Ithanalin's Restoration

The spoon didn't look particularly violent just now, though; it had twisted around so that its bowl was turned toward her, leaning forward as if listening to her. She took it, holding it just below the bowl.

The instant the man released it, it wrapped its handle around her wrist, bent its bowl down, and began rubbing against her wrist, like a cat asking to be petted.

"You see?" she said, struggling to hide her astonishment. "It knows me!"

"Oh," the man said, staring.

"Now, the bowl?"

Sheepishly, he took the bowl from under his arm and handed it over.

"Thank you," Kilisha said, accepting it. Seeing no harm in being conciliatory, she added, "I'm sorry about your tunic. If you ever need a little advice, or a spell at a small discount, come to Ithanalin's shop on Wizard Street."

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

The spoon was still stroking her wrist in a thoroughly disconcerting ma

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 coatrack standing there, in the middle of the narrow little street, with no one near it.

It was an ordinary coatrack 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 coatrack 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 coatrack, 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 in to 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 coatrack. 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 coatrack.

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 coatrack 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 coatrack, 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 coatrack plainly had other ideas.

Maybe, she thought, it had forgotten Ithanalin's prior existence so completely that it thought it was just a coatrack.

"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 coatrack 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 coatrack 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 coatrack 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 coatrack 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 coatrack 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.