Ithanalin's Restoration Read online

  The man mumbled something, and Kilisha turned and marched away.

  The spoon was still stroking her wrist in a thoroughly disconcerting manner, and the bowl seemed to be flexing slightly. She quickly tucked it under one arm, as its previous captor had.

  The spoon unwound its handle and the tip of that began stroking her arm. She suppressed a scream and kept walking.

  She would get these safely tucked away somewhere, under lock and key, then go out after the rest of the furniture, she told herself. She trotted quickly up Wizard Street.

  She had gone a block or so when she happened to glance down a side-street and noticed a coat-rack standing there, in the middle of the narrow little street, with no one near it.

  It was an ordinary coat-rack consisting of a square wooden post mounted on four short, curving wooden legs, with two large, graceful iron hooks on each side, one set of hooks at waist level and one set level with the top of her head. It looked absurdly out of place standing out in the open, rather than in someone’s front room.

  “What is that…” Kilisha began—and then she realized that the coat-rack was a very familiar one.

  It wasn’t moving just now, and that, combined with focusing on getting the bowl and spoon home, had been why she didn’t recognize it immediately, but it was definitely Ithanalin’s coat-rack, the one that had stood by the front door for as long as Kilisha had lived there.

  This whole furniture-collecting task might prove easier than she had expected, Kilisha thought as she turned into the side-street.

  On the other hand, it might not—she had the spoon in one hand, and the bowl under the other arm, which did not leave anything completely free to carry the coat-rack. She tried to pass the spoon from her right hand to her left.

  It wrapped itself more tightly around her right wrist.

  “Come on, let go,” she said, as she tried to tug at it with her left fingers without dislodging the bowl from her elbow—which was made more difficult by the bowl’s own slow movements. She told the spoon, “I’m not putting you down, I just want to use my other hand.”

  The spoon seemed to hesitate, then reluctantly allowed itself to be pried away.

  It promptly wrapped itself around her left wrist, so securely that she didn’t bother holding it in her hand at all. She had to keep her left elbow at her side to hold the bowl, but now both hands were free. She stepped forward and reached her right hand out for the coat-rack.

  It abruptly started to life and backed away from her, removing any possible doubt of its identity.

  “Oh, don’t be like that,” she said. “It’s just me. I’ve come to take you home.” She stepped forward again.

  The coat-rack backed away again, but found itself pressing up against the stone wall of a tinker’s shop, unable to retreat further. It shivered, then uncurled a hook and pointed it threateningly at Kilisha.

  She stopped abruptly, with the rounded end of the hook just inches from her eyes. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “It’s me, Kilisha! You’re part of my master’s spirit trapped in a coat-rack! Let me take you home, so we can restore you to your proper state.”

  It waved the hook back and forth in a definitely negative gesture.

  Baffled, Kilisha stared at it for a moment. She hadn’t really thought about the possibility that some of the furniture would actively resist capture; she had assumed that even if it was hiding, it would all have gotten over its initial panic and be willing to return home and be restored to its natural state. After all, it was all animated by Ithanalin’s spirit, and surely he would have wanted to go home.

  The coat-rack, however, clearly did not agree with her theory. It was pressing back against the stone, all eight of its hooks uncurled and pointed at her.

  The mirror had told her that the furniture had been frightened and did not remember whose life animated it, but she had still never expected so hostile a reception. She had thought it would be confused, a little skittish, perhaps, but no worse than that. The spoon had seemed downright enthusiastic about being recaptured, the bowl indifferent—but the coat-rack plainly had other ideas.

  Maybe, she thought, it had forgotten Ithanalin’s prior existence so completely that it thought it was just a coat-rack.

  “Don’t you know me?” she asked. “I’ve hung my coat on you a hundred times!”

  It shuddered, and waved its hooks back and forth. No, it did not know her, and it was clearly upset.

  “I won’t hurt you,” she said soothingly. “I promise! I’m just a girl; what could I do to a big strong coat-rack like you? You’re solid wood and iron.”

