Ithanalin’s Restoration

Chapter Twenty

Kilisha had forgotten to draw the curtains or close the shutters on her garret window, and the morning light awoke her earlier than she might have liked. She had been up far too late waiting for Yara.

But she had duties, so the idea of closing the drapes and going back to sleep was discarded immediately. Instead she sighed, sat up on her pallet, and reached for her apprentice robes.

A few minutes later, dressed and brushed and with her favorite feathered hair ornament in its accustomed place, she carried the chamber pots and wastewater out to the sewers behind the house, then headed for the pump at the other end of the court to fetch the morning’s supply of water, idly wishing as she went that she had managed to apprentice herself to a wizard who knew how to create water magically. She had heard of a spell called Eshom’s Freshwater Spring, for example....

But there was probably a catch. There usually was, with wizardry. The spell might call for some especially rare or loathsome ingredients, or require an impractical amount of time and effort for the water thus obtained. If it were really useful then everyone would use it, the way every wizard knew at least one combustion spell to avoid meddling with flint and steel.

Ithanalin had taught her one of Eshom’s other spells, the Oenological Transformation, which turned water to wine, but the Freshwater Spring wasn’t in her master’s book of spells, so someone in the chain of masters and apprentices had presumably not thought it worth passing on. Or perhaps Ithanalin or his own master had bought the Oenological Transformation, rather than learning it as an apprentice, but at some point someone had learned the one and not the other. Changing water to wine was good for impressing people, but not really much use beyond that-the ingredients included a dragon’s scale, which cost considerably more than a decent bottle of wine, so the spell didn’t save any money. A single scale could be used several times before its virtue was exhausted, but not enough to make the spell a bargain.

So if someone had thought that spell was more use than Eshom’s Freshwater Spring, then the Spring must have some serious drawback.

Some of the neighbors were out in the courtyard, dumping their wastes and fetching water just as she was; Kilisha waved to a few, but did not say anything beyond a brief acknowledgment of their greetings.

The earth of the court was muddy and slightly slick-apparently it had rained during the night, though the sky was mostly clear now, with just a few pink-edged clouds scudding across the brightening blue. That made the footing tricky, and she had to be careful not to spill anything.

She was still wondering what the flaw in the Freshwater Spring might be as she carried the two heavy buckets back to the kitchen. She was almost to the door when Adagan called her name from his own back door.

She nodded to him, but didn’t stop until he called, “Wait a minute!” He was hurrying across the muddy kitchen yards.

Reluctantly, she lowered the buckets and asked, “What is it?”

“Did you find all the furniture? I saw you and the soldier bringing back some of it on a rope yesterday, but then you were flying around later, and I wasn’t sure whether you might be looking for more.”

“We’ve got most of it,” Kilisha said. “Everything but the red velvet couch-you know the one I mean?”

“Yes, of course. The one Ithanalin’s customers sit on for presentations.”

“That’s the one. I haven’t seen it since it got animated. So yes, I was looking for it when I levitated.” A sudden thought struck her. “Have you. seen it?”

Adagan turned up an empty palm. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “I’ll let you know at once if I do.”

“Yes, please. And tell anyone else you know to keep an eye out, would you? I think we’ll need all the help we can get to find it.”

“Of course. Do you have any idea where it is?”

“It was last seen heading west on the East Road, toward the Fortress,” Kilisha said. “But that was two days ago. It could be anywhere.”

“I suppose it took shelter during the rain last night.”

Kilisha looked up, startled. “I hope so,” she said. “Rain wouldn’t be good for the finish. Or the fabric.”

“No,” Adagan agreed.

“I need to get this water inside,” Kilisha said, picking up the buckets. “Yara will want it.”

“Of course. But do let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. And I’ll tell everyone I know about the couch.”

Kilisha nodded, and then hurried inside.

Yara was waiting, Pirra clinging to her skirt. “Any news?” Yara asked.

“No, Mistress,” Kilisha replied.

“I heard your voice.”

“Adagan the Witch was asking whether there was any news. I told him we still need the couch, and asked him to keep an eye out for it.”

