Ethshar 08 - Ithanalin's Restoration

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  "Now you tell me!"

  Wood cracked suddenly, and the overlord's leg jerked up—but his boot, still caught, pulled off and fell.

  Both of them watched silently as the empty boot spiraled down and splashed into the surf—but now the overlord was hanging alone in midair, a few inches of space separating him from the couch. He looked around, taking in his situation, then reached out and pushed himself away from the couch so that it could not grab him again, extending that few inches to almost a yard.

  And the couch seemed suddenly heavier in Kilisha's grasp. She realized she really did only have a few minutes before the Spell of Optimum Strength wore off, and when that happened she wouldn't be able to hold the couch. She would be safe, and the overlord as well, but the couch would fall, and probably be smashed on the rocks or swept out to sea.

  After all this, she did not want to let Ithanalin down.

  With her left hand she reached across and pawed at her belt pouch, and managed to find another vial. She turned it in her fingers and read the label.

  V'S lev.

  She lifted it to her mouth, pulled the cork with her teeth, then spat the cork out. It fell and vanished.

  Varen's Levitation took two forms, and she knew which one she wanted—but would the potion do that?

  When the spell was cast directly it could be placed on either the wizard casting it, which would allow him or her to walk on air, or it could be cast on an object, which could then be placed at any height and would stay there. Could a potion cast a spell on an object? It ought to be possible, and she had certainly thought it was when she prepared the potion, but she realized now that she wasn't sure how to determine which form the spell took from a potion. She couldn't place the lantern on the chosen object when she had no lantern.

  She hoped she could choose simply by willing it. If so, then she could suspend the couch here and come back for it at leisure.

  If not, though...

  She decided not to risk it after all. She would walk up, carrying the couch and hoping that the Spell of Optimum Strength lasted until she got it safely back in the Fortress.

  And there was also the question of whether she could use Varen's Levitation at all while Tracel's Levitation was still in effect.

  She wouldn't try it. Spells could interact in dangerous ways. She would break Tracel's Levitation, then use Varen's.

  "My lord," she said, "I'm going to say a word, and then I'm going to fall, and then I hope I'll catch myself and levitate myself and the couch back up away from here. I'm afraid that will leave you hanging here, drifting—but I'm sure someone will come for you soon."

  "Wait a minute," Wulran began, but Kilisha ignored him. She had no time to spare.

  She tilted the vial, and as the first drop of potion touched her lips she spoke the single word that negated Tracel's Levitation.

  She and the couch dropped instantly, plummeting past the overlord as she quickly gulped the potion.

  They were falling down the cliff, the rocks zooming toward them, the pounding of the surf increasing from a quiet whooshing to a roar, and then she took a step and caught herself on air.

  As before, the couch's weight jerked hard at her shoulder as she came to a stop, but again she held on.

  She blinked and unsteadily took another step upward, then began climbing an invisible staircase of air, as she had a few days before, gaining confidence with every step. This time, instead of an axe with a rope dangling from it, she held a struggling couch.

  As she climbed she looked around, and saw that she had stopped no more than ten feet from the first jagged black edge of broken stone. For the first time she let herself realize that she had deliberately dived off a hundred-foot cliff toward the rocks, magically caught herself in midair, and then more or less done it again. Well, magic was dangerous, and she was a wizard. She swallowed, and trudged on, walking upward. She turned her steps, making her ascent a spiral, and looked up.

  The overlord was still hanging where she had left him, watching her. Above them, the battlements were lined with faces and waving arms as soldiers and others leaned out to see what had happened. A rope was being lowered—to the overlord, as was only fitting.

  She walked on, dragging the squirming, thrashing couch.

  "Oh, stop it," she snapped, as it gave a particularly vigorous twist. "I'm taking you home, and you don't have any choice in the matter."

  A moment later she reached the overlord's level. He had noticed the rope, but for the moment he was ignoring it and watching her. "Are you all right?" he called.

