Lawrence Watt-Evans - Ithanalin's Restoration

A dozen magicians? A dozen ? If she had heard that before, she should have remembered it.

But she had been distracted by her own concerns.

"I'm surprised," Opir said. "I thought all the wizards were involved in it."

"I'll start paying attention again once Ithanalin is restored!" she snapped. "As an apprentice, my first duty is to my master, and only to my master. When he's back to normal I'll worry about the usurper, and do what the Guild asks, but right now I need to work on the restorative spell and get all the pieces together."

"Oh." Opir looked around the room; the coatrack backed away, the table twirled on one leg and almost toppled over, and the bench flexed itself. "You know, Mother and Father didn't send me, I came on my own. But they did tell me, since I was coming anyway, to ask whether there's anything they can do to help out."

"Is that why you came?"

"Well, and to find out what had really happened. And to find out if you knew anything about the empress; some of the neighbors were wondering whether it might be wise to flee the city until matters settle down."

"I don't know anything about her," Kilisha said. "But if you want to be helpful, there is one thing-maybe Mother can set her informers and spies on this. I need the couch. I don't know where it's gone-we last saw it heading west on the East Road, toward Hillside and the Fortress. If anyone knows where it is, I need to know, as soon as possible. There might even be a reward, though I can't promise that without talking to Yara."

"I think we can ask around, certainly," Opir said.

"Good. Now, get out of here before Yara gets back, or the children hear you-you shouldn't be here!" She got to her feet and gave her brother a shove toward the door.

"I'm going," Opir said.

Just then a crash sounded upstairs. Opir paused and asked, "What was that?"

"Lirrin and Telleth are playing with a spriggan. I should go check on them, so will you please go?"

"All right, I'm going." He glanced at the ceiling, then reached for the door.

The latch popped open before he could touch it.

"I don't think it likes you," Kilisha said, as Opir stared at the latch.

"It's alive?"

"For the moment. Now go!" She gave him another shove.

He opened the door-and almost collided with another young man who was standing on the step, about to knock.

"Istram?" Opir said.

"Go!" Kilisha shouted, pointing.

Istram stepped to one side, and Opir slipped past him.

"I'll tell them to look," Opir called back over his shoulder; then he marched off quickly, eastward along Wizard Street.

"What was that about?" Istram asked as he stepped inside.

"A family emergency," Kilisha said. "What can I do for you, Journeyman?"

"Master," Istram corrected her. "As of last month."

"My apologies, Master Wizard. What was it you wanted?"

"I'm here to see Ithanalin," Istram said. "On Guild business."

"I'm afraid my master is indisposed just now," Kilisha said.

"Indisposed?"

"Yes."

"Indisposed howl?"

"Just indisposed."

"Could I speak with him anyway?"

"No."

"Because he's indisposed?"

"Yes."

Istram frowned. "I don't think Kaligir will consider that an adequate explanation."

Kilisha looked puzzled. "What does Kaligir have to do with anything?"

"Guildmaster Kaligir is organizing our efforts against the usurper calling herself empress in Ethshar of the Sands," Istram said, drawing himself up to his full height-which was a good bit more than Kilisha's. "He wants Ithanalin's assistance, and is somewhat irked that our master hasn't already joined the Guild's meetings. I believe the Guild wants Ithanalin to make some homunculi to serve as spies in Tabaea's palace."

"She has a palace?"

"She has the overlord's palace," Istram said. "She chased Ederd out. Now, where's Ithanalin?"

"Excuse me, but hasn't anyone told Kaligir what happened to my master?"

Istram blinked in surprise, "Told him what?"

"Oh, this is stupid," Kilisha mumbled. More clearly, she said, "Chorizel knows what happened-I told him about it two days ago! And Yara talked to Heshka and half a dozen others last night."

"Well, the news hasn't reached Kaligir or me," Istram said. "Chorizel didn't say anything. They sent me to fetch Ithanalin, since I was the only one who'd apprenticed under him. What's happened? Where is he? Did Tabaca kill him?" He looked around the room, as if finally noticing that something was not quite as it should be.

"Tabaea has nothing to do with it," Kilisha said wearily. "He's in the workshop." She led the way across the parlor; the coatrack cowered away, and the table danced aside.

"Why is all this furniture moving? What are all these ropes for?"

Kilisha turned up an empty palm without answering and marched into the workshop, where she snatched the sheet from Ithanalin's head.

Istram stared. "What happened to him?" he asked.

Kilisha sighed, and explained the accident for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Have you tried Javan's Restorative?" Istram asked, as Kilisha pulled the sheet back into place on her master's head. He was studying the brass bowl and its contents. The lamp's flame had turned most of the bowl's metal an ugly black by this time.

"Not yet," Kilisha said. "I don't have any jewelweed, and I don't have the red couch."

"Well, jewelweed's easy enough," Istram said, giving the simmering bowl of foul-smelling muck a final glance before crossing to one of the herb drawers. "The master always used to keep it right here."

"Yara's gone to the herbalist…," Kilisha began, but then Istram had the drawer open and pulled out a dried plant with white flowers and diamond-shaped leaves.

"Here it is," he said.

"That's touch-me-not," Kilisha protested.

"Same thing," Istram said. "Didn't you know?"

Kilisha was about to say that no, she didn't, when someone knocked on the front door.

"Oh, gods and spirits!" she said. Why, she wondered, had everyone in the city decided to visit now"? She hurried back across the parlor.

Istram set the stalk of jewelweed on the workbench and followed her. "Someone should tell Kaligir-" he began.

"I tried to tell Chorizel," Kilisha said, as she pushed the chair out of her path. "He insisted it would have to wait until after the usurper in Ethshar of the Sands had been dealt with." She reached for the latch, but it sprang open before she could touch it.

"Oh," Istram said. "He might have a point, at that." He stopped a few feet into the parlor, where the bench had blocked his way.

Kilisha ignored him as she peered around the door at the well-dressed stranger who stood just outside. "May I help you?" she asked.

"Is this still the home of Ithanalin the Wise?"

"Yes, it is, but I'm afraid my master is indisposed right now."

"You're his apprentice?"

"I am." She essayed a quick curtsy.

"Well, he made me a self-pouring teapot about ten years ago, and a sixnight ago my daughter broke it, and I was wondering-"

"I'm afraid he really is indisposed just now," Kilisha interrupted. "I'm sure that once he's himself again he'll be happy to enchant a new teapot for you. Could you come back in two or three days? I can't set a definite appointment until he's feeling better, but…"

She didn't finish the sentence; she was distracted by the sight of Kelder, walking up the street behind the customer, waving to her.

"Ow!"

That came from behind; she turned to see Istram fending off the coatrack. "Leave that alone!" she called. Then she turned back to the customer. "Today is the eighteenth; I'm sure my master will be well again by, oh, the twenty-second. Could you stop back then? If he's not ready right then, at the very least we'll make an appointment."