“Oh, Adagan.” She glanced at the door. “What about the other neighbors?”

“I didn’t speak to anyone else, Mistress.”

“We should ask them if they’ve seen it.”

“I’ll do it, Mother!” Telleth volunteered from the stairs.

“We should ask anyone we can,” Kilisha agreed. She glanced through the open door of the workshop, and noticed the sprig-gan-she hoped it was the same spriggan, and it certainly appeared to be from her present vantage point-perched atop Ithanalin’s sheet-draped head, sitting back comfortably and drumming its heels on the wizard’s right ear. “Even spriggans-if you see any today, ask them if they know where the couch is.”

“Spriggans?” Yara turned and glared into the workshop. “Talk to those little pests?”

“They might know something,” Kilisha said. “Oh, they’re stupid and annoying, but they can smell magic and they can talk, so we might get a hint from one.”

“I’ll talk to them, Mama!” Lirrin called.

“I’m going to go around to all the gates,” Kilisha said, “and talk to the guards to make sure the couch didn’t leave the city.”

Yara blinked at her in surprise. “All the gates? That would take all day!”

Kilisha had not really thought about that. She had been thinking of Eastgate and Farmgate, the two she had visited before, but of course there were others-Wargate and Newgate and Grandgate and Southgate and Northgate... was that all of them? She tried to remember the view from the air.

Oh, Cliffgate. That was all, she was fairly sure. She counted on her fingers.

Eight gates, spread around three leagues of wall. Yara was right-that would take all day. Kilisha sighed.

“What if it got on a ship and sailed away?” Pirra asked.

“Then the gods arc being cruel and it’s hopeless,” Kilisha said. “But really, who would let a velvet couch on board a ship? Something that size couldn’t stow away very easily.”

“Maybe someone should ask down in Seagate and Southport,” Telleth said. “Just to be sure.”

“There are docks in Bywater, too!” Lirrin pointed out.

“Those are mostly just for fishing boats,” Telleth retorted.

“Would a couch know the difference?”

“There are only five of us,” Kilisha said before Telleth could reply. “We can’t search everywhere.”

“But what if we need to?” Lirrin asked. “We might not find it if we don’t look everywhere!”

No one had a good answer to that. After a moment’s awkward silence, Yara said, “I don’t want you asking at all the gates. We’ll get someone else to do that. Could you make a homunculus for the job, maybe?”

“The master hasn’t taught me any animations yet,” Kilisha said.

“Well, I still don’t want you spending the entire day checking the gates. I want you here as much as possible, in case some other spell goes wrong-you’re the only one here who knows any magic.”

“The neighbors-”

“I don’t want the neighbors!” Yara interrupted. “I want a member of this household to be ready. I want you to stay here and keep an eye on Thani’s magic and practice the spell you’ll need to revive him. I was scared half to death when you were out roaming around the city yesterday; I was constantly worrying about whether that thing on the lamp in Thani’s workshop was going to explode or bubble up a demon or something. The rest of us will find the couch-or you know, maybe it will come home on its own.”

“It might,” Kilisha admitted. After all, if it had any of Ithanalin’s memories it would know this place was home.

But it had had a day and a half, and it hadn’t returned yet.

“Then you’ll stay.”

“Mistress, I can’t practice the spell without jewelweed,” Kilisha protested. “I found the bench and the coatrack-I could-”

“I’ll get you your jewelweed from the herbalist, right after breakfast,” Yara said. “You’ll stay here.”

Kilisha swallowed her half-formed protest and bowed her head. “Yes, Mistress,” she said.

And while she was waiting for the jewelweed, she told herself, maybe she would take another look through Ithanalin’s book of spells. Perhaps she might yet identify the brown goo. Or perhaps she might find an animation she could use to create a homunculus, as Yara had suggested.

Perhaps she could make a whole swarm of homunculi......

But no, she knew better than that. Animations were difficult, unreliable spells-that was why Ithanalin hadn’t taught her any yet, and why they were so expensive, and why the World wasn’t overrun with wooden servants, talking gargoyles, and self-pouring teapots.

She sighed.

