That would have been virtually impossible.
“Do what?” it squeaked, in that voice so oddly reminiscent of Ithanalin’s.
“Why did you run away?”
“You scary!”
Kilisha clamped her teeth tightly shut for a moment to keep from trembling, then said, “If you think I’m scary now, you should see what I’ll be like if you ever try that again! You are going to stay in my master’s house until my master is restored to life, do you hear me?”
“Sprigganalin hear fine!”
“Do you understand me?”
The thing’s cars drooped, and its eyes widened.
“No,” it said.
“Augh!” Kilisha fought a temptation to fling the idiotic little beast against the nearest wall.
Its eyes widened even further; its cars folded back.
“Listen to me,” she growled.
“Sprigganalin listen!” it said, nodding desperately.
“You are going to stay in the house until I say you can go! If you don’t, you will never have any fun ever again, I’ll make sure of that! Your life will be the opposite of fun if you ever again set a single toe outside the door without my permission. Now do you understand?”
“Spriggans not real good with understanding.”
Kilisha’s grip on its neck tightened, and it quickly added, “But Sprigganalin stay in house! Promise, promise!”
“Good.” Her hold relaxed. “You just remember that promise.”
“Remember, yes!”
“Then let’s go home,” she said. She raised her head to get her bearings.
A good two dozen people were standing in a circle around her, staring at her.
She blinked at them, then said, “What’s the matter with all of you people? Haven’t you ever seen a wizard’s apprentice before?”
Voices muttered, feet shuffled, and most of them turned away.
One boy, a few years younger than Kilisha, pointed and said helpfully, “You’re losing your feather.”
Kilisha turned her head and discovered that her hair ornament had slid down farther, and was now almost completely loose, one corner hanging from a tangle in her hair.
“Thank you,” she said-but she didn’t do anything about it. Both her hands were still clutching the spriggan. She just turned and began marching home, trying not to bob her head enough to lose the ornament entirely.
Chapter Twenty-four
Kelder was waiting on the doorstep. “I see you caught it,” he said.
“Yes,” Kilisha said, relieved to see him still there. “Is my mistress all right? Is everything else still secure?”
“Your mistress is fine,” he said. “And I didn’t see anything else get out.”
“Good.” She looked down at the spriggan clutched in her hand and wished she had some way of confining it-but she didn’t. She stepped inside, set it on the floor, and released it.
Kelder watched as the spriggan promptly ran in circles, frightening the bench and chair. “There was another customer while you were out, but I told her the wizard was indisposed, and she went away,” he said.
“Thank you,” Kilisha said, as she disentangled the leather-and-feathcr device from her hair.
“I really need to go now-but I’ll pass the word about your couch.”
“Thank you,” Kilisha repeated.
For a moment they both hesitated, as if something more was expected but neither of them quite knew what, and then Kelder said, “Well, I’ll come back if I have any news.” He bowed, then backed out the door, turned, and was gone.
Kilisha watched him go, then looked down at the ornament in her hand and decided against restoring it to its customary place. Instead she thrust it into the pouch on her belt, closed the door, ordered the latch to stay closed, then wagged a finger at the spriggan and admonished it, “You stay in this house!”
The spriggan stopped running and stared up at her. “Stay! Stay!” it said, nodding vigorously.
“Good,” she said, as she straightened and marched to the workshop.
Yara was there, peering into the brass bowl. “This looks like overcooked beef gravy,” she said, straightening up. “What is it?”
“I don’t know what it is,” Kilisha admitted. “It’s something Ithanalin had cooking when he was interrupted.”
“Cooking? Don’t you mean brewing?”
Confused, Kilisha said, “Well, something. Heating.”
“You’re sure it’s magic? That Thani wasn’t secretly cooking behind my back?”
Kilisha realized that she wasn’t sure of anything of the sort; Ithanalin might have been cooking, and the magic her athame had detected might have just been a minor protective spell or the like. That would explain why the stuff in the bowl hadn’t done anything magical for two days. Telling Yara that just now, however, did not seem like a good idea. “There was definitely wizardry there, and it chimed once,” she said.
Yara frowned, “Chimed?”
“The bowl rang like a bell without anyone touching it.”
“Ah. Yes, that’s magic.” She nodded, then changed the subject. “You caught the spriggan? That soldier said that that was why you disobeyed my order to stay here.”
“I caught it,” Kilisha said. She was chagrined to realize that in the urgency of pursuit she had completely forgotten Yara’s orders.
“I got your jewelweed,” Yara said. “You didn’t say how much.” She lifted a sack as large as Lirrin.
Kilisha suppressed the urge to say anything about the absurdity of such an amount, or to mention that in fact Ithanalin had had jewelweed on hand all along. Instead she merely said, “Thank you.”
“I told everyone I spoke to that we were looking for the couch,” she said. “Just in case anyone sees it.”
“That’s good,” Kilisha said.
“I told them, too!” Pirra called from the kitchen.
“Good for you!” Kilisha called back.
“Now what?” Yara asked.
“Now I practice Javan’s Restorative, and we hope the couch is found soon.”
“Oh.” Yara hesitated, then asked, “Is it dangerous?”
“Any magic can be dangerous if it’s not done well,” Kilisha said, automatically quoting a statement Ithanalin had made to her countless times in the five years of her apprenticeship.
Yara recognized the words and grimaced.
“I’m sorry,” Kilisha said. “I mean, he’s right when he says that. I don’t think this spell is going to be especially difficult; Istram thought I could do it easily enough.”
“Istram?”
“Yes, he stopped by while you were out.”
“And he didn’t stay for lunch?”
“He’s on Guild business, and couldn’t spare the time.”
Yara frowned. “What sort of Guild business?”
Kilisha hesitated; Yara, despite being Ithanalin’s wife, was no wizard, not a member of the Guild or, at least in theory, privy to its secrets. All the same, this particular affair was hardly secret. “Something about the usurper in Ethshar of the Sands,” she said.
“Oh, I heard everyone talking about that!” Yara said. “Rumors are everywhere.”
“Yes, well, I don’t know any details, but the Guild is studying the situation, and Istram’s helping.”
“Good for him. Well, I hope that when this is all over he’ll come by again and stay a little longer!”