  That seemed to calm it slightly; it stopped twisting and shivering.

  It did not step away from the wall or recurl its hooks, however.

  “Come on home with me,” Kilisha coaxed. “We’ll take care of you, make sure you don’t get caught out in the rain—it would be very bad for your shellac, you know.”

  The coat-rack seemed to hesitate, then shook its upper portion no.

  “Oh, come on.”

  Again, it said no.

  “Well, I can’t force you,” Kilisha said—and as she spoke she realized that it was probably true; if the coat-rack put up a fight…

  Well, it was taller and didn’t bleed or bruise, but she was far heavier, and had hands and feet—if she could get a good grip on it out of reach of the hooks, and lift it off the ground so it couldn’t get any traction, she could probably carry it away, but holding on if it squirmed would be difficult. If it was able to get its hooks on a doorframe or sign bracket somewhere, she doubted she could pry it away.

  And that left out the whole question of what the bowl and spoon would be doing during all this.

  Fighting it bare-handed was not a good idea, and she wished she had brought some serious magic, or at least some help.

  And if just capturing a coat-rack was difficult, what would she do if the couch put up a fight?

  Talking it into cooperating seemed the only sensible solution, but she couldn’t think of what else she could tell it.

  “All right,” she said, “I won’t rush you—you come home when you’re ready. Do you remember where it is?”

  It hesitated, then waved back and forth—no.

  “It’s just up Wizard Street. If you want to follow me, you can see for yourself.”

  It took a moment to consider, then nodded. The hooks curled back to their natural shapes.

  Kilisha forced a smile. “Fine!” she said. “This way.”

  And she turned away and started for home. By an intense effort of will she managed not to look back until she was out of the side-street and back on Wizard Street.

  The coat-rack was following her, several feet back.

  She was still too dazed and upset by everything that had happened to manage a smile, but she did let out a small sigh of relief. The spoon stroked her forearm soothingly as she hurried homeward.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Yara was standing in the doorway, waiting. “Oh, thank the gods!” she said when she saw Kilisha approaching.

  “Hello,” Kilisha replied; she waved, and cast a glance over her shoulder.

  The coat-rack was still there, but seemed to be hanging back, hesitant to approach. Other pedestrians were staring at it now, which Kilisha was sure was not helping.

  The spoon and bowl, on the other hand, seemed very happy to hear Yara’s voice; the spoon was waving its handle cheerfully, and the bowl hugged Kilisha’s side.

  “Are the children around?” Kilisha asked.

  “They’re inside,” Yara said, looking past Kilisha at the coat-rack.

  “Good. We need to talk.” She carefully didn’t look back again as she walked up to the door.

  Yara stepped aside, and Kilisha crossed the familiar threshold.

  Ithanalin was still crouched, half-sitting, half-rising, on the floor; the mirror was still on the wall, and the rest of the room was still completely empty. Kilisha bit her lip as she looked around.

  S
he had hoped that some of the furnishings might have found their own way back, but obviously none of them had. There was so much yet to be done!

  And it would take planning; marching out into the streets and running around practically at random had been foolish. She was a wizard’s apprentice, just a year short of journeyman if all went well, not some silly child!

  “Kilisha,” Yara said, “is he all right?”

  “Well, no,” Kilisha replied, startled. “I mean, you can see that.” It occurred to her belatedly as her gaze returned to Yara’s worried face that maybe some words of reassurance, rather than blunt honesty, would have been appropriate.

  But she was an apprentice; lying to her master’s wife, no matter how comforting, was not fitting.

  “Is he going to be all right?” Yara asked.

  “I certainly hope so, but I can’t promise,” Kilisha replied.

  “Oh, you sound just like him! What happened? Why is he like this?”

  Startled, Kilisha said, “Didn’t you ask the mirror?”

  “I asked it questions, but it kept saying it didn’t know—it didn’t know where you were or when you’d be back or what I should do to help, and I gave up.”

