"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."