“Yes, my lady.”
“And you want the couch back?”
“Very much so, my lady.”
“The overlord rather likes it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, my lady, as we really must insist upon its return.” Kilisha’s voice was unsteady as she said this-she was defying the lords of the Hegemony! “My master’s indisposition is related,” she explained. “We must have the couch to restore him to health.”
“Ah. And you say one of my tax collectors is responsible?”
“Only indirectly, my lady. A spriggan was involved, as well, and simple misfortune.”
“Still,” she mused, “it would seem that I owe it to you to make amends.”
“If you could aid us in recovering the couch..,”
“I can get you into the Fortress and to the overlord’s door,” Nuvielle said, “but beyond that I’m afraid it’s between you and Wulran.”
“Wulr-Wulran?”
“My nephew Wulran. The overlord.”
“Of-of course, my lady.” Kilisha’s voice squeaked embarrassingly as she spoke. Between her and Wulran? But “Wulran” was Wulran III, Overlord of Ethshar of the Rocks, Triumvir of the Hegemony of the Three Ethshars, Commander of the Holy Armies and Defender of the Gods. And she was just Kilisha of Eastgate, a mere apprentice.
“Would you care to accompany me back to the Fortress right now, to take care of this?”
Kilisha started to say yes, then stopped.
All her life, and never more than these past few days, she had always rushed into things, never planning ahead but just doing whatever she thought needed doing. She had gone chasing cats without stopping to think, had gone chasing furniture unprepared, and had just generally hurried off thoughtlessly. Ithanalin had spent the past five years trying to teach her to plan out her actions, to make sure everything was ready before she began a spell; she had been lectured repeatedly about the dangers of haste, especially where something as dangerous as wizardry was involved. While she had finally learned to prepare spells properly, she still often dashed headlong into everything else.
This time, though, she wouldn’t. This time she would take the time to plan and prepare, to think it through.
For one thing, Yara had ordered her to stay in the house.
For another, she wanted to have suitable magic ready, in case she needed it.
For a third, tackling something as big and smart as the couch alone seemed foolhardy. It clearly was clever-whatever portion of Ithanalin’s spirit it had gotten had plainly included the wiles necessary to get past the Fortress guards and into the overlord’s apartments, and furthermore it had chosen to do so, so its motivations were, to say the least, not obvious. Kilisha thought she might want all the help she could get.
“I must make some preparations, my lady,” she said. “The couch may not be entirely cooperative, and I want to be ready.”
“As you choose. When shall I expect you, then?”
Kilisha hesitated. Surely, the Lady Treasurer of Ethshar of the Rocks was not about to rearrange her schedule to suit the preferences of a wizard’s apprentice!
“Would midmorning suit you, perhaps?” Nuvielle suggested.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes, tomorrow; shall we say, two hours before noon, at the north door of the Fortress?”
Kilisha bowed deeply. “That would be excellent, my lady. I am most grateful for your assistance.”
“Tomorrow, then,” Nuvielle said, acknowledging the bow with a nod. She turned.
Kilisha stood in the door and watched her go, then stepped inside. She closed the door, made certain the latch was behaving itself, and then allowed herself a broad smile.
“Tomorrow!” she said. “Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow!”
Behind her the spriggan giggled, and chirped happily, “Tomorrow!”
Chapter Twenty-six
When Yara returned home to prepare supper she encountered Kilisha standing in the kitchen, grinning foolishly. “I found it!” the apprentice said.
Yara started to smile; then her brows lowered and she frowned. She called in the children and sent them upstairs with a few quick pats, then turned back to Kilisha. “You found the couch?”
“Yes!”
“But I told you to stay here!”
“I did stay here!” Kilisha protested.
“You used magic?” Yara said, the frown softening.
“No,” Kilisha admitted. “Someone told me where it is. I’ve arranged to meet her tomorrow morning, and we’ll go get it.”
“What if it runs away again tonight, though?”
“I don’t think it will,” Kilisha said. “It’s in the Fortress.”
Yara blinked. “How did it get in there? There are guards everywhere!”
“I don’t know. Nobody seems to know. That’s where it is, though.”
“Why arc you waiting until morning?”
“Because I promised you I wouldn’t leave the house today! And besides, I want to have some time to prepare, and I want to bring along some help-I was thinking Opir and Kelder and Adagan would be good, if they’re willing. The couch is heavy, and it might be hard to catch.”
“Do you think so? Will the four of you be enough to carry it all the way down from the Fortress, then, and up here?”
“Oh, once we’ve caught it and gotten it outside I intend to levitate it,” Kilisha said. “I’m a wizard, after all.”
“You’re an apprentice.”
“And a wizard, Mistress,” Kilisha insisted. “I’m a member of the Guild, even if I am just an apprentice.”
Yara looked at her silently for a moment, then said, “I suppose that’s true. You’re sure you can levitate it safely?”
“Absolutely sure, Mistress. I have the spell already prepared and tested.” She patted her belt pouch. “It’s in a potion.”
Yara considered her husband’s apprentice a moment longer, then said, “Good. Then help me with supper.”
A few minutes later, as Kilisha lifted a heavy pot of water onto the stove and Yara trimmed a leg of lamb, Yara said, “I’m not sure Opir and Adagan and Kelder will all be stopping by this evening.”
“That’s all right,” Kilisha said as she pushed the pot into place on the hottest spot. “I’ll send them a message tonight.”
Yara put down the knife she had been wielding. “How? I don’t want you or Telleth running around the streets-”
“The Spell of Invaded Dreams,” Kilisha interrupted. She stepped back from the stove, then glanced at Yara. “At least, I know I can reach Opir that way. I’m assuming Kelder told the guard at the Fortress his true name, and I think I remember it. Adagan I’m not sure about, since so many magicians use false names, but he lives so close that I could stop by easily enough.”
“The Spell of Invaded Dreams?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“And you thought of that yourself, instead of rushing out on foot?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Then you really arc starting to think like a wizard, finally!”
Kilisha smiled. “Yes, Mistress,” she said.
Yara picked up the knife and went back to work. It was several minutes later that Kilisha heard her mutter, “Good!”
That night Kilisha gave the spriggan careful instructions, laced with the most terrifying threats she could think of, then went to bed early.
The spriggan obeyed, awakening her around midnight- though she wished that it had found another method, rather than jumping up and down on her head shrieking, “Wake, wake! You said wake!”
“Shut up!” she hissed, grabbing for the creature in the dark but missing it as it danced aside. “You’ll wake the whole house!”
“You said wake,” it insisted.