  "I'm fine," she replied, not stopping. "As long as I get back to the top before any of the magic wears off, everything will be just fine."

  He glanced up at the distance she still had to go. "Are you sure you'll make it?"

  "I'll just have to," she said.

  "There are other ropes coming," he said, pointing.

  There were, indeed, more ropes being lowered, she saw. "Well, they'll be there if I need them," she said. "But I'd rather do it myself" A thought struck her. "My lord?"

  "Yes?"

  "Once you're securely tied on, and there's no danger of falling, you'll need to break the spell," she said. "I don't think you can go down or up while it's on you."

  "Not even with the rope pulling me?"

  "I'm not sure," she admitted. "But just in case—don't say this now, but the word to break the spell..."

  She stopped in midsentence. It was only human nature to repeat a word you wanted to learn, even if you had been told not to.

  He had not yet caught the rope, and she was already above him, too far away to catch him if he fell.

  "I'll tell you later," she said. "If you need it."

  He frowned, then turned his attention to the rope.

  She waved farewell with her free hand and kept climbing.

  By the time she neared the top her right arm was almost numb, and she could feel herself weakening. As she rose above the parapet she called, "I need some help here!"

  The ramparts and courtyard were swarming with soldiers and courtiers, and although most of them were focused on pulling the overlord up to safety, a dozen rushed to her aid.

  "Bring ropes," she said. "Tie the couch down! Don't let it escape! It's stronger than it looks."

  Strong, eager arms reached out as she kept climbing. She turned her steps eastward and strode up above the parapet, across the ramparts—and finally she stopped, with the couch dangling a few feet above the stones.

  Soldiers grabbed it from every side; ropes were thrown hastily around it.

  "Have you got it?" she called feebly. The Spell of Optimum Strength was gone; she was just a tired teenaged girl holding a heavy couch by one leg, trying desperately not to drop it. Her arm was trembling, her fingers red and straining.

  "We have it," a familiar voice said, and she looked down at Kelder's broad face. She knew it was not a particularly handsome face by most people's standards, but right now she thought it was beautiful.

  "Good," she said, releasing her hold.

  Then she paused, and instead of setting her right foot above the left on her next step she carefully placed it below, beginning her descent.

  Varen's Levitation needed no magic words to dispel it; with or without the lantern, the instant her foot touched anything solid the spell would break. She walked wearily down the air until at last her sandal touched the stone pavement of the courtyard.

  And then all her magic was done, at least for the moment, and she collapsed onto the pavement, exhausted.

  She sat there for a long moment, eyes closed, trying to catch her breath; then she heard her name.

  She opened her eyes to find Kelder and Opir on either side, watching her with concern on their faces; she smiled up at Kelder, so focused on his worried eyes that she hardly noticed her brother.

  But it was Adagan who had called her. He was up on the battlements, helping to haul in the overlord. "Kilisha!" he called again. "Can you please break this spell?"


  She looked up and saw several large men struggling to support the overlord as Tracel's Levitation tried to drag him back down to the level at which it had been cast.

  Kilisha took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then called back, "I'll be right there!" Then she waved away assistance and got to her feet unaided. As soon as she was upright and reasonably confident of staying that way, she walked over to the rampart to teach Wulran III the word that would end Tracel's Levitation.

  It took him six tries before he could pronounce it properly— Wulran was obviously no wizard, or even much of a linguist. When at last he managed it the sudden cessation of pressure flung him upward from the courtyard pavement, but his guards caught him before he fell back to the stone.

  Kilisha, still a trifle unsteady on her feet, watched it all with a broad smile on her face, and with guards standing respectfully at either side.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  The couch was kept restrained under heavy guard, while Kilisha rested on a cot in one of the little watch rooms below the parapet. The only intrusion on her recuperation was a message of gratitude from the overlord, assuring her that he was safe and telling her that at some point in the future, when time permitted, he would want to speak to her at length about the day's events.

  She blinked foolishly at the messenger, trying to absorb this— the overlord wanted to speak to her again?

