“Kilisha, what’s going on?” Adagan asked, still clinging tightly to his broom.
“I’ll tell you later,” Kilisha said, as she marched back home, with the coat-rack held overhead.
“Can I help?” Adagan called a moment later, but by then Kilisha was struggling to get an uncooperative coat-rack through Ithanalin’s front door and was far too busy to answer.
At last, though, she got the entire thing inside, still raised above her head—where it was now trying to get traction against the ceiling, to prevent Kilisha from transporting it any further into the house. It was succeeding well enough that Kilisha was afraid it would force her back against the motionless Ithanalin, knocking her and the wizard off their feet.
“Telleth!” she called without looking for the boy—her attention was focused entirely upward, on the squirming implement in her tiring hands.
The door slammed, and she heard the click of the lock. She let out a sigh, lowered the coat-rack to the floor, and released her hold.
“There,” she said.
The coat-rack scurried away from her, toward the far corner of the room.
“You can do whatever you want,” she told it, glaring and wagging an admonitory finger, “so long as you stay in this house. You belong here, and we’re going to need you here later, but we don’t want to hurt you, and we don’t care what you do for now so long as you don’t go anywhere or hurt anyone. Do you understand?”
The coat-rack hesitated, then nodded its top.
“If you get out again, we will hurt you. We’re magicians, so we’ll be able to find you no matter where you go.”
It shuddered, then nodded again.
“Good.” She relaxed, and lowered her pointing finger. She looked around.
Yara was in the door of the back room, staring at her. The spoon and bowl were nowhere in sight.
The three children were standing behind her, just inside the door, staring up at her open-mouthed. She stared back, wondering why they looked so astonished; they were a wizard’s children, and they had all seen plenty of magic before. Surely, an animated coat-rack wasn’t that amazing.
“Kilisha,” Telleth asked, “what’s going on?”
“Yeah,” Lirrin said, “I never heard you yell like that before!”
Kilisha sagged, then sat down on the floor with a thump.
Yara and the children would need to know, if they were going to help—and she wasn’t sure she could do the job without their help. Choosing her words carefully, she began to tell them what had happened.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kilisha was perhaps halfway through her explanation when Lirrin’s remark registered properly.
She had been yelling at the coat-rack, and threatening it—and technically, that coat-rack was her master. She had done things an apprentice must never do! She stopped speaking and her hand flew to her mouth.
“You looked funny holding the coat-rack,” Pirra said, breaking the sudden silence.
“Yeah,” Telleth said.
Kilisha threw a guilty glance at the coat-rack. She would need to apologize to Ithanalin once he was re-assembled, and hope he wasn’t too angry.
But first she needed to collect the remaining pieces.
She glanced at Yara; the wizard’s wife was standing silently, her expression worried. She had been listening to the explanation, as well. Kilisha blinked at her, then turned back to the children.
“Anyway,” she said, “the magic took pieces of your father—maybe pieces of his soul, or maybe something else, I’m not really sure—and put them in all the furniture. We need to collect all the furniture back together so we can put all that back into the master, and bring him back to life.”
“The furniture?” Lirrin looked around the empty room. “All of it?”
“All of it,” Kilisha confirmed. “It’s not that bad,” she added, seeing Lirrin’s expression. “We already got the bowl, and the spoon, and the coat-rack. Now we need the couch, and the table, and the rug…”
“The bench,” Telleth said, looking at the empty space by the hearth.
“And the chair,” Lirrin said, pointing.
“And that’s all, isn’t it?” Kilisha asked. “Just five more pieces, and we’ve found three already. We’re almost halfway there!”
“How are you going to find them?” Telleth asked.
“I don’t know,” Kilisha admitted. “Do you have any ideas?”
“Ask one of Daddy’s friends,” Lirrin said. “One of the other wizards.”
Kilisha blinked foolishly at the little girl, and for a moment no one spoke.
