a pleasant surprise a year from now, won't they?" she said in a tone that hinted she didn't entirely believe that would be the case.
Selwyn spoke quickly, for she'd started to turn back around. "But my father ... I'm worried about my father. That he might do something hasty and foolish. That he might try to rescue me himself, or go after Bowden, who sentenced me to this fate. And then they might do the same to him, or kill him outright."
She was regarding him blankly.
"I'm worried that if my father doesn't know I'm safe, he may do something rash that will endanger his own safety."
Elswyth said, "Are you trying to ask something?"
She was a witch, Selwyn reminded himself. Despite the fact that she looked like somebody's grandmother, she was not used to the love and concern of families. "I'm asking if my service to you can begin tomorrow. I'll carry your pack out for you," he assured her hastily. "I'll accompany you wherever you want to go. But I want to stop by home first, and let my parents see I'm unharmed, and let them know I'll be coming back in a year."
"But you won't," Elswyth pointed out "For surely your villagers would take your continued existence badly."
"Oh." Selwyn was embarrassed he hadn't thought of that. "Then, I'll tell my parents that I'm unharmed, but that, obviously, I won't be able to return home. They'll be satisfied with that, if they have to be, so long as they know I'm safe."
Elswyth was shaking her head. "If
you
suspect that your father might attempt rescue or vengeance, surely others will have the same thought. They'll have set up a watch on him."
The hard part was knowing she was probably right.
"Then," Selwyn said desperately, "can
you
send word to them?"
"Would that be before or after your father tries his rash scheme and is punished for it?"
"Well, what do you suggest?" Selwyn cried out in frustration.
"That you let the world take care of itself," Elswyth said.
"We're not talking about the world," Selwyn said. "We're talking about my family."
Elswyth looked at him with that face of hers that gave away nothing of what she was thinking.
Selwyn tried to control his ragged breathing. "I need," he said, "to prove that I didn't kill Farold. That's the only way I'll ever be able to return. That's the only way my family can ever go back to being what it was."
Elswyth's eyebrows went up skeptically, but she didn't contradict him. "What are you asking?" she asked.
"I'm asking that the year I promised to give you be delayed, until after I've proven my innocence."
"And what are you offering in return?"
Selwyn tried to evaluate her, as she so clearly kept evaluating him. "More time?" he asked hesitantly.
"Another year," she agreed.
Selwyn's heart sank. But if he could survive a year in her service, surely he could survive two.
Elswyth said, "You will give me two years of service for delaying the start of that service until tomorrow morning."
"Tomorrow morning?" Selwyn squeaked.
"You asked for tonight."
"But that was to explain to my parents," Selwyn said, "not to undertake to prove my innocence."
She held out her arms to show she was being open and generous. "How long? If you never succeed, does that mean you will never fulfill your obligation to me?
There must be a time limit, after which you will come to me whether you have achieved your quest or not." Selwyn was about to say he supposed that was fair, when she said, "One week. In exchange for one more week of freedom, you will give me a third year."
"But—"
"If you haven't accomplished what you propose in one week, what makes you think you'll ever be able to? If you feel, at the end of that week, that you are close to proving your innocence, come speak to me about it, and we'll see what can be arranged."
Selwyn had a vision of the entire remainder of his life spent in her service.
"Agreed or not?" Elswyth asked.
"Agreed," Selwyn said, for he had no choice. "Except—"
This called her back as she was once again beginning to