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 swallowed.
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.