  “Oh.” Kilisha frowned. “Mistress, I can’t take the time to explain right now—we need to get these things safely put away.” She held out the arm with the spoon wrapped around it, catching the bowl in her other hand. “Could you take these?”

  Hesitantly, Yara reached for the spoon—which practically jumped into her hand. It clearly liked Yara even more than Kilisha; it wrapped itself around her wrist, vibrating with pleasure so intensely that Kilisha almost thought she could hear purring.

  “Oh, my heart!” Yara said, startled; she tried to drop the spoon, but it had already secured itself, and thus released it did not fall, but instead wound its way, snakelike, up her arm, sliding into her sleeve.

  “Oh!” Yara said again. “I don’t…”

  “It won’t hurt you,” Kilisha said quickly. “Don’t lose it! It has part of Ithanalin’s spirit in it.”

  The spoon had now completely vanished into the loose sleeves of Yara’s tunic. Yara stared at her own shoulder, then blushed.

  “I think I know which part,” she said. Her bodice twitched.

  Kilisha did not need to ask what Yara meant. She swallowed at the thought that Yara was probably right, and she herself had had the spoon wrapped around her own wrist; that was hardly the sort of thing that ought to happen between a married master and his apprentice!

  It was a good thing that the person who had picked it up on Cross Avenue had been a man, rather than a woman, or she might have had a harder time convincing anyone that Kilisha owned it. For that matter, it was a good thing that Ithanalin’s preferences had been as definite as they were.

  “Here,” she said, holding out the bowl.

  Yara accepted it gingerly. “What does this do?” she asked.

  “I have no idea,” Kilisha said. “It’s got another part of his spirit, but I don’t know which.” She turned. “Did the coat-rack come in?”

  “No,” Yara said.

  “Blast! We need that, too.” She hurried back out into the street.

  There was no sign of the coat-rack.

  “Mistress,” she called, “you keep hold of those things, but could you send the kids out here to help me?”

  “All right,” Yara replied. Kilisha could hear her retreating footsteps.

  “Excuse me, sir,” she called to a nearby pedestrian. “Did you see a coat-rack go by?”

  “I think so,” the man answered uncertainly.

  “Which way did it go?”

  “Um…that way,” he said, pointing west.

  Muttering to herself, Kilisha set out back down Wizard Street.

  She had gone less than a block when she spotted the coat-rack, its square peak visible over the heads of the handful of intervening pedestrians.

  “Stop!” she called. “Coat-rack! Come back!”

  The top of the coat-rack vibrated at the sound of her voice, but it did not come to her; instead it stepped sideways, as if looking for an alley to hide in. It ducked behind the open door of a shop—Adagan the Witch was sweeping out, and had his door at right angles to the frame.

  Kilisha let out an annoyed sigh. She turned to see whether the children had emerged yet.

  Telleth was leaning out the door of the shop, looking puzzled.

  “Telleth!” Kilisha called. “Come here, please!”

  Hesitantly, Telleth came. Lirrin and Pirra appeared in the doorway, and Kilisha beckoned. “All of you, come here.”

  Kilisha glanced at the coat-rack—or rather, where she had last seen it. It was now completely hidden behind Adagan’s door.

  She could just march over there, but the silly thing might run away again; apparently it had all Ithanalin’s doubts and uncertainties. Until now Kilisha hadn’t entirely realized her master had any.

  With a little planning, though, it shouldn’t be hard to catch. Planning ahead had always been one of her weaknesses—she usually just dashed in to confront a problem, and only figured out later what she should have done—hardly the proper wizardly approach.

  This time, she promised herself, she wouldn’t do that. Too much was at stake. She would do this properly.

  She stooped down and whispered, “One of your father’s spells has gone wrong—I’m sure you already realized that. Well, I know how to fix it, but first we need to capture all the escaped furniture. Do you understand?”

  Telleth and Lirrin nodded, but Pirra turned up an empty hand.

  “It’s bad magic,” Telleth said to his baby sister. “Kilisha can fix it, but we need to help.”

