Ethshar 08 - Ithanalin's Restoration

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  The Spell of Optimum Strength—if she ever did get a hand on the couch she wanted to be able to hold onto it. She couldn't drink the potion while she was running, though, any more than she could cast a stupefaction.

  Sooner or later, though, if the couch kept going up, it would be trapped, wouldn't it? It must be panicking, she thought, to be going up instead of down. If it had gotten out in the streets it might have been able to dodge them forever, but it wouldn't be able to come back down these stairs without getting caught.

  Of course, there might be other stairs....

  "Someone go back down and make sure all the doors are closed!" she called back over her shoulder. "We mustn't let it get out of the Fortress!"

  "Right," someone said—a deep male voice she did not recognize. She still heard boots pounding up the stairs behind her, but perhaps not quite as many. She could not risk looking back; she might lose her footing. A stumble here would not merely let the couch increase its lead over her, but might send her tumbling down the stairs on top of the guards.

  It rounded a second landing, charged up one final flight, and at the top bounded across half a dozen feet of floor, then slammed into a door.

  And bounced off.

  Kilisha almost ran into the couch as it rebounded off the oak and iron barrier. It had clearly expected to smash right through, but the door had been stronger than it thought.

  It was trapped! Kilisha grabbed for it, and felt the overlord's hair brush her ringers, but then the couch veered to one side, to the left, and Kilisha saw that no, it was not trapped, as a long corridor extended from the head of the stairs in that direction.

  The couch ran desperately down the corridor, gaining ground on its pursuers, then suddenly stopped, turned, and rammed its way through a large window.

  "Gods!" Kilisha said, horrified. They were several stories up— she was not sure just how far. The couch and the overlord would be smashed to pieces! She dashed to the opening and looked out past the shattered glass and twisted leading, expecting to see empty air and the couch plummeting to its doom.

  Instead she saw a broad sunlit and stone-paved courtyard—the one atop the Fortress that she had seen from the air three days before. The couch was galloping across it, the overlord still trapped on the seat.

  It was already several yards away, and she was not about to just dive through the jagged remains of the window; she was not going to catch it just by running after it. She stood panting for a second or two, then reached for her pouch.

  "It's in the courtyard!"

  "It went through the window!"

  "Open this door!"

  Kilisha ignored the shouting soldiers as she pulled out a vial and looked at the label, then dropped it back and grabbed the next.

  On the third try she finally read STRENGTH; she pulled the cork and took a sip.

  A flood of warmth rushed through her; her legs straightened and her hands tightened into fists, and she had to catch herself before she crushed the vial of potion. She carefully pressed the cork back into place, not allowing herself to push on it. She had used this spell before, and knew how easy it was to break things while enchanted.

  She hoped that it would give her the speed and endurance she needed to catch the couch, and the strength to hold it.

  She tucked the vial back in her pouch and jumped through the shattered window just as the soldiers got the door opened and poured through into the courtyard.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  The couch was bounding up a staircase on the far side of the courtyard, up onto the ramparts. The overlord was still aboard, his foot still trapped under the arm; he appeared to be conscious, but was not struggling or gesturing or saying anything Kilisha could hear. Kilisha charged forward, across the court, after them.

  The soldiers were shouting, and other soldiers, who had been patrolling the battlements, shouted replies. Several of them were already moving along the ramparts, closing in from both sides toward the top of the staircase the couch was climbing.

  The couch reached the top of the stairs and turned left, trotting a quick dozen yards, only to find itself confronted by two approaching guardsmen. It wheeled on one leg and headed back in the other direction to find two more soldiers on the walkway and Kilisha already halfway up the stairs, the other pursuers close behind her.

  It was apparently cornered—but Kilisha saw that there was another way out. "Some of you get below it, so it doesn't jump!" she called. As she reached the top of the stair she grabbed the railing and glanced back to see that Adagan and one of the guards had heard her and taken heed; they were moving across the courtyard instead of climbing the stair, positioning themselves so that if the couch dove from the ramparts to the courtyard it would find them waiting.