“Eat,” Yara ordered, serving out the last of the salt ham, and Kilisha sat down at the table to eat her breakfast.

The meal was finished and Kilisha was clearing the plates when a thought struck her.

“We might be able to find a thread or a splinter or a flake of varnish from the couch,” she said.

“And what would that do?” Yara asked, as she wiped crumbs from Pirra’s face. “Do you know some divination you could use, then?”

“Not a divination,” Kilisha said. “Cauthen’s Remarkable Love Spell. The one I used on the rug.”

“No,” Yara said immediately.

“Why not? It worked, didn’t it?”

Yara scrubbed Pirra’s face vigorously before replying, “Do you know what that rug tried to do when I was locking it up? And there was the spoon, before that. They’re small enough that I can handle them, but I do not want an amorous sofa chasing me around the house, trying to lift my skirt or stroke my hair! No more love spells. None. Is that clear?”

“But it’s really-”

“I said no, Apprentice!” She flung the facecloth at the empty bucket by the door.

“Mistress, I-”

“ You, Apprentice, are a naive young virgin. I am a respectable married woman, and I am telling you that I do not want any more formerly inanimate objects enamored of me, because it’s weird, in ways you probably don’t understand. It makes my skin crawl. I’ve put up with a lot in twelve years of marriage to a wizard, but there arc limits. Nor do I want any portion of my husband’s soul to fall in love with anyone else. You will not use any more love spells on the couch or any of the other furniture. You won’t use them on anything except paying customers. Is that clear?”

Kilisha had never before seen Yara direct this sort of speech at anyone except her children, but she knew better than to argue further. “Yes, Mistress,” she said, as meekly as she could.

“Good. Now, why don’t you check on your master, and then start practicing the spell to restore him?”

“I need jewelweed, Mistress.”

“I’ll go get it. Find something useful to do until I get back.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Kilisha clasped her hands behind her back and stared at the floor.

A thought struck Yara. “Actually, you can watch the children. I’ll be quicker without them.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

A few minutes later Yara had left, bound for the nearest herbalist-which would probably be old Urrel, in the little shop on the corner of Arena Street, Kilisha thought. Yara had partially relented on demanding Kilisha care for the children; she was taking Pirra with her, but Telleth and Lirrin were still upstairs.

Kilisha came back down the stairs after ensuring that her two charges were safe, then wandered into the workshop to check on things there.

Ithanalin had not moved, of course, and the sheet was still in place, but crooked; she straightened it.

The boxes holding the dish, spoon, and rug were still where they belonged, and still locked.

The goo in the brass bowl was still simmering, but looking far less gooey, as most of the moisture had cooked out of it; she checked the oil in the lamp and added another cup. The concoction was beginning to smell somewhat foul, like sour wine, but it didn’t seem to be doing anything dangerous.

She looked into the parlor, where the chair and the table were having a shoving match. “Stop that!” she barked.

They ignored her. She marched in and pulled them apart, whereupon the table ran to the far end of its tether and stood by the back wall, turning back and forth, while the chair rocked side to side in what looked like a dance of triumph. The ropes that connected them all to the line in the chimney had gotten somewhat tangled, but Kilisha decided it was not worth trying to separate them; the furniture would undoubtedly just tangle them up again.

She hoped none of the furnishings managed to damage each other; that might complicate the restoration spell.

She glanced at the mirror over the mantel, then crossed the room, stepping carefully over the ropes, and asked, “Are you all right?”

I AM AS WELL AS MIGHT BE EXPECTED, it replied.

“Have you remembered what that is cooking in the workshop?”

NO.

“Do you have any idea where the couch might have gone? We have all the other pieces.”

NO.

Kilisha wondered whether the mirror might have some link to the other objects that it was not even aware of. “Did you know part of Ithanalin wound up in the spriggan?” she asked.

NOT UNTIL YOU SAID SO YESTERDAY.

Well, that would seem to indicate that no link existed. She turned away and looked at the furniture-and a thought struck her.

“Where is the spriggan?”

She hardly spared a glance for the mirror’s I DO NOT KNOW as she dashed for the door.