The Archchancellor, standing at the foot of the bed, fumbled in a sack and produced a large, heavy object.
He held it aloft.
“Ah-ha!” he said.
Windle peered at it.
“Yes?” he said, helpfully.
“Ah-ha,” said the Archchancellor again, but with slightly less conviction.
“It’s a symbolic double-handled axe from the cult of Blind Io,” said Windle.
The Archchancellor gave him a blank look.
“Er, yes,” he said, “that’s right.” He threw it over his shoulder, almost removing the Dean’s left ear, and fished in the sack again.
“Ah-ha!”
“That’s a rather fine example of the Mystic Tooth of Offler the Crocodile God,” said Windle.
“Ah-ha!”
“And that’s a…let me see now…yes, that’s the matched set of sacred Flying Ducks of Ordpor the Tasteless. I say, this is fun!”
“Ah-ha.”
“That’s…don’t tell me, don’t tell me…that’s the holy linglong of the notorious Sootee cult, isn’t it?”
“Ah-ha?”
“I think that one’s the three-headed fish of the Howanda three-headed fish religion,” said Windle.
“This is ridiculous,” said the Archchancellor, dropping the fish.
The wizards sagged. Religious objects weren’t such a surefire undead cure after all.
“I’m really sorry to be such a nuisance,” said Windle.
The Dean suddenly brightened up.
“Daylight!” he said excitedly. “That’ll do the trick!”
“Get the curtain!”
“Get the other curtain!”
“One, two, three…now!”
Windle blinked in the invasive sunlight.
The wizards held their breath.
“I’m sorry,”
he said. “It doesn’t seem to work.”
They sagged again.