“Well, of course,” the apprentice said at last. “Of course that’s what we’ll do! Your father was…is a member of the Wizards’ Guild, so I’m sure the other wizards will be glad to help out.”
Even as she spoke, she was wondering why she hadn’t done that immediately, instead of wandering aimlessly through the streets looking for the escaped furniture. True, she had, through sheer luck, found three of the missing pieces, but really, what had she been thinking? She should have gone to the Guild at once! This was obviously the sort of thing that called for consulting the local Guildmaster. Especially with that stuff still bubbling quietly on the workbench; that might be dangerous, and unidentified, potentially dangerous magic was definitely Guild business.
She frowned as she tried to remember just who was the local Guildmaster. Ithanalin had certainly mentioned the name a few times…
Chorizel, that was it. Chorizel of Wizard Street.
Just then Yara said, “I have the bowl and spoon in two of Thani’s cages, the ones he uses for those pets he makes for the lords and ladies, but I don’t think we have a cage that will hold the coat-rack.”
Kilisha glanced at the coat-rack. “We should put it on a leash, then.”
“I’ll find one,” Yara said. She turned and vanished into the back room.
Just then someone knocked at the front door.
“Oh, death,” Kilisha said. “Is that a customer?” She remembered that the spell Ithanalin had been preparing had been meant for a customer, to bring a bed to life.
Lirrin had dashed to the front window at the sound of the knock, and now she called, “It’s Adagan!” Before Kilisha could respond, she added, “And Nissitha.”
Curious neighbors, come to see what had the wizard’s apprentice chasing furniture through the streets. Kilisha sighed; she really didn’t want to deal with this right now, but before she could say anything the latch released, and Telleth opened the door.
The coat-rack, which had been quivering in the corner, made a dash for the open door and freedom, but Kilisha had half-expected that; she lunged and caught it as it passed. It was quick and agile, but its legs were so short that it could not actually get up much real speed.
It struggled, but she had learned from experience; as soon as she could get a decent grip she lifted it off the floor.
“Get inside if you’re coming!” she called, as she hoisted the squirming thing to shoulder-height. From the corner of her eye she saw Adagan and Nissitha scurry in, and then Telleth slammed the door.
She put the coat-rack down again; it backed off a few steps and stood, trembling.
“You heard me talk about a leash, didn’t you?” she asked.
The coat-rack nodded.
“That’s because we can’t trust you,” she explained. “If I knew you would stay put, I wouldn’t try to tie you up, but you’re just so nervous about everything that I’m afraid you’ll run away at the first opportunity. You keep getting scared and changing your mind.”
For the rest of her life Kilisha could never quite figure out how the coat-rack accomplished it, but it looked sheepish.
“I promise we aren’t going to hurt you,” she said. “I’ll see about making the leash as generous and comfortable as we can, but really, we need you, and we just can’t let you stay loose. Do you understand?”
The coat-rack seemed unsure how to respond to that.
&nbs
p; “Well, whether you understand or not, that’s the way it is,” Kilisha said. “Now, could you please wait quietly for a moment while I talk to our guests?”
The coat-rack essayed something resembling a bow, and toddled back to its corner. That done, Kilisha turned to face the neighbors.
Nissitha was staring at the lifeless Ithanalin; Adagan was staring at the coat-rack.
“Kilisha, what’s going on?” Adagan asked.
Kilisha sighed. It appeared she was going to be repeating this explanation often.
“A spell went wrong,” she said, “and Ithanalin’s life is spread through all the furniture from this room. I need to get it all back together so I can undo the spell, and I need to hurry, because the master had another spell cooking and I don’t know what it is or what it might do.”
That was the short version, but it seemed to be enough.
“What can I do to help?” Adagan asked.
“I need to find the rest of the furniture,” Kilisha said.
Adagan frowned. “I don’t think I can do much about that,” he said. “I might be able to help calm it down when you find it, though.” He glanced at Nissitha. “Can you locate any of it?”
