Ithanalin’s Restoration

Chapter Twenty-five

Reassembling a smashed egg with Javan’s Restorative was different from repairing a stick-largely because of the liquid nature of its contents-but was not, Kilisha was pleasantly surprised to discover, significantly more difficult. A shattered earthenware mug was midway between the two.

She ignored the occasional voices in the parlor and kitchen, and the frequent activities of the spriggan.

Allowing for rest periods and preparation time those few iterations of the spell used up most of the afternoon, and after the last Kilisha decided that further attempts could wait until after supper. She undertook her usual chores, sweeping out the kitchen and picking up after the children, then did a quick inventory of the furniture and the spriggan before returning to the kitchen to assist Yara with dinner preparations.

As she chopped carrots and onions for the soup Kilisha asked whether there was any news of the couch, and Yara responded with a detailed report that lasted well into the meal but, in the end, came down to “no.”

Kelder had mobilized the city guard-that portion of it not committed to other, more urgent activities such as guarding the Fortress in case Empress Tabaea launched an attack, or running errands for the Wizards’ Guild in their attempts to analyze and neutralize the self-proclaimed empress, or preparing refuges for the fleeing nobility of Ethshar of the Sands. The guards at all eight gates had denied seeing any ambulatory furniture leave the city, and at least a hundred other guards were patrolling the streets, looking for the couch and spreading the news that it was wanted.

Of course, they would be patrolling the streets in any case, as part of their ordinary duties, but Kelder had assured Yara that they would also be searching for the missing couch.

Opir had all of Kilisha’s friends and family from Eastgate and the surrounding neighborhoods making inquiries through the usual network of chatter and gossip. Yara thought it very unlikely that the couch could be in Eastgate, or would even have passed through-it would have been seen, and the news would have been reported by now. The search had now spread to Eastside, Lake-shore, and Farmgate, and should eventually take in the entire city- save perhaps the wealthy areas where neighbors gossiped at fancy balls and dinners, rather than in the streets and shared courtyards.

Istram had brought word to the Wizards’ Guild, and the missing couch would be placed on the agenda for discussion as soon as Tabaea had been dealt with. In the meantime, several wizards and apprentices had promised to tell him if they saw such a couch.

And in their own neighborhood, on Wizard Street between Lakeshore and Center City, Adagan and Nissitha and others were making inquiries. Nissitha was very proud of the effort she was putting in, but as yet had no positive results.

Kilisha was impressed by the extent of the net being cast, but even so, after a moment she remarked, “Except for the soldiers, we haven’t heard anything from the south half of the city, or from the waterfront.”

“Not yet,” Yara agreed. “If the couch isn’t found soon, we’ll have to start looking there.”

“What if we never find it?” Lirrin asked, worried, and Pirra burst out crying. Yara quickly jumped from her chair and snatched up her youngest to comfort her, hugging her to one shoulder. Pirra’s weeping faded to a whimper.

“We’ll find it,” Kilisha said. “You can’t hide something as big as a couch forever!”

“You can if it’s invisible,” Telleth said.

“Yes, but it’s not invisible,” Kilisha said.

“How do you know?” the boy asked.

“It wasn’t invisible when it left here. Kelder saw it go. And it doesn’t have any hands to work spells with, so it couldn’t turn itself invisible.”

“Well, what if some evil magician, a demonologist or a sorcerer or someone, turned it invisible?”

Kilisha glowered at him. “Why would anyone do that?”

“I don’t know — but why else hasn’t anyone found it yet?”

“There arc plenty of places to hide in this city,” Kilisha said. “Someone will find it eventually. You’ll see.”

And with that she pushed away her half-finished meal and stalked back into the workshop, where she went through Ithan-alin’s book of spells once more, looking for some magic that might help find the couch.

She found none, and in the end set about practicing Javan’s Restorative again, failing her first attempt to reassemble a shattered jar, then getting it right on the second try.

She also repaired and cleaned a torn tunic, and fixed a toy juggler Telleth had broken a twelvenight before; she had decided that if she was going to work the spell, she might as well make it useful, rather than specifically breaking things so that she might restore them.

The jar, the tunic, and the toy all came out as good as new, gleaming and flawless. By the time she finally went to bed she wondered why the spell wasn’t used more often.

Of course, the ingredients weren’t free, and it took at least an hour, usually more, of a wizard’s time — hardly reasonable for repairing broken toys. It really wasn’t an especially difficult spell, though. She was confident that she would be able to use it to restore Ithanalin, once she had all the pieces.

All she needed was the couch, and with so many friends out looking for it, it would surely turn up soon. She told herself, as she lay on her narrow bed, that it would probably be found within a day or so.

