"It depends on the magic," Solomon explained. "Commonly our magic requires no items or focusses, but the power of Necromancy is such that we prefer to refine our control through similar items as your staff. These items can be anything, but they must be specially forged." He was carrying few items himself--his cane being the most notable. It was mundane, however. So were all his other items. In the event Raine had any magic-sensing abilities, she'd be able to tell he had no such item on him.

"Other sacrifices take other forms." He smiled. "For instance, our Elementals are very fond of fire-magic. I once heard about a man who tailored all his magic into being impervious to fire. He later fell into a river and dissolved from the inside-out as a result."

The last of the sutures disappearing made his leg itch. Solomon shifted and resisted the urge to rub the closed wound. "I wouldn't call them echoes, but they're far from true resurrections. The least are zombies which retain their intelligence for a handful of days before becoming beasts. The greatest the Necromancers have collectively managed are undying but unmagical beings under the thrall of their masters."

The White Cleaver was one of those. Solomon wondered what had happened to it. He wasn't even sure it was still alive, relatively speaking, though if so it would have reported back to the Temple. "That being said we've had some experience with vague resurrections," he said with a sigh. "You may have met or heard of an animated skeleton wandering the turtle; he is one. Accidental and only half-successful, but one of the two nearest incidents to resurrection."

Naturally, everything came back to Skulduggery Pleasant. Not only Skulduggery, but Skulduggery's odd intensity with regard to the mysterious black armour. Because, of course, the other incident was related to Lord Vile, and Lord Vile's ability to animate sorcerers, fully magic-capable and still apparently themselves--but under thrall. Solomon didn't particularly want to talk about those.