  Well, of course he did; naturally he would want an explanation of the whole affair. She thought she could provide that, once she was recovered a little—and once Ithanalin was restored to himself.

  "Is there a reply, my lady?" the messenger asked.

  "No, I... just my thanks," she said. "I'm glad he's safe."

  The messenger bowed and vanished, and Kilisha lay back, staring at the ceiling and breathing deeply as she let her strength return. A guardsman stood by the door, waiting for her to rise.

  When she was sufficiently recovered to travel a dozen guardsmen carried the couch downstairs, loaded it onto a wagon, and tied it down securely. Then they escorted her and the couch home.

  She rode on the wagon—but not on the couch. Adagan rode beside her, the only other passenger; Kelder had long since returned to his duties, and Opir, once he was sure his sister was intact and on her way back to Ithanalin's shop, headed home on his own.

  Kilisha's long-delayed return found Yara and the children waiting anxiously; Telleth had been standing watch at the front window and called out when the wagon and its burden came in sight, whereupon the entire family had come swarming out into the street. Their faces all showed concern; even the spriggan seemed to be worried by her long absence and the presence of the soldiers.

  The racket was enough to rouse the neighbors, as well; Nissitha emerged from her own front door before the wagon had come to a halt, and joined the party. They all gathered around the wagon as six of the soldiers unloaded the struggling couch, hefted it onto their shoulders, and brought it into the wizard's parlor.

  "What happened?" Yara asked, staring at the couch.

  "She saved the overlord's life," one of the guardsmen said.

  Kilisha, who had just clambered down from the wagon, blinked in surprise at that. She hadn't thought of it that way at all; she had thought she had endangered the overlord's life by triggering the couch's rampage.

  But really, how could she have avoided it? Perhaps if she had waited until Wulran wasn't on the couch before she said anything....

  But how could she have known he would be resting there, with his foot under the arm? And once the couch began running she had done everything she could to stop it without getting anyone killed.

  Really, she had saved the overlord's life.

  This was quite a shocking realization, and for a moment she was too stunned to speak.

  "I knew she would find the couch," Nissitha said, standing by one of the wagon's wheels.

  Adagan, who was just then climbing down, looked at her and said, "You did not."

  Nissitha's mouth fell open in surprise as she stared at him— and, Kilisha noticed, she had already been looking at Adagan, making the stare easier.

  "Of course I did!" Nissitha managed, as a few of the soldiers— those who were not trying to maneuver the writhing couch through the doorway—turned to listen. "I'm a seer!"

  "No, you did not," Adagan repeated. "And no, you are not."

  Nissitha gaped at him again. "How dare you say that?" she demanded.

  "I dare because I'm a witch, and can tell truth from falsehood, and I'm tired of hearing your self-serving lies," Adagan said wearily. "A seer? You don't even see what everyone else does, let alone anything more. You don't realize everyone on the street knows you're a fraud. You can't see that I've no more interest in you than I would in a toad. Today Kilisha has performed the most astonishing feat of bravery I have ever seen, and deserves to have a moment to glory in it before attempting a complex and difficult spell on Ithanalin's behalf, yet here you are, thrusting yourself forward and trying to take attention away from her. It's disgusting. Why don't you go away and let these soldiers do their jobs, and let Kilisha attend to her master?"

  By the end of this speech not just Nissitha, but everyone in the street had fallen into stunned silence, staring at Adagan and listening to every word. When he finished Nissitha let out a strangled gasp, turned, and stamped back into her shop, slamming the door hard behind her.

  Another brief silence fell; then Kilisha said, "That was cruel."

  Adagan let out a sigh. "I know," he said. "She'll never forgive me. But I'm tired of having her following me around, trying to seduce me, and she might have eventually gotten over anything less vicious."

  "I don't think she'll get over that any time soon," Kilisha said, gazing at Nissitha's door.

  "I'm not sure I will, either," Adagan said. "If you'll excuse me, I think I need to go home and throw up."

  "Of course," Kilisha said.