  Pirra still looked worried and uncertain, but Kilisha decided it didn’t really matter whether the girl understood, so long as she did what was needed.

  “Over there, behind that door,” Kilisha said, “is the coat-rack from beside the front door. It can move around now, and we need to get it back home. It’s very shy, though, so we need to catch it.”

  “How?” Lirrin asked.

  “Well, I was thinking that if you three got behind it in a line, and held hands so it couldn’t get past you, you could chase it this way, and I could grab it and push it inside.”

  The three children looked at one another uncertainly.

  “It may threaten you with its hooks, but I don’t think it really wants to hurt anyone,” Kilisha said. “It’s just scared.”

  Telleth swallowed.

  “I think Pirra should be in the middle,” Kilisha said. “If she’s on the end it might be able to dodge past her, since she’s so small.”

  “That’s right,” Lirrin said. “Come on!”

  “Wait!” Kilisha called, before Lirrin could take more than a single step.

  “What is it?” Lirrin demanded. “We need to go, before it gets away!”

  “Yes, you do,” Kilisha said. “But make sure you go past it separately, without frightening it, and then form a line and chase it this way.”

  “Right,” Telleth said. “Come on, then.”

  This time Kilisha straightened up and let them go.

  They were brave children. They hadn’t argued with her, or cried, or said they were scared; they had just gone to help. Yara and Ithanalin ought to be proud of them.

  She wondered which piece of furniture held the wizard’s parental pride.

  She waited a moment, to give the children time to get into position, then began strolling toward Adagan’s door. “Oh, coat-rack!” she called. “Won’t you come back with me?”

  Adagan chose that moment to thrust his broom out the door, pushing a fair-sized heap of pet hairs and fireplace ash. He paused, startled, at the sound of Kilisha’s voice, then leaned out and said, “Coat-rack?”

  Kilisha had been focused on the coat-rack, so that this sudden intrusion threw her into complete confusion. “Uh?” she said.

  “You have a boyfriend named Coat-rack?” Adagan asked.

>   Kilisha blinked at him. “I don’t have any boyfriend!” she said. “I’m trying to catch the coat-rack that’s behind your door.”

  The instant the words left her mouth she knew she had made a mistake. Sure enough, the coat-rack bolted. She caught a glimpse of it as it tried to dash away—but then it ran into the children, who had formed their line as instructed, and all four of them—three children and an over-sized ambulatory stick—fell to the street in a tangle.

  “Kilisha, help!” Telleth called, and Pirra burst out crying. Kilisha ran.

  Adagan, astonished, turned to watch as the wizard’s apprentice grabbed for the twisting, curling wooden bar. He clutched his own broom tightly, as if he expected that, too, to make a bid for freedom.

  Kilisha did not try to untangle the children; she concentrated instead on getting her hands on the coat-rack, and after two or three attempts she managed to get a solid two-handed grip on it.

  It struggled for a moment, but then Kilisha pulled it out of the tangle of arms and legs and heaved it up above her head, holding it at arm’s length.

  It thrashed wildly for a moment, then paused, as if considering its situation.

  “You can’t get away,” Kilisha told it. “If you try, we may have to hurt you.” It gave another twitch, and Kilisha said sharply, “Stop that, right now, unless you want to be chopped up for firewood!”

  The coat-rack straightened out into its natural shape, beam straight and hooks curled—but it was still quivering slightly.

  Trembling, Kilisha supposed.

  Around her, Ithanalin’s three children got to their feet. Pirra was wailing, and Lirrin was trying unsuccessfully to comfort her.

  Telleth glanced at his sisters, decided they were not seriously hurt, then stared open-mouthed up at the coat-rack. Then he looked at Kilisha.

  “Would you really cut it up?” he asked. “I thought you needed it for the spell!”

  Kilisha threw him an angry glare, and he realized he had said something wrong.

  “Come on,” she said. “Bring your sisters. And the minute we’re all inside the house, slam the door tight!”