"For the moment. Now go!" She gave him another shove.
He opened the door-and almost collided with another young man who was standing on the step, about to knock.
"Istram?" Opir said.
"Go!" Kilisha shouted, pointing.
Istram stepped to one side, and Opir slipped past him.
"I'll tell them to look," Opir called back over his shoulder; then he marched off quickly, eastward along Wizard Street.
"What was that about?" Istram asked as he stepped inside.
"A family emergency," Kilisha said. "What can I do for you, Journeyman?"
"Master," Istram corrected her. "As of last month."
"My apologies, Master Wizard. What was it you wanted?"
"I'm here to see Ithanalin," Istram said. "On Guild business."
"I'm afraid my master is indisposed just now," Kilisha said.
"Indisposed?"
"Yes."
"Indisposed howl?"
"Just indisposed."
"Could I speak with him anyway?"
"No."
"Because he's indisposed?"
"Yes."
Istram frowned. "I don't think Kaligir will consider that an adequate explanation."
Kilisha looked puzzled. "What does Kaligir have to do with anything?"
"Guildmaster Kaligir is organizing our efforts against the usurper calling herself empress in Ethshar of the Sands," Istram said, drawing himself up to his full height-which was a good bit more than Kilisha's. "He wants Ithanalin's assistance, and is somewhat irked that our master hasn't already joined the Guild's meetings. I believe the Guild wants Ithanalin to make some homunculi to serve as spies in Tabaea's palace."
"She has a palace?"
"She has the overlord's palace," Istram said. "She chased Ederd out. Now, where's Ithanalin?"
"Excuse me, but hasn't anyone told Kaligir what happened to my master?"
Istram blinked in surprise, "Told him what?"
"Oh, this is stupid," Kilisha mumbled. More clearly, she said, "Chorizel knows what happened-I told him about it two days ago! And Yara talked to Heshka and half a dozen others last night."
"Well, the news hasn't reached Kaligir or me," Istram said. "Chorizel didn't say anything. They sent me to fetch Ithanalin, since I was the only one who'd apprenticed under him. What's happened? Where is he? Did Tabaca kill him?" He looked around the room, as if finally noticing that something was not quite as it should be.
"Tabaea has nothing to do with it," Kilisha said wearily. "He's in the workshop." She led the way across the parlor; the coatrack cowered away, and the table danced aside.
"Why is all this furniture moving? What are all these ropes for?"
Kilisha turned up an empty palm without answering and marched into the workshop, where she snatched the sheet from Ithanalin's head.
Istram stared. "What happened to him?" he asked.
Kilisha sighed, and explained the accident for what seemed like the hundredth time.
Chapter Twenty-three
Have you tried Javan's Restorative?" Istram asked, as Kilisha pulled the sheet back into place on her master's head. He was studying the brass bowl and its contents. The lamp's flame had turned most of the bowl's metal an ugly black by this time.
"Not yet," Kilisha said. "I don't have any jewelweed, and I don't have the red couch."
"Well, jewelweed's easy enough," Istram said, giving the simmering bowl of foul-smelling muck a final glance before crossing to one of the herb drawers. "The master always used to keep it right here."
"Yara's gone to the herbalist…," Kilisha began, but then Istram had the drawer open and pulled out a dried plant with white flowers and diamond-shaped leaves.
"Here it is," he said.
"That's touch-me-not," Kilisha protested.
"Same thing," Istram said. "Didn't you know?"
Kilisha was about to say that no, she didn't, when someone knocked on the front door.
"Oh, gods and spirits!" she said. Why, she wondered, had everyone in the city decided to visit now"? She hurried back across the parlor.
Istram set the stalk of jewelweed on the workbench and followed her. "Someone should tell Kaligir-" he began.
"I tried to tell Chorizel," Kilisha said, as she pushed the chair out of her path. "He insisted it would have to wait until after the usurper in Ethshar of the Sands had been dealt with." She reached for the latch, but it sprang open before she could touch it.
"Oh," Istram said. "He might have a point, at that." He stopped a few feet into the parlor, where the bench had blocked his way.
Kilisha ignored him as she peered around the door at the well-dressed stranger who stood just outside. "May I help you?" she asked.
"Is this still the home of Ithanalin the Wise?"
"Yes, it is, but I'm afraid my master is indisposed right now."
"You're his apprentice?"
"I am." She essayed a quick curtsy.
"Well, he made me a self-pouring teapot about ten years ago, and a sixnight ago my daughter broke it, and I was wondering-"
"I'm afraid he really is indisposed just now," Kilisha interrupted. "I'm sure that once he's himself again he'll be happy to enchant a new teapot for you. Could you come back in two or three days? I can't set a definite appointment until he's feeling better, but…"
She didn't finish the sentence; she was distracted by the sight of Kelder, walking up the street behind the customer, waving to her.
"Ow!"
That came from behind; she turned to see Istram fending off the coatrack. "Leave that alone!" she called. Then she turned back to the customer. "Today is the eighteenth; I'm sure my master will be well again by, oh, the twenty-second. Could you stop back then? If he's not ready right then, at the very least we'll make an appointment."
"Maybe I should just find a different wizard," the man said uncertainly, "Well, you could do that, but as I'm sure you know, Ithanalin does the finest animation spells in the city, perhaps in the entire Hegemony. And I suspect we might be able to arrange a discount for a returning customer, especially after putting you to all this inconvenience." She smiled.
The customer ignored her smile as he realized someone was right behind him; he turned to find a large guardsman looming over him.
"I'll come back," the customer said. He slipped away and let Kelder step up to the door.
Kilisha watched the man go with mixed feelings; animating a teapot was a relatively simple and profitable engagement, but one still beyond her own abilities. She hated to see that commission walking away, possibly to wind up in another wizard's hands, but what else could she do?
"Kilisha," Kelder said. "Any news?"
"I have everything but the red velvet couch," Kilisha replied, forgetting the teapot buyer and meeting Kelder's gaze. "Do you have any idea where it might be?"
"I last saw it heading up the East Road toward the Fortress," Kelder said. "I told you."
"And you haven't seen any sign of it since then?"
"No."
She hesitated, then asked, "Could you do me a favor, then? Could you ask the guards at the gates, and make sure it hasn't slipped out of the city?"
"All eight gates?"
"Yes, please."
"That'll take all day."
"I know. I'm sorry, but-"
"Who's this person?" a voice asked from behind.
Kilisha started; she hadn't realized Istram was so close. She turned aside and made introductions. "Kelder, this is Istram the Wizard; he was Ithanalin's first apprentice, before me. Istram, this is Kelder, the tax collector who was at the door when the accident happened."