She started on the second batch of Adaptable Potion.
By the time she finished the third and final batch and extinguished the little lamp, she was sure midnight had come and gone, and she was exhausted. The possibility of making a fourth batch occurred to her, but was promptly dismissed-she couldn’t think of a fourth spell that would be worth the trouble. She carefully set the three simmering pots at the back of the workbench, guarded by an ironwork fireplace screen, then lit a candle from the still-burning oil lamp beneath the brass bowl.
Candle in hand, she glanced around the parlor, and said good night to the coatrack; it rattled in reply.
She looked at Ithanalin on her way back through the workshop and said, “I’m doing my best, Master.”
And then she found her way up the kitchen stairs to her own little bed in the attic.
Chapter Eleven
The following morning Kilisha slept later than usual- which is to say, the sun was up before she was. The air was still cool and damp and the shadows were still long and dark when she came downstairs to the kitchen and found Yara feeding her offspring their breakfast.
“There you are!” Yara said, looking up from chopping salt ham into bite-sized pieces for Pirra. “I was beginning to wonder whether you had been spirited away by demons, or gone off on some silly errand.”
“I was up late making potions,” Kilisha said.
“More potions?”
“Yes.” Only after a second’s pause did Kilisha realize she had forgotten to add “Mistress.”
Yara didn’t seem to notice. “This love potion-how did you say it works?”
Kilisha sighed. “The instant the rug sees you or hears your voice, it will fall hopelessly in love with you. Then it should follow you home, and we can capture it.”
“And then you can restore my husband?” She gestured toward the door to the workshop.
“No,” Kilisha said, “we’ll still need the bench and the table and the couch and the chair.”
“And how are you going to get those?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Yara frowned. “I don’t like this, Kilisha.”
“I don’t either!” Kilisha burst out. “I’m doing the best I can to restore the master, but it isn’t easy!”
“Well-” Yara began.
“Wizardry is dangerous,” Kilisha interrupted. “Everyone knows that. You knew it when you married Ithanalin, and I knew it when I signed up to be a wizard’s apprentice. Spells can go wrong, and that’s what happened, and it’s not my fault! I wasn’t even here, and that’s because the master ordered me not to be here. We should be glad this is something that can be fixed, that he wasn’t killed outright or turned into an ant and stepped on, or something. I’m doing what I can to fix it, but I’m just an apprentice, and I don’t know very much magic yet, and Guildmaster Chorizel was no help at all!”
Yara seemed to accept this outburst with equanimity; she did not shout back, but merely said calmly, “I know spells can go wrong. This certainly isn’t the first time Thani’s had something bad happen. I’m not blaming you.”
“I’m sorry, Mistress,” Kilisha said.
“It’s just that this is the first time a spell’s gone wrong and Thani hasn’t been here to fix it himself,” Yara explained. “It worries me.”
“I understand,” Kilisha said, remembering what she had heard about a previous incident, one that had occurred when Ithanalin’s first apprentice, Istram, had been nearing journeyman status, when Lirrin had been a baby and Pirra not yet born.
That mishap was why Yara did not allow her husband to cook. Until then Ithanalin had been very fond of cookery, and had reportedly been quite good at it-but after he accidentally got something magical into the gravy and turned his children into tree squids and his apprentice into a platypus, Yara had forbidden him to ever prepare food again. Ithanalin had turned them back without undue difficulty-perhaps, Kilisha thought, by using Javan’s Restorative, just as she intended to do, though no one had ever told her the specifics. Still, Yara had pointed out that Ithanalin had had a fork in his hand and a bite of gravy-soaked meat halfway to his mouth when the first transformation took place, and if he’d been a few seconds quicker in eating he would have been changed, as well. That would have made it all much worse. A squid or a platypus couldn’t have reversed the spell.
And this time it was worse. Instead of two tree squids and a platypus all right there in their own kitchen there were half a dozen pieces of animated furniture scattered around the city, and instead of an experienced master wizard ready to undo the spell there was a mere apprentice.
“You talked to Chorizel?” Yara asked.
“Yesterday.”
Yara considered this for several seconds, then asked, “Did you talk to Kaligir?”
“No,” Kilisha said, startled that Yara knew the name Chorizel had mentioned. “Who is Kaligir?”
“He’s the senior Guildmaster for the entire city,” Yara said. “Didn’t Thani ever tell you that?”
Kilisha hesitated, trying to remember whether Ithanalin had ever told her this. It was rather annoying that Yara, who was not a wizard, often knew Guild secrets that Kilisha did not-but then, Yara was a wizard’s wife, and the Guild didn’t expect wizards to marry fools. Naturally, Yara would have picked up a few things over the years, and would have the sense not to mention them to outsiders.
It occurred to Kilisha to wonder whether wizards who did marry fools had to enchant their spouses to keep secrets. She hoped she would never have to do anything like that.
And she glanced sideways at her mistress, wondering whether Ithanalin might have enchanted Yara. Perhaps Javan’s Geas?
Whether he had or not was irrelevant at the moment, though.
“I don’t think he said anything about Kaligir,” Kilisha said. “He told me Chorizel was our Guildmaster.”
“He is. But Kaligir is the next level up, if Chorizel isn’t helpful.”
“Chorizel was going to talk to Kaligir about something. And someone named Telurinon was involved.”
Yara stopped chopping, and carefully put the knife aside, out of Pirra’s reach. Then she looked at Kilisha.
“Do you know who Telurinon is?”
“No,” Kilisha admitted.
“Do you know what they were talking about?”
“About a usurper who’s been killing wizards in Ethshar of the Sands.”
“No wonder they’re busy,” Yara said. She glanced at the workshop door. “Do you think this assassin might be responsible for what happened to Thani?”
“No,” Kilisha said. “He tripped over a spriggan while he was working a spell, that’s all.”
“Then the Guild won’t help us. At least, not until this person in Ethshar of the Sands has been dealt with.”
“I know,” Kilisha said. “I asked yesterday.”
“Then how do I lure the rug, again? And what can I do about the other furniture?”
“Just walk around the city and let your voice be heard,” Kilisha said.
“Do I need to call to it? I’d feel foolish calling, ’Here, Rug, come home now!’ ”
“No, you don’t need to say anything in particular; it just needs to hear your voice.”
“And the other furniture?”
“Let’s get the rug first.”
Yara nodded. Then she turned to Pirra.
“After breakfast,” she said, “we’re going to take a walk down to Norcross Market, and I want you to do something special. I want you to run away from me, as if you were a bad little girl who didn’t know any better. I’ll shout at you, and then you come running back. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Mama,” Pirra said, puzzled.