “Was there a necromancer that found you?”

“Not for a loooong time,” Via moans. “But when I found Miss Sybil, I knew that I would be safe again.”

“How long have you wandered off on your own?” Maggie doesn’t seem perturbed over the necromancy, or that Via is insinuating that she is a zombie. I think about it, truly consider it, and realize that for all intents and purposes, she is a zombie.

Via’s eyes fill with tears. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, you poor thing!” Maggie pulled Via into her arms and squeezed her. Via looked up at me with a snide grin. She reassembled her face when Maggie pulled away and sniffed.

“Miss Sybil is such a nice necromancer,” she whimpered. “I’m glad she found me.”

I stare, dumbfounded at the goddess, my mouth going dry. “Well, hey–”

“Aww, yes,” Maggie says, patting Via’s cheeks. “We think so, too.” She smiles up at me and mouths, It’s okay, we know, but my mind is spinning. How long had they known? And how? I thought I’d been careful–but my constructs hadn’t been, I realize. I squeeze the bridge of my nose and collect myself. Maggie stands and takes my elbow. “Well, in any case, we’re glad to have you around, Via. Do you ladies want to come with me? I need to chat with Miss Sybil.”

Via nods, her cheeks still wet with fake tears. I fight the urge to roll my eyes and let myself be pulled to the tavern in the middle of town.

It is mid-morning, venturing on lunchtime by the time we made it to town, so there are already a few patrons in, getting a bit of a bite to eat before they return to their work. Maggie sits us in a booth and orders us both some ale. “Sybil, can we talk candidly?”

Yes, please. “Sure,” I say, trying to gather my composure. This morning so far has been one carriage wreck after another.

Maggie tents her fingers. “You’re a necromancer, right?”

I stare at her warily, and she meets my eyes calmly. I nod imperceptibly.

She claps her hands together. “Great, because we’ve been waiting for you. The land is yours.”

My jaw falls open, as if the joints that connect my mandible to my temporal bones have dissolved. “What?”

The ale gets delivered, interrupting Maggie before she can continue. She takes a deep sip, holding up her finger to me. I ignore it. “I don’t understand.”

Maggie sets her tankard down and wipes the foamy mustache from her lips. “It’s yours. Either it would go to the next necromancer to grace us this far north–rare enough, or someone respectful enough of the land and its caretakers–even rarer.” She smiled at me. “We got both.”

I catch Via staring at Maggie, and there’s something I can’t name in her eyes. I make a mental note to ask her about it later. “You’re the mayor,” I confirm with an exhaled breath, then my mind careens back to her words. “The caretakers? Do you mean the bones?”

Maggie nods. “When… well, when Jem left, they stayed on until the energy left them.”

I blink at her. “The townsfolk buried them.” It isn’t a question.

She nods. “Just bones, but they meant so much to us.”

I squint. “You’re not older than forty,” I start, “Did you know Jem?”

She smiled sadly, “Yeah. It’s been about fifteen years, I’d say. He wasn’t here for very long.”

The forlorn look on her face tells me she doesn’t want to discuss the matter any further, though I am brimming with questions. Who was he? Why does no one want to talk about him? Why did he leave when he so clearly loved the land, and the land so clearly loved him? I had no active constructs when I left home just three weeks ago, but I couldn’t imagine leaving any of my bones without some sort of conduit to feed from–letting their life dwindle away slowly over the months until they could no longer move, though their eyes could see–could no longer speak, but their minds still alive.

It sounded like torture.

I catch Via staring at me, and her slate eyes have softened. I wonder if she can read my thoughts on my face. I hide it in my own tankard, taking a long drink of it myself.

“Tell me you’ll take the land,” Maggie says, leaning forward.

“I thought I’d have to convince you over three weeks,” I counter after I swallow.

She clicks her tongue. “We’ve already been up to see the place, Sybil.”

I blink. “When?”

“When you were in town yesterday. Saw you pass around and went up to see it myself. You’ve done quite a number on the space. We didn’t want to scare you, though. Wanted you to come to us when you were more comfortable.”

I eyed her warily. “But Via gave it away?”

“Are you uncomfortable with us, Sybil?”

I think about it, then blurt. “Yes.”

She grins and finishes her ale. “Excellent.” She stands. “Let’s keep it that way.” She pats me on the back. “And stay. We could use some fresh vegetables en masse. Please keep being uncomfortable with us.”

Haven catches us as we leave the tavern, Via’s hands grip my shirt so I don’t run into her on the street. Maggie has already paid for our drinks and left. I half-believe she’ll show up on my doorstep the following day with the deeds in-hand.

“Hey,” she says, “Heard you might be here.”

I smile awkwardly. “I’m feeling a little set up.” I look down at Via, “Am I being set up?”

“Yes,” Via mumbles sweetly, but even she looks uncertain.

Haven chuckles, “You might be. Just a little bit.” She tucks her fingers into her pants pockets and shuffles her weight. “I have the roofer available, if you’re up for meeting with him.”

“Sure.” I turn to Via. “Can you go buy the things we need while I meet with the roofer?” I ask her.

“Yes, ma’am!” she salutes, grabbing the coin purse from my offered hand and bolting away.

Being called ma’am by a goddess… I will never top that, I suppose. “Lead the way.”