Nissitha, startled, tore her gaze from Ithanalin and looked at the others. “What?”
“Can you locate the other furniture?” Adagan repeated.
“Oh,” Nissitha said. “Uh…no.”
“But you’re a seer!” Telleth said. “It says so on your sign!”
“Yes, but I don’t work for free,” Nissitha said, drawing herself up proudly.
“I’m sure that Ithanalin will be glad to pay you, once he’s restored,” Kilisha said. “He could do a spell for you in exchange. Or if a simple one would do, I could do it, even if he’s not restored yet.”
“I am not interested in trading,” Nissitha said.
“Then Ithanalin could pay you in gold,” Kilisha said. “I know he has money—Lady Nuvielle paid for her new pet just the other day.”
“The tax collector probably got it all,” Nissitha sniffed.
“The tax collector didn’t get anything,” Kilisha said. “The animated furniture scared him off.”
“I don’t work on credit,” Nissitha said.
“Yara could pay you.”
Nissitha still hesitated, and Kilisha suddenly understood. When Nissitha had said she didn’t work for free, that was just an excuse. Her first simple “no” when asked whether she could help was the real truth.
“Surely, you’re willing to help out a neighbor!” Adagan said.
Nissitha turned to glare at him. “I don’t see you doing any spells for free!”
“I don’t know any that would help,” Adagan said. “I can cure warts and calm fears and the like, but finding runaway furniture is beyond me.”
“Well, it’s beyond me, too!” Nissitha said.
“Why didn’t you just say so?” Telleth demanded.
“She didn’t want to admit it,” Kilisha said quickly—she realized, a little late, that any further discussion might establish beyond question that Nissitha was a fraud, and that that would not make for a happy neighborhood. “Magicians don’t like to say they can’t do something, Telleth, you know that!”
“No, I…”
Adagan stepped gently on Telleth’s foot before he could finish the sentence, and Kilisha threw the witch a grateful glance. He had apparently reached the same conclusion she had.
Just then Yara reappeared from the back carrying a coil of rope, and Kilisha seized the opportunity. “You three go help your mother,” she said, patting Lirrin on the back of the head.
The children hurried to obey—or at least, to watch their mother struggle with the intermittently-cooperative coat-rack. Kilisha watched them scamper across the room, then turned back to the neighbors.
“So what will you do now?” Adagan asked quietly.
“I need to talk to Chorizel,” Kilisha said.
“Chorizel?” Nissitha asked. “Why him? There are cheaper wizards on the street.”
“Guild rules,” Kilisha said.
Adagan nodded; Nissitha threw him a glance, then turned up an empty palm. “I don’t suppose you care to explain what Guild rules have to do with this. Surely, you don’t have a rule specifically covering who an apprentice should consult when her master turns himself into a roomful of furniture.”
“I’m not permitted to tell outsiders the rules,” Kilisha replied.
That was the truth; Guild rules forbade her explaining the Guild hierarchy to outsiders, or admitting that Chorizel was a Guildmaster. A master wizard was allowed some discretion, but not an apprentice.
Nissitha shook her head. “You wizards are all mad,” she said. “It comes from working with chaos. And you’ve gotten it younger than most.”
“We don’t exactly…” Kilisha began. Then she stopped. There was no reason to defend the Guild to Nissitha, or explain that wizards didn’t work directly with the chaos that underlay reality, but only with symbols that tapped into it. “I need to talk to Chorizel,” she said.
“Then go talk to him,” Yara called. “I have this tied up.”
Kilisha turned to see that a loop of rope was now tied tight around the coat-rack just below the hooks, while Yara held the other end of the line and the children stood by, ready to grab the rope if the coat-rack tried to flee.
“Good,” Kilisha said. “I will.” She turned back to Adagan and Nissitha, and said, “If you two could please tell everyone that we’re looking for escaped furniture…”
She was interrupted by a knock.