  Opir hesitated on the bottom step, then turned and followed Adagan.

  Kilisha turned her attention back to the battlements.

  The two patrolling soldiers from the north had come up beside her, and the three of them formed a barrier closing in one end of a box. The couch stood a dozen feet to the south, and another dozen feet beyond were two more guardsmen. To the east was a sheer drop of about eight or ten feet to the courtyard, and Adagan, Opir, and a soldier were waiting at the bottom; other soldiers and curiosity-seekers were emerging from various doors and corners and gathering there, as well.

  To the west was a parapet, perhaps three feet high and a foot thick, pierced by foot-square crenelations, and beyond that wall was nothing but sky and sea. Kilisha knew that they were atop the Fortress, which stood atop the sea cliffs, which stood in turn atop the wave-washed rocks that gave the city its name; anything that went over that parapet would fall a hundred feet down a sheer stone wall and smash on the rocks below, and when the tide came in the pieces would be washed out to sea.

  The couch was trapped, cornered on a strip of stone eight feet wide and eight yards long.

  For a moment everything seemed to freeze; the couch, apparently realizing its situation, had stopped where it was. The guards on the ramparts had paused, unsure of what was happening. And Kilisha stood at the top of the steps, taking in the situation and preventing the men behind her from moving forward.

  "Don't hurt it!" she called. "It doesn't know what it's doing— it doesn't remember "who it is!"

  "Who in the World is it?" someone asked. "And why does it look like a couch?"

  "It is a couch," Kilisha shouted back. "But it has a piece of a wizard's soul trapped in it. Only it didn't get the wizard's memories."

  "It's holding the overlord," another soldier called. "I don't care who it is, it can't do that!"

  The couch turned back and forth as they spoke; at the last sentence it backed up against the parapet and squeezed down on the overlord's leg.

  "Ow!" Wulran bellowed. "It's crushing my leg!" He reached for the couch's arm, and pried at it helplessly. The couch was clearly stronger than he was; it clamped down, and Wulran was unable to loosen its grip.

  "Don't go any closer," Kilisha called, as the four soldiers started forward. "It might break his leg!"

  "But..." The nearest guardsman looked at her helplessly. "We have to do something!"

  "She's just an apprentice," one of the soldiers on the stairs behind her said.

  "She's a wizard's apprentice," Kelder retorted. "She knows what's going on here better than we do!"

  Kilisha was grateful for the vote of confidence; she wished she deserved it, but in truth, she really knew very little more than anyone else. She could only guess what the couch was thinking, what it wanted. .. .

  But maybe she could figure it out. Maybe she could talk it into releasing the overlord and coming home peacefully—and if not, she could try the Spell of Stupefaction. She stepped forward.

  "Couch," she called, "do you remember me? Kilisha, your apprentice?"

  The couch turned, and seemed to be listening—though Kilisha had no idea why she thought so. It had no ears, no eyes, no features, but it somehow seemed alert and attentive.

&
nbsp; "Nobody wants to hurt you," she said, taking another step forward.

  The couch backed away, tight against the parapet. It lifted one back leg up into the nearest crenelation, hoisting itself and the overlord up at an awkward angle. The soldiers started forward.

  "Calm down!" Kilisha called, raising one hand—but her other hand was fumbling with her pouch. She needed the bat wing and the envelope of powdered spider and about thirty or forty seconds to work the Spell of Stupefaction, and she doubted she would have the forty seconds, but at the very least she could have the bat wing and powdered spider ready.

  The soldiers and the couch stopped.

  "Couch," Kilisha called, "you're a spell gone wrong. We just want to put it right. Half of you is an ordinary couch, and the other half is a piece of my master, the wizard Ithanalin. Do you remember any of that?"

  The couch turned back and forth, clearly signaling a negative— it didn't remember anything of the sort.

