17
The ghostly Silvinio looks as he did when alive: a hefty and balding fellow in a tunic with chain mail and boots. For a long moment, the minister scans the clearing. After that, he float-walks toward a massive oak. I eye his movements carefully. Supposedly, Silvinio buried caches of magical rings that he then dug up and sold to the highest bidder. I never got solid evidence of the practice, though.
Did Silvinio hide some valuables beneath that tree?
Once he reaches his chosen spot, the ghost of Silvinio turns toward me. “Greetings, my Prince. Lovely day, isn’t it?”
I can’t believe this. “You didn’t return from the afterlife to discuss the weather.”
“No, my Prince.” Silvinio puffs out his chest. “I’m here because I made a deal with the Tithe.”
“How shocking.” My tone says the news
