Lawrence Watt-Evans - Ithanalin's Restoration

"Maybe I should just find a different wizard," the man said uncertainly, "Well, you could do that, but as I'm sure you know, Ithanalin does the finest animation spells in the city, perhaps in the entire Hegemony. And I suspect we might be able to arrange a discount for a returning customer, especially after putting you to all this inconvenience." She smiled.

The customer ignored her smile as he realized someone was right behind him; he turned to find a large guardsman looming over him.

"I'll come back," the customer said. He slipped away and let Kelder step up to the door.

Kilisha watched the man go with mixed feelings; animating a teapot was a relatively simple and profitable engagement, but one still beyond her own abilities. She hated to see that commission walking away, possibly to wind up in another wizard's hands, but what else could she do?

"Kilisha," Kelder said. "Any news?"

"I have everything but the red velvet couch," Kilisha replied, forgetting the teapot buyer and meeting Kelder's gaze. "Do you have any idea where it might be?"

"I last saw it heading up the East Road toward the Fortress," Kelder said. "I told you."

"And you haven't seen any sign of it since then?"

"No."

She hesitated, then asked, "Could you do me a favor, then? Could you ask the guards at the gates, and make sure it hasn't slipped out of the city?"

"All eight gates?"

"Yes, please."

"That'll take all day."

"I know. I'm sorry, but-"

"Who's this person?" a voice asked from behind.

Kilisha started; she hadn't realized Istram was so close. She turned aside and made introductions. "Kelder, this is Istram the Wizard; he was Ithanalin's first apprentice, before me. Istram, this is Kelder, the tax collector who was at the door when the accident happened."

Both men made semipolite noises of acknowledgment; Istram's might have been intended as the words "Pleased to meet you."

After that the three of them stood in awkward silence for a moment. Then Istram said, "I should be going. I need to tell Kaligir what's happened."

"You're sure?" Kilisha asked. "I was hoping you could help me with Javan's Restorative, or figure out what that stuff on the lamp is."

"I might come back, if Kaligir doesn't need me-but I have no idea what's in the brass bowl, and you ought to be able to do the Restorative yourself, after five years of training."

"I'm sure I can, but I wouldn't mind having a more experienced wizard on hand when I try it."

"I'll see if I can, but the Guild really is keeping me busy."

"You're sure that's jewelweed?"

"Oh, quite sure. It's called jewelweed when you want the leaves, and touch-me-not if you want the seeds or flowers."

Kilisha stared up at him for a moment. "Why?" she asked.

Istram turned up a palm. "I have no idea," he said. "It just is."

"I could have told you that," Kelder said. "We use jewelweed leaves to soothe chafing-the oil's very cooling. What do you need it for?"

"The spell to restore Ithanalin," Kilisha explained. "You knew what jewelweed is?"

"Of course."

"Why does everyone know this but me?" She started to demand to know why he hadn't said anything, but then realized she had never asked him, had never mentioned jewelweed in his presence at all.

It was reassuring to have Kelder's confirmation, all the same; she didn't entirely trust Istram, though she couldn't say why. And this meant that she had all the ingredients for the spell, and Yara's trip to the herbalist was unnecessary.

That trip also seemed to be taking longer than it should, she realized. She hoped Yara hadn't run into difficulties, or had to inquire of more than one herbalist.

It seemed more likely that Pirra was distracting her, or that she was taking the opportunity to restock some of the household supplies.

"I should go," Istram said, moving around Kilisha toward the door. "I'll come back as soon as I have the chance."

"Please do," Kilisha said. Kelder stepped aside to let Istram pass.

Something thumped behind her, but Kilisha assumed it was just the furniture moving about. She asked Kelder, "Could you please ask at the gates? Maybe you could get some friends to ask at some of them; you wouldn't need to do it all yourself."

Kelder rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "I could do that," he said. "In fact, I could pass the word for the whole city guard to keep an eye open and look for your couch. We have a system for spreading urgent news."

"Oh, that would be wonderful!"

"I'm happy to do it, then. I still feel responsible for-"

He was interrupted by a scream from the workshop. Kilisha whirled.

"Get it off me!" Yara's voice shrieked.

Before Kilisha could react Kelder charged past her, truncheon drawn-and promptly tripped over the bench, which was running back and forth, panic-stricken, across the parlor. The guardsman managed to catch himself before he actually fell, but his rush to Yara's aid was still quite effectively interrupted.

Kilisha pushed aside the chair that was trying to nuzzle up to her, rounded Kelder and the bench, stepped over a tangle of rope, and dashed to the workshop, where she found Yara standing in the middle of the room, bent almost double, prying at the rug that had wrapped itself around her ankles. She must have come in the back way, as usual, Kilisha thought-but how did the rug get out of its box?

She would worry about that later; for now she fell to her knees, caught one edge of the rug, and tried to pull it loose.

It struggled ferociously. It was trying to climb up Yara's legs and shake off Kilisha's grip when Kelder arrived, reached down, and grabbed a handful of rug. He heaved.

Yara went over backward; Kilisha snatched at her, and managed to break her fall but not prevent it. Yara sat down hard on the plank floor.

That made it much easier to pull the rug off her legs, and a moment later Kelder and Kilisha held it by either end while it squirmed and wriggled.

"Talk to it, Yara!" Kilisha called. "It loves you!"

"Augh!"

"Mama?" Pirra called from the kitchen doorway.

"You just settle down right this minute!" Yara barked at the thrashing rug, wagging an angry finger.

The rug's movements stopped.

"Now, you go back in the box until we get the couch back! No more escapes! No more trouble!"

The rug sagged. It rippled its upper edge as if nodding, then went limp.

Kelder looked at Kilisha, who said, "The box is behind you." A moment later they had the rug secured once again. Kilisha fumbled with the lock.

"Mama?" Pirra called.

Yara had been sitting on the floor, her legs stretched out before her, and watching the rug's incarceration; now she turned and asked, "What is it, darling?"

"What's that spoon doing?" She pointed.

Yara turned and saw the spoon just as it reared up its handle and stretched out toward the waistband of her skirt; she let out a wordless shriek and smacked it away.

Kilisha saw, and dove for the spoon as it spun and skittered across the floor. She caught it one-handed.

"How did that get loose?" she demanded of no one in particular, as she got back to her feet, clutching her prize. She looked for the box that had held her first two captives.

Sure enough, its lid was wide open, flung back to one side. She looked inside.

The bowl was still there; apparently it had not been sufficiently agile to climb out the top. Kilisha dropped the spoon inside, then slammed the lid.

"Who opened these?" she shouted. "Don't tell me they both just managed to get themselves unlocked at the same time!"

"Maybe the spriggan?" Pirra said, pointing.

Kilisha turned her gaze to follow the girl's finger. Kelder and Yara turned, as well, until four sets of eyes were fastened on the little green creature that cowered under a corner of the workbench.