  "It's true, I promise," Kilisha said. "I swear it by all the gods." The powdered spider was eluding her fingers. She had found the vial of strength potion, though, and closed her hand around it. She had an idea of how she might use that, and it wouldn't require time she didn't have. "We just want to put everything back where it belongs—put the couch back in the parlor, and put Ithanalin's soul back in his body. Won't you let us do that?"

  The back-and-forth was far more emphatic this time.

  "But don't you understand, it'll be putting everything right?"

  The couch did not bother with a mere shake this time; instead it gathered itself and sprang up onto the parapet, only just barely catching itself before it went over the edge. Several people gasped as it balanced there on two legs, one front and one rear, its other front leg hanging over the battlements, its other rear leg over that fearsome hundred-foot drop to the rocks.

  The overlord, who had been moving about trying to get more comfortable, froze in terror.

  Kilisha knew that any chance of stupefying the couch had just vanished; if she tried it now it might fall the wrong way. She forgot about the bat wing and spider.

  "Let me past," a soldier said in Kilisha's ear as he tried to move behind her to get at the parapet.

  "Don't go near it!" Kilisha shouted. "Don't you sec? It's saying it would rather die than let us catch it—and it's ready to take the overlord with it!"

  The soldier stopped, "Oh," he said.

  "Everyone stay right where you are," Kilisha said, taking another step toward the couch. "Let me talk to it. I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement."

  "I hope so," the overlord said, so quietly that Kilisha doubted any of the soldiers heard him. He was looking over his shoulder at the ocean far below.

  Kilisha hoped so, too—though she had no intention of keeping any agreement that might get made. Once the overlord and the couch were safe and separated, she intended to take the couch home with her, no matter what it might mean. She would gladly break oaths, disobey her master, anything that would get this all settled safely and restore Ithanalin to himself!

  She was trying to plan out what she could do, and had a few ideas, but it was so hard to think clearly in a situation like this!

  She needed to get the couch down off the parapet, and get the overlord off the couch, and it didn't matter which order she did it in, so long as she kept them both from falling. If she got the overlord to safety first, it would be easier to deal with the couch.

  "My lord," Kilisha called, "how is your ankle?"

  "It hurts," Wulran replied. "So does my head, for that matter."

  "Let me give you something for the pain, then." She pulled the vial of strength potion from her pouch and held it up with the label turned away—she had no idea how the couch could sec, or whether it knew how to read, and preferred to take as few chances as necessary.

  If Wulran drank the potion he would be strong enough to pry the arm off his ankle—or at least, she certainly hoped so! Once he was loose, she could worry about the couch.

  Wulran squinted at her. "What is that?"

  "Just a potion to relieve pain," she lied.

  "You know, apprentice, I'm not at all sure I can trust you. I don't know you; all I have to convince me of your identity and honesty is Nuvielle's word, and you might have enchanted her."

  "My lord," Kilisha said desperately, "I am just an apprentice— do you think I would dare put a spell on the Lady Treasurer? You know the Wizards' Guild forbids us to interfere in politics. This potion is harmless, I assure you—you can read the label for yourself."

  "Oh, fine—I would like this headache to go away, and my ankle is starting to throb splendidly, and I can't feel my toes. Bring it here." He held out a hand.

  Kilisha started to step forward.

  The couch backed up a fraction of an inch, moving ever so slightly closer to plummeting from the fortress ramparts to the rocks.

  Kilisha froze.

  "I'll toss it," she said. "Catch, my lord!" She threw the vial underhand, hoping the overlord was reasonably coordinated; she did have one more vial of strength potion, but only one.

  Fortunately, Wulran caught it easily. He glanced at the label, then at Kilisha; she nodded toward his pinned ankle.

  "Pain reliever," he said. "Thank you." He pulled the cork and lifted the bottle.

  "Just half, my lord!" Kilisha called, as he began to drink.

  As she spoke she was thinking quickly. The real danger here was falling. If she tried to work any sort of spell—not just the Spell of Stupefaction, but anything—the couch would see it, and probably think it was an attack. She did still have her other potions—would she be able to use those without sending the couch over the edge?