“Now what?” Kilisha said. Before she could object, Nissitha reached over.
Before Nissitha touched it, however, the latch sprang open of its own accord, and the door opened. Kilisha remembered that the latch, too, had been animated in the disaster. She would want to talk to it when she had a moment; it was being far too cooperative for its own good.
Right now, though, she looked to see who had knocked.
A stranger in a green and brown silk tunic stood outside. “I have an appointment with Ithanalin,” he said.
“He’s not here,” Nissitha said; she started to close the door. Kilisha jumped to intervene, and caught the latch.
The handle wiggled under her grip, but she ignored it. “You must be the customer he mentioned!” she said.
“Yes?” the man said, tentatively.
“I’m his apprentice,” Kilisha said quickly. “I’m afraid there’s been an accident.
The customer was staring past Nissitha at Ithanalin, and Kilisha resolved to move her master away from the front door. “Is he…” the man began.
“He’ll be fine,” Kilisha said, pushing herself in front of Nissitha and blocking the customer’s view of the wizard. “In a day or two. And I’m sure he’ll finish your spell then. I’d do it myself, but I’m afraid I haven’t learned all the necessary secrets yet. Could you tell me, please, where I can reach you when the master is himself again?”
“I live on Steep Street, near the corner of Hillside.” He frowned. “What happened?”
Kilisha saw no reason to hide the truth. “A spriggan spilled the potion my master was preparing,” she said. “It will need to be re-done. I’m very sorry for the delay, and I’m sure my master will give you a discount for the inconvenience.”
“I promised my wife…”
“I know, but really, there’s nothing we can do. It should just be a couple of days.”
“Who are these two?” the man asked, looking at Nissitha and Adagan.
“Just neighbors who stopped in,” Kilisha said.
“That’s my shop next door,” Nissitha offered.
“And mine just beyond,” Adagan added.
“Wizards?”
“No,” Nissitha said.
“I’m a witch,” Adagan said.
“Oh.”
“I’ll send you a message as soon as we know when the spell will be ready,” Kilisha said.
The man
looked uncertain. “You’re sure…”
“Quite sure,” Kilisha interrupted.
The man hesitated a second longer, then turned up a palm. “All right,” he said. He tried to peer over her head, but Adagan shifted to block his view, and reluctantly the man turned and departed.
Kilisha released the door, and Nissitha slammed it. The latch clicked a few times, apparently annoyed, then settled into place.
“This is going to be bad for business,” Kilisha said. “I’d hoped to fix things before word got out.”
“You seem very certain you’ll be able to fix them,” Nissitha said.
“I am,” Kilisha said.
This was not literally true. She was not certain she could fix the situation, but she was certain someone could. After all, there were hundreds of wizards in Ethshar of the Rocks; surely one of them could reassemble Ithanalin. Javan’s Restorative didn’t look like that difficult a spell, and if that didn’t work, some other spell would.
How hard could it be?
But it was definitely going to hurt business, turning away customers this way.
“I need to talk to Chorizel,” she said, “but before I do, could you give me a hand? I want to move my master to the back, where people won’t see what’s happened to him.”
Nissitha grimaced. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Oh, come on,” Adagan said, stepping toward the motionless wizard.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nissitha had fled once Ithanalin was moved, but Kilisha had left Adagan there, to help Yara and the children should anyone else turn up at the door.
She wished she could have stayed herself, but somebody had to talk to Chorizel, and she was the only wizard on hand. She was only an apprentice, but she was still a member of the Wizards’ Guild.
The sun was low in the west, brushing the rooftops as she hurried along Wizard Street. The afternoon had slipped away in capturing the bowl and spoon and coat-rack, explaining the situation to everyone, and sending away the confused customer. It was the middle of Harvest, and the days were getting shorter, but it was still dismaying to realize that she must have spent hours on all that.
The only good side she could see was that Chorizel would probably be at home, getting ready for supper, rather than out somewhere.
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