It wasn’t. The nineteenth and twentieth of Harvest passed without any news. Kilisha grew very tired of working the same spell over and over, and eventually, despite Yara’s insistence that she practice the Restorative, she began reviewing some of her other spells instead. The possibility of making a few homunculi to join the search for the couch occurred to her, but a careful study of a few likely spells in Ithanalin’s book convinced her that she was not yet ready to attempt them on her own, with no master to guide her hand-or to interpret Ithanalin’s sometimes cryptic phrasing.

She wished she could go out looking for the couch herself. When the searchers continued to report no success she had begun to wonder whether it might have somehow gotten up on a rooftop, or in a ditch somewhere; she wanted to levitate herself again and see if she could spot it from above. She almost managed to convince herself that she had missed it before because she had only looked at ground level, at streets and courtyards and gardens.

Yara, however, forbade Kilisha to leave the house. “I don’t trust the furniture, let alone that spriggan,” she explained. “I want someone here who knows magic, and who can catch them if they get away. And I want someone here in case the couch comes back, or someone comes by with news.”

Kilisha was tempted to argue, but resisted. “Yes, Mistress,” she said.

Yara herself, though, felt free to go out searching, or recruiting more searchers. By the afternoon of the twenty-first it seemed as if half the city was looking for that red velvet fugitive. Yara and the children had gone to Arena and Bath to post more announcements on the message boards and see whether anyone had responded to yesterday’s crop, and Kilisha had the house to herself- except for the furniture, milling about the parlor and tangling the ropes, and the smaller pieces thumping in their boxes, and the spriggan swinging by its fingertips from the edge of the workbench.

She was staring at the heap of jewelweed, trying to decide whether to attempt yet another iteration of Javan’s Restorative and wondering what she could try it on this time, when someone knocked on the front door.

The distraction was welcome, and the possibility that someone might have found the couch gave her steps speed as she leapt from the stool and hurried to the parlor. She dodged the bench as she ran to the door.

The latch had already unlocked itself; Kilisha had to give it only the slightest tug to open the door and find herself staring at the tall, dark-haired beauty who stood on the stoop.

Kilisha had expected Kelder or Opir or Adagan, or perhaps Istram. It took her a moment to adjust to the reality and recognize this visitor.

“Lady Nuvielle!!” she said. She bowed hastily. “A pleasure to see you, my lady; but alas, my master is indisposed.”

“Is he still? I’m sorry to hear that,” Nuvielle replied. “But perhaps you can answer my question, apprentice-Kinsha, is it?”

“Kilisha, my lady. And I fear I have not yet studied animations, and can tell you very little about your pet dragon.”

“It’s not about the dragon.”

Kilisha blinked, trying to imagine what else the noblewoman might want. “Did you wish to order another creation, then? Or some other spell?”

“No. I came here to ask a question. I came here three days ago to ask the same question and was turned away, and this time I am resolute-I will have an answer.”

Kilisha remembered almost bumping into Nuvielle while chasing the spriggan; it had not occurred to her that the Lady Treasurer might have been headed to Ithanalin’s door. Kelder had told her he had turned away a customer, and she had not bothered to ask who the customer might have been, but presumably that had been Nuvielle.

If it wasn’t about the dragon, though, then what could she want? Was there a problem with the taxes, perhaps?

Whatever the aristocrat wanted, she was clearly determined, and the simplest thing to do was to cooperate. “Of course, my lady,”Kilisha said. “I apologize for the inconvenience.” She hesitated, then said, “I would invite you in, but I fear the shop is disordered at the moment.”

“Is it?”

“Very much so.”

“Is your couch missing, then? The rather good one, dark wood with crimson velvet upholstery?”

Kilisha’s jaw dropped-something that until that moment she had thought merely a figure of speech. She quickly snapped it shut again, and said, “How did you know? I mean... have you seen it?”

“I believe I have, yes. That was the basis for my question.”

“Then by all means, my lady, please tell me more! The couch’s absence has been a matter of great concern to us!”

“It’s quite an unusual couch, isn’t it? I’ve never seen another quite like it, have you?”

“No, my lady.” Kilisha fought down the urge to say more, to demand an immediate explanation; Nuvielle would come to the point eventually, and there was no need to antagonize her.

“Do you know where it’s from?”

“No, my lady. My master had it when I first came here, and I never thought to ask.”

“I rather admired it when I came here before, and I did not recall ever seeing another quite like it, which seemed entirely fitting for a wizard’s parlor couch-and then a few days ago I did see another like it, under surprising circumstances, in a room I had visited a hundred times, and it seemed a very curious coincidence-so curious that I wondered whether it was merely a coincidence, or whether that same couch had somehow been transported.”

“Where is it, my lady?”

“Well, that’s what’s so strange about it-how is it you don’t know?”

