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.