Ithanalin's Restoration

"I'm sorry, Master," she said. "I didn't mean to be disrespectful."

"Sorry?" Ithanalin chuckled. "Oh, don't be foolish. I remember you doing what had to be done to collect a bunch of idiot fragments; any disrespect involved was entirely justified. I remember some rudeness, yes, but I remember persistence and ingenuity, as well. Most particularly, I remember the very fine performance you gave when I dove off the Fortress with the overlord-it was a remarkable display of courage and foresight. You must have put a great deal of thought and effort into preparing those potions! That was excellent work, worthy of a master wizard, let alone a journeyman. You're clearly ready for more than just the Spell of the Obedient Object."

"Thank you, Master," Kilisha said, somewhat overwhelmed by this praise. Then a thought struck her. "You remember every-thing?"

"Yes, I think so. Why?"

"Could you tell me, then, how the couch got into the Fortress, and why?"

"Ah!" Ithanalin smiled and reached for his chair. "Well, I'm sure you know how sometimes when you're working on a long spell odd, irrelevant thoughts will wander through your mind. That was happening as I stirred the mixture, and I was remembering an incident several years back when I spoke with someone who had once been a rat, who had told me about rinding the legendary escape tu

"Escape tu

"Yes," Ithanalin said, sitting down again. "When the Fortress was built, during the Great War, the possibility of a long siege by Northern forces was considered, and a secret tu

"Kelder, you mean," Kilisha said, as she took her own scat at the table. It was hard for her to think of him as just a tax collector again, but of course that was all he was to Ithanalin.

Kilisha knew that Kelder was at least a friend to her now, and well on the way to becoming something more. She felt pleased and warm at the thought, but brushed it aside to listen to her master's explanation.

"Yes, I suppose so," Ithanalin said. "At any rate, when I realized it was a tax collector interrupting my work I was somewhat a

That all made a remarkable amount of sense to Kilisha, but it also left several new questions-where was the secret tu

But there were always new questions, and there was no hurry about answering them all.

One more did come immediately to mind, though. She glanced at the workshop door and asked, "What was in that brass bowl?"

Ithanalin flushed, and cast an unhappy look at Yara before saying, "Soup. Spiced beef soup. That was to have been my lunch when I completed the spell."

Kilisha had begun to suspect as much when it had done nothing after days of neglect, but it was still a relief to have the mystery explained.

"The only magic on it was the Spell of the Obedient Object, to make it chime when it was ready to eat," Ithanalin said hastily, looking at his wife again. "And I wasn't going to let anyone else eat any of it, so I didn't think it violated my promise-"

"It doesn't matter now," Yara said, waving a hand in dismissal. "We're all safe and sound."

Ithanalin relaxed at that, and turned back to Kilisha. "I think there can be no question that you are ready to complete your apprenticeship," he said. "I will be happy to teach you whatever spells I can between now and your eighteenth birthday, but whenever you feel you're ready after that, I will certify you to the Guild and you will be free to go."

"Ah…" Kilisha began, startled. "But there arc still so many spells…"

"You're welcome to stay and learn them as a journeyman, if you choose."

"Thank you, Master."

"Thank you, Apprentice. You saved my life."

"And the overlord," Telleth said happily.

"Is Kilisha going to go away?" Pirra asked, suddenly woebegone.

"Not for months," Yara said. "And not if she doesn't want to."

"I'll have to go eventually," Kilisha said. "To make way for another apprentice, if nothing else."

"Well, there's no hurry about that," Ithanalin said. "It's almost two years yet before Telleth's twelfth birthday, and he needn't start until he's almost thirteen." He gazed proudly at his son.

"Uh…" Telleth's smile vanished; he suddenly slumped in his seat and looked helplessly at his mother.

Ithanalin looked at the boy, then at Yara, then back at Telleth. "What is it?" he asked.

"Well, Dad," Telleth said hesitantly. "I… uh…" He looked at Yara again, then pleadingly at Kilisha.

Kilisha had no idea what Telleth wanted of her, and turned up an empty palm.

"Come on, lad, what is it?" Ithanalin demanded.

Telleth swallowed, then said, "Well, Dad, the truth is that you… well, when I was five you turned me into a squid, and a sixnight ago you trapped yourself in a bunch of runaway furniture, and yesterday you almost got the overlord himself killed. Wizardry is dangerous." He looked down at his plate and poked at his food. "I was thinking I might try another line of work…"

His voice trailed off.

Ithanalin stared at him for a moment, then said, "Well, it's your choice, of course. And it is dangerous."

Kilisha remembered plunging from the Fortress parapet with nothing but a tiny vial of Tracel's Adaptable Potion to keep her from a gruesome death on the rocks below. She remembered the feel of Javan's Restorative coming apart around her when the sprig-gan interrupted her. She remembered the coatrack threatening her with an uncurled hook, the bench careening along Fortress Street, the couch galloping wildly through the Fortress, and a dozen other bizarre scenes she had recently survived. Dangerous? Undoubtedly. She smiled.

"Of course it's dangerous," she said. "That's what makes it fun!"