Kilisha began to suspect that Nuvielle was deliberately teasing her. “It escaped, my lady,” she said. “The accident that left my master indisposed animated that couch, and it fled. We are very eager for its return, but we don’t know where it went.”

“Ah.”

She was teasing. “My lady, please,” Kilisha said. “Where is it?”

“I wonder how it got past the guards? It must be quite clever. For a couch.”

“Guards?”

“At the Fortress door,” Nuvielle said.

“It’s in the Fortress”

There had been sign after sign that some of the furniture had wanted to get into the Fortress-Kilisha couldn’t begin to imagine why-but she had thought that was impossible. The doors were locked and guarded, and surely something the size of a couch couldn’t have slipped in unnoticed!

Nuvielle nodded. “It is, in fact, in the overlord’s private apartments. He thought the household staff must have placed it there as a surprise for his birthday. He was very puzzled when they denied it, but he’s been too busy with other concerns to pursue the matter. And I was quite startled to see it there.”

Kilisha swallowed. The notion that the overlord himself was involved in Ithanalin’s little disaster was rather distressing. “Did you tell him where it came from, my lady?”

“No, because I wasn’t certain,” Nuvielle said. “I did say I’d seen one like it once, and would make some inquiries, and here I am. You say it escaped?”

“Yes, my lady. A tax collector interrupted one of my master’s spells, then left the door open, allowing the couch to escape.”

“A tax collector? One of my tax collectors?”

“Yes, my lady.”

For a moment the two women stared at one another, then Nuvielle said, “That was very careless of him.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And you want the couch back?”

“Very much so, my lady.”

“The overlord rather likes it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, my lady, as we really must insist upon its return.” Kilisha’s voice was unsteady as she said this-she was defying the lords of the Hegemony! “My master’s indisposition is related,” she explained. “We must have the couch to restore him to health.”

“Ah. And you say one of my tax collectors is responsible?”

“Only indirectly, my lady. A spriggan was involved, as well, and simple misfortune.”

“Still,” she mused, “it would seem that I owe it to you to make amends.”

“If you could aid us in recovering the couch..,”

“I can get you into the Fortress and to the overlord’s door,” Nuvielle said, “but beyond that I’m afraid it’s between you and Wulran.”

“Wulr-Wulran?”

“My nephew Wulran. The overlord.”

“Of-of course, my lady.” Kilisha’s voice squeaked embarrassingly as she spoke. Between her and Wulran? But “Wulran” was Wulran III, Overlord of Ethshar of the Rocks, Triumvir of the Hegemony of the Three Ethshars, Commander of the Holy Armies and Defender of the Gods. And she was just Kilisha of Eastgate, a mere apprentice.

“Would you care to accompany me back to the Fortress right now, to take care of this?”

Kilisha started to say yes, then stopped.

All her life, and never more than these past few days, she had always rushed into things, never planning ahead but just doing whatever she thought needed doing. She had gone chasing cats without stopping to think, had gone chasing furniture unprepared, and had just generally hurried off thoughtlessly. Ithanalin had spent the past five years trying to teach her to plan out her actions, to make sure everything was ready before she began a spell; she had been lectured repeatedly about the dangers of haste, especially where something as dangerous as wizardry was involved. While she had finally learned to prepare spells properly, she still often dashed headlong into everything else.

This time, though, she wouldn’t. This time she would take the time to plan and prepare, to think it through.

For one thing, Yara had ordered her to stay in the house.

For another, she wanted to have suitable magic ready, in case she needed it.

For a third, tackling something as big and smart as the couch alone seemed foolhardy. It clearly was clever-whatever portion of Ithanalin’s spirit it had gotten had plainly included the wiles necessary to get past the Fortress guards and into the overlord’s apartments, and furthermore it had chosen to do so, so its motivations were, to say the least, not obvious. Kilisha thought she might want all the help she could get.

“I must make some preparations, my lady,” she said. “The couch may not be entirely cooperative, and I want to be ready.”

“As you choose. When shall I expect you, then?”

Kilisha hesitated. Surely, the Lady Treasurer of Ethshar of the Rocks was not about to rearrange her schedule to suit the preferences of a wizard’s apprentice!

“Would midmorning suit you, perhaps?” Nuvielle suggested.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, tomorrow; shall we say, two hours before noon, at the north door of the Fortress?”

Kilisha bowed deeply. “That would be excellent, my lady. I am most grateful for your assistance.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Nuvielle said, acknowledging the bow with a nod. She turned.

Kilisha stood in the door and watched her go, then stepped inside. She closed the door, made certain the latch was behaving itself, and then allowed herself a broad smile.

“Tomorrow!” she said. “Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow!”

Behind her the spriggan giggled, and chirped happily, “Tomorrow!”