“We should ask anyone we can,” Kilisha agreed. She glanced through the open door of the workshop, and noticed the sprig-gan-she hoped it was the same spriggan, and it certainly appeared to be from her present vantage point-perched atop Ithanalin’s sheet-draped head, sitting back comfortably and drumming its heels on the wizard’s right ear. “Even spriggans-if you see any today, ask them if they know where the couch is.”
“Spriggans?” Yara turned and glared into the workshop. “Talk to those little pests?”
“They might know something,” Kilisha said. “Oh, they’re stupid and annoying, but they can smell magic and they can talk, so we might get a hint from one.”
“I’ll talk to them, Mama!” Lirrin called.
“I’m going to go around to all the gates,” Kilisha said, “and talk to the guards to make sure the couch didn’t leave the city.”
Yara blinked at her in surprise. “All the gates? That would take all day!”
Kilisha had not really thought about that. She had been thinking of Eastgate and Farmgate, the two she had visited before, but of course there were others-Wargate and Newgate and Grandgate and Southgate and Northgate... was that all of them? She tried to remember the view from the air.
Oh, Cliffgate. That was all, she was fairly sure. She counted on her fingers.
Eight gates, spread around three leagues of wall. Yara was right-that would take all day. Kilisha sighed.
“What if it got on a ship and sailed away?” Pirra asked.
“Then the gods arc being cruel and it’s hopeless,” Kilisha said. “But really, who would let a velvet couch on board a ship? Something that size couldn’t stow away very easily.”
“Maybe someone should ask down in Seagate and Southport,” Telleth said. “Just to be sure.”
“There are docks in Bywater, too!” Lirrin pointed out.
“Those are mostly just for fishing boats,” Telleth retorted.
“Would a couch know the difference?”
“There are only five of us,” Kilisha said before Telleth could reply. “We can’t search everywhere.”
“But what if we need to?” Lirrin asked. “We might not find it if we don’t look everywhere!”
No one had a good answer to that. After a moment’s awkward silence, Yara said, “I don’t want you asking at all the gates. We’ll get someone else to do that. Could you make a homunculus for the job, maybe?”
“The master hasn’t taught me any animations yet,” Kilisha said.
“Well, I still don’t want you spending the entire day checking the gates. I want you here as much as possible, in case some other spell goes wrong-you’re the only one here who knows any magic.”
“The neighbors-”
“I don’t want the neighbors!” Yara interrupted. “I want a member of this household to be ready. I want you to stay here and keep an eye on Thani’s magic and practice the spell you’ll need to revive him. I was scared half to death when you were out roaming around the city yesterday; I was constantly worrying about whether that thing on the lamp in Thani’s workshop was going to explode or bubble up a demon or something. The rest of us will find the couch-or you know, maybe it will come home on its own.”
“It might,” Kilisha admitted. After all, if it had any of Ithanalin’s memories it would know this place was home.
But it had had a day and a half, and it hadn’t returned yet.
“Then you’ll stay.”
“Mistress, I can’t practice the spell without jewelweed,” Kilisha protested. “I found the bench and the coatrack-I could-”
“I’ll get you your jewelweed from the herbalist, right after breakfast,” Yara said. “You’ll stay here.”
Kilisha swallowed her half-formed protest and bowed her head. “Yes, Mistress,” she said.
And while she was waiting for the jewelweed, she told herself, maybe she would take another look through Ithanalin’s book of spells. Perhaps she might yet identify the brown goo. Or perhaps she might find an animation she could use to create a homunculus, as Yara had suggested.
Perhaps she could make a whole swarm of homunculi......
But no, she knew better than that. Animations were difficult, unreliable spells-that was why Ithanalin hadn’t taught her any yet, and why they were so expensive, and why the World wasn’t overrun with wooden servants, talking gargoyles, and self-pouring teapots.
She sighed.
“Eat,” Yara ordered, serving out the last of the salt ham, and Kilisha sat down at the table to eat her breakfast.
The meal was finished and Kilisha was clearing the plates when a thought struck her.
“We might be able to find a thread or a splinter or a flake of varnish from the couch,” she said.
“And what would that do?” Yara asked, as she wiped crumbs from Pirra’s face. “Do you know some divination you could use, then?”
“Not a divination,” Kilisha said. “Cauthen’s Remarkable Love Spell. The one I used on the rug.”
“No,” Yara said immediately.
“Why not? It worked, didn’t it?”
Yara scrubbed Pirra’s face vigorously before replying, “Do you know what that rug tried to do when I was locking it up? And there was the spoon, before that. They’re small enough that I can handle them, but I do not want an amorous sofa chasing me around the house, trying to lift my skirt or stroke my hair! No more love spells. None. Is that clear?”
“But it’s really-”
“I said no, Apprentice!” She flung the facecloth at the empty bucket by the door.
“Mistress, I-”
“ You, Apprentice, are a naive young virgin. I am a respectable married woman, and I am telling you that I do not want any more formerly inanimate objects enamored of me, because it’s weird, in ways you probably don’t understand. It makes my skin crawl. I’ve put up with a lot in twelve years of marriage to a wizard, but there arc limits. Nor do I want any portion of my husband’s soul to fall in love with anyone else. You will not use any more love spells on the couch or any of the other furniture. You won’t use them on anything except paying customers. Is that clear?”
Kilisha had never before seen Yara direct this sort of speech at anyone except her children, but she knew better than to argue further. “Yes, Mistress,” she said, as meekly as she could.
“Good. Now, why don’t you check on your master, and then start practicing the spell to restore him?”
“I need jewelweed, Mistress.”
“I’ll go get it. Find something useful to do until I get back.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Kilisha clasped her hands behind her back and stared at the floor.
A thought struck Yara. “Actually, you can watch the children. I’ll be quicker without them.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
A few minutes later Yara had left, bound for the nearest herbalist-which would probably be old Urrel, in the little shop on the corner of Arena Street, Kilisha thought. Yara had partially relented on demanding Kilisha care for the children; she was taking Pirra with her, but Telleth and Lirrin were still upstairs.
Kilisha came back down the stairs after ensuring that her two charges were safe, then wandered into the workshop to check on things there.
Ithanalin had not moved, of course, and the sheet was still in place, but crooked; she straightened it.
The boxes holding the dish, spoon, and rug were still where they belonged, and still locked.
The goo in the brass bowl was still simmering, but looking far less gooey, as most of the moisture had cooked out of it; she checked the oil in the lamp and added another cup. The concoction was beginning to smell somewhat foul, like sour wine, but it didn’t seem to be doing anything dangerous.
She looked into the parlor, where the chair and the table were having a shoving match. “Stop that!” she barked.
They ignored her. She marched in and pulled them apart, whereupon the table ran to the far end of its tether and stood by the back wall, turning back and forth, while the chair rocked side to side in what looked like a dance of triumph. The ropes that connected them all to the line in the chimney had gotten somewhat tangled, but Kilisha decided it was not worth trying to separate them; the furniture would undoubtedly just tangle them up