  She was watching Adagan walk away when one of the soldiers cleared his throat behind her. She turned.

  The men had gotten the couch into the house and tied it down amid the rest of the furniture; now they were tossing extra ropes back onto the empty wagon.

  "Is there anything else we can do for you, lady?" a soldier asked her.

  Kilisha blinked at him for a moment, and then, startled by her own daring, said, "Yes, actually. Would you stand guard here for the next hour or so? I need to perform a spell, and it's very important that no one interrupt me, and that nothing escape during that time."

  "Escape?" The soldier looked at one of his companions. "You mean the couch?"

  "Or any of the other furniture, or the bowl, or the spoon, or one particular spriggan," Kilisha said. "I need them all here."

  The guardsmen exchanged glances; then one turned up a palm. "As you say, lady."

  That settled, Kilisha entered the house smiling.

  Yara met her in the parlor as the furniture bumped and clattered around her. "Kilisha, what happened?"

  "Til tell you later, Mistress," Kilisha said. "Right now, I want to perform Javan's Restorative before anything escapes again. Could you help me fetch everything I need?"

  Yara started to say something — presumably, Kilisha thought, to reprimand this insubordinate Apprentice — but then she stopped, frowned, and said, "What will you need?"

  "The spriggan, the door latch, the mirror, the bowl, the spoon, the rug, the bench, the couch, the chair, the coatrack, the table— and Ithanalin," she said. "In the parlor. Oh, and I'll need incense and jewelweed and... well, I'll get those."

  Fifteen minutes later everything was in place.

  Attempting a spell of this difficulty so soon after the exhausting events at the Fortress might have been foolish, but Kilisha felt strangely invigorated, rather than tired; the ride home had given her time to recover, and Adagan had called her astonishingly brave, and the soldiers had said she had saved the overlord's life, and she felt inspired. She could not bear to wait any longer to perform this act of wizardry a
nd put an end to Ithanalin's dispersal.

  This particular performance of Javan's Restorative turned out to be far and away the most difficult Kilisha had ever managed; the furniture kept trying to move about, the spriggan squeaked and struggled constantly as Yara held it in place, and simply coordinating so many pieces amid the clouds of magical smoke was a severe strain. Kilisha's initial flush of vigor and enthusiasm faded quickly, and there were times she didn't think she would be able to finish. The work dragged on and on, well past the hour she had asked of the soldiers, past sunset and suppertime, and still she worked.

  And finally, when her reserves were completely exhausted and she knew she could do no more, a sudden silence fell across the furniture, and the clouds of magical smoke began to dissipate. Kilisha let out a breath and turned to her master.

  Ithanalin straightened up from his crouch, stretched, smiled, then turned to her and said, "I'm impressed, Apprentice. That was excellent."

  Kilisha smiled at him, and then fainted.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Kilisha awoke in her own familiar little bed, with Telleth sitting beside her and a familiar spriggan standing on her feet. She opened her eyes and turned her head to see the morning sunlight through the window.

  "She's awake!" Telleth called, leaping up. "Dad! She's awake!"

  "Awake awake awake!" the spriggan squealed, jumping up and down on Kilisha's ankle. She kicked it off, and it danced happily on the bed. By the time she looked up from the spriggan Telleth was on the stairs, heading down.

  "Thank you, thank you!" the spriggan said. "Got wizard out of head!"

  "I didn't do it for you" Kilisha retorted—but secretly, she was pleased that the spriggan hadn't been hurt, and didn't mind being back to itself. She brushed it off the bed, sat up, and reached for her robe.

  A few minutes later she ambled down the stairs into the kitchen and found the entire household gathered around the breakfast table, waiting for her. Ithanalin rose from his chair as she entered.

  "Kilisha," he said, "I want to thank you. I saw most of what happened—I remember everything that happened to all the pieces, which is the oddest sensation. I remember you demanding that you be given the bowl and spoon, I remember you coaxing the coatrack to follow you, I remember you chasing the bench, all of it."