In the nights that followed, Chick picked up the finer points of his latest endeavor. He was happy to learn that, before leading a Crian’s spirit on to the next realm, it wasn’t necessary to kill the being first. He had been fairly sure it wasn’t, having observed Urne at work and never seen him smother anyone with a pillow or toss a body down the laundry chute. But soon he knew for certain that a bedside summons meant only one thing: that an ailing Crian was about to expire under their own power, requiring no help from him. Chick spoke easefully to the nearly departed for five minutes, maybe ten if there were any final words to be said or machines to be unplugged, and that was all. He never did the unplugging.
The language he spoke to the dying was no sweat either. As with Deedi, it was f
