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Wade was someone new was the exciting thing—not his sermon, for Brother Wade talked about Purgatory, where the souls that were not quite ready for Heaven waited. This was not a subject that Martin craved to learn more about.
    "It is our job," Brother Wade said, "the job of us, the Church on Earth, to join with the saints who have gone before us and pray for those souls in Purgatory. Purgatory is an in-between place—not Heaven, not Hell, not of Earth, but buried deep in the center of the earth."

    Finally, Brother Wade said something interesting: "Come All Hallows' Eve, the gates of Purgatory open, and the souls fly out and enter Heaven, where they join the saints and become the Church Triumphant. If you're watchful on All Hallows' Eve, you may catch a glimpse of your loved ones who have died that year as they make their way from Purgatory, through Earth, and up to Heaven."
    Martin hadn't ever heard this before.
    Martin's father didn't care for Brother Wade. It was his father's custom to provide free ale to the holy men who passed through Farnham. But none had stayed as long or drank as much as Brother Wade. "And," Martin's father complained to the family, "I never heard anyone explain Purgatory in quite that way before. I'm not even sure he has it right."
    Martin, too, found it hard to picture Brother Wade's description of the dead souls coming up through the ground on All Hallows' Eve and walking among the living one final time before breaking the bonds of Earth and floating up to Heaven. Martin had lived through sixteen All Hallows' Eves, and he had never yet seen a spirit walk, that night or any other.
    Still, Brother Wade's discourse suggested a plan to Martin, a plan that was so good it was sure to shake Raleigh out of his Lissa-induced lethargy.

    "I have a wonderful idea," Martin told Raleigh that afternoon, "for a trick to play on mean old Elfirda tonight." In truth, Elfirda was no older than his parents, but she was as sullen and cranky as a toothache. She always chased the village boys away from her property, not letting them take the shortcut to the stream, where they liked to swim on hot summer days. And every autumn, she accused them of stealing apples from her trees, when everyone could see there were too many for her and her equally ill-tempered husband to ever eat on their own. And now that Tomlin was gone, Elfirda was practically drowning in apples and should have been happy to rid herself of some. But she was as stingy with them as ever. Now, on this day of Brother Wade's sermon, Martin had seen how distraught Elfirda looked when Brother Wade talked about catching a glimpse of recently dead loved ones, for—like everyone else—she must assume Tomlin had probably gotten himself killed by now. This looked like a fine opportunity to get back at her.
    "Aw, leave the old biddy alone," Raleigh said. "It has to have been hard for her this past year, with her husband abandoning her and leaving her on her own. She has enough misery without us to add to it."

    "Well, of course, Tomlin left the old nag," Martin said. "The wonder is that he stayed as long as he did."
    Raleigh was still shaking his head.
    Martin said, "You can be the ghost of old man Tomlin. I'll run up ahead of you to Elfirda's cottage and tell her I've seen you, that you must have died in the war, and you're on your way from Purgatory to Heaven. That way I'll put the idea in her head that you're Tomlin, and we won't have to worry overmuch that you're taller and not so broad as he was." This was a great concession on Martin's part since
Martin,
in fact,
was
the right size.
    "Naw," Raleigh said. "It's a low trick. Besides, I promised Lissa—"
    "But this is All Hallows' Eve. Your plans for her can wait another night. Tonight is our one and only chance for this."
    "Still...," Raleigh said, shaking his head.
    "Never mind, then." Martin stalked away, disgusted that—once again—Lissa was all Raleigh could think about.
    But it was such a good plan,