  She wondered what weird portion of Ithanalin's mind had wound up in the couch to drive it to this sort of behavior. All his fears and irrational whims, perhaps? Whatever the reason, the couch was clearly insane, perhaps suicidal.

  She groped in her pouch for the other potions. Both of them were levitation spells, and since the big threat was a fall there ought to be some way to use those here.. . .

  The overlord recorked the vial and tucked it into his belt.

  "Thank you," he said. "I feel better already." He started to roach tor his ankle.

  The couch leaned dangerously seaward. Soldiers started forward, then froze.

  "My lord!" Kilisha called. "Wait a moment, please!"

  "Urk," Wulran said, as he felt the couch shift. He cast an uneasy glance over his shoulder at the watery western horizon again, and straightened up.

  "I have another potion," she called. She pulled out more vials and glanced at the labels.

  "If you think it would help," Wulran said.

  V'S LEV. and T'S lev., she read. She hadn't really thought out whether Tracel's or Varen's would be more appropriate, but these were what she had. She quickly tossed one to the overlord.

  He caught it, glanced at the label, and looked puzzled. "Tra-cel's what?" he said.

  "Just drink it," Kilisha said desperately. "About a fourth of it." She reached down and uncorked her own vial.

  The overlord shrugged, pulled the cork, and lifted the potion to his lips. Kilisha took a step forward.

  And at that, the couch teetered one last time, then plunged over the edge.

  Chapter Thirty

  Kilisha did not hesitate for an instant; she dashed forward and dove through the crenelation after the couch. As she dove she screamed, "Drink it now!"

  Behind her she heard several shouts and screams, but she ignored them.

  She jammed her own vial of potion between her teeth as she pushed off from the parapet, before she really even began falling; then she reached up to brush the hair from her eyes.

  She was falling through empty air, the rocks and breaking waves rushing up at her at hideous speed, and there was the couch, and the overlord, falling just ahead of her, and the overlord was drinking the potion. She grabbed for the couch, felt her hand close on it; she tipped her head back and swallow
ed.

  And she was suddenly weightless. She stopped falling so suddenly that her head snapped back, dazing her, and her gorge rose. The couch jerked at her arm, and she felt as if her shoulder was coming apart. For an instant everything vanished in a burst of pain; then she opened her eyes.

  She was hanging in midair a few feet out from the wall of the Fortress, several stories below the parapet but a few feet above where the gray stone wall rested on the cliff. The couch was hanging from her right hand, which was closed tight around one of its legs. The overlord was still on the couch, still pinned under one arm—but his upper body was floating at an odd angle.

  "You drank the potion, my lord?" she said.

  The couch squirmed in her grasp as Wulran nodded. She tightened her grip, pleasantly aware of her own superhuman strength.

  "Then get your foot loose," she said. "You won't fall."

  Wulran stared down at the rocks. "You're sure of that?"

  "I'm sure," Kilisha said. "It's Tracel's Levitation, the same thing that's keeping me from falling. You'll stay at this height until you say the release word."

  Wulran glanced up at her, then back down at the sea. "Young woman, I trust you realize that if I die today, you'll be in an absolutely amazing amount of trouble."

  Kilisha managed to laugh. "Oh, believe me, my lord, I'm very well aware of that!"

  "All right, then." He bent down.

  The couch thrashed wildly.

  Suddenly nervous, Kilisha called, "Do you have the rest of the potion?"

  "Yes," Wulran said warily, holding up the vial. "Why do you ask?"

  Kilisha laughed again. "Well, I'm only an apprentice. I think you'll levitate right where you are, but if I'm wrong, you'll have a couple of seconds to drink the rest of that before you hit."

  "Oh, you are so comforting!" Wulran glanced up past her, then bent down again and pried at the wooden arm encircling his ankle.

  The couch struggled, and Kilisha had to devote her entire attention to keeping her grip on it. She could hear wood creak as the overlord fought to free his foot.

  "Hurry, please," she said. "This strength spell only has a few more minutes left."