favor obligation

“It’s Thomas,” she agreed. She exhaled. “You understand that you’ve asked for my help. You know what that means, right?”
“Obligation,” I said.
“Yes. You’ll owe me. And those scales will have to be balanced. It’s … like an itch I can’t scratch until they are.”
“You’re still you, grasshopper.”
She regarded me for a moment, her maybe-not-quite-as-human eyes huge, luminous, and unsettlingly, unnervingly beautiful in her gaunt face. Her voice came out in a whisper I had last heard in a greenly lit root-lined cavern on the island. “Not always.”
I felt a little chill slide around inside me.
She shook her head and was abruptly the grasshopper again. “I’m willing to do whatever I can to help you. Are you willing to balance whatever I offer up?”
“He’s my brother,” I said. “Duh.”
She nodded. “What is it you want?”
I told her.
She was quiet for a long time. Then she said, “Tricky. Difficult.”
“If I could do it myself, I wouldn’t be asking you, grasshopper. Can you do it?”
She sipped more of the drink, her eyes sparkling as they narrowed. “Are you questioning my phenomenal cosmic powers?”
“Well, you’ve been so busy globet-rotting doing Winter Lady stuff,” I drawled. “Let’s just say I’m curious if you’ve kept your wizard muscles in shape.”
“Hah!” she said, grinning. Then her expression sobered. “I’ve done some work like it lately. The skills aren’t the issue.” She leaned toward me a little, her eyes intent. “Harry. I need you to be absolutely sure. Once a bargain is done, there’s no going back. And I will hold you to it.” Her expression flickered, for just a second suddenly looking much less sure. “I don’t get a choice about that.”
“He’s my brother,” I said. “I’m sure.”


Peace Talks Chapter 16, Page 155