He crooks a tiny, rueful smile. "I think I told you once that I worry too much," he says. "I will do my best not to let it trouble me, if you ask. But even if this is only fuel -- it is still fuel the body needs, so it can do whatever you may need to ask of it."

His gut twinges, remembering. He ignores it.

"Even necromancy still requires a living body to begin the work."