Taking Flight

“Perina the Wise,” one guard said. “She’s still here. There are also two witches and a sorcerer.”

“I’m only looking for wizards, thanks,” Irith said. “May we go in?”

“We?”

“He’s with me,” Irith said, taking Kelder’s hand.

The guards exchanged glances again, and then one of them shrugged.

“What the hell,” he said, “let them in.”

“I think we better send an escort,” the other replied.

The first considered, and agreed.

“Wait here,” he said. Then he turned and hurried inside.

While they were waiting, Kelder remarked, “There’s a wizard a few blocks over that way by the name of Senesson of Yolder-do you think he might have a counterspell?”

“Who knows?” Irith said. “I know who you mean; he’s a nasty old man, but we can ask him when we’re done here.”

Kelder nodded. He was about to say something about meeting Azraya there when the soldier returned, accompanied by yet another soldier. “I’ll escort you to the wizard’s workshop,” the new arrival said, without preamble.

“Thank you,” Kelder said. “Lead on.”

The wizard’s workshop proved to be at the top of a distressingly long staircase; as they finally neared the top, Kelder panting and Irith making a great effort not to, the Flyer turned to her companion and muttered, “You can do what you like, Kelder, but I’m flying down.” She touched the bloodstone at her throat and then stood up straight, her fatigue seemingly vanished, as she took the last few steps.

“I don’t blame you,” he wheezed back. “I would, too, if I could.”

The guardsman seemed untroubled by the climb. He paused for a few seconds at the top of the stair to allow them to catch their breath-not enough seconds, in Kelder’s opinion, but a few-and then rapped on the blackened wood door.

A complex and unfamiliar rune glowed white against the black, and a hollow voice asked, “Who goes there?” It spoke in Trader’s Tongue, Kelder noticed.

“Two visitors to see Perina the Wise,” the soldier said in what Kelder took at first for awkward Ethsharitic, then recognized as Krithimionese. “I know one to be Irith the Flyer; the other I do not recognize.”

“Kelder of Shulara,” Kelder volunteered, wondering why the man was answering one language with another.

For a moment, nothing happened; then the door swung open and a woman’s voice called out, in the Krithimionese dialect, “Come in, Irith, and bring your friend! Thank you, Kelder, you may go.”

As Kelder hesitated, the soldier bowed quickly, turned, and headed back down the staircase.

“Wait,” Kelder called after him, “she said Kelder…”

“That’s me,” the soldier called back. “Kelder the Tall. No jokes, please.” Then he was gone, around a bend in the stair.

Kelder muttered, “I’d hardly be the one to joke about the name, would I?” Then he followed Irith through the door.

The workshop was a large room, with windows on three sides, tables and bookcases here and there, fur rugs on the floor, and a spiral stair in the center. Standing on the stair was a handsome middle-aged woman, a streak of white in her black hair.

“Irith,” she said, descending to the floor, “how good to see you!” She spoke Krithimionese, but Kelder could follow it well enough.

“Hello, Perina,” Irith said in the same tongue as she stepped into the room far enough to close the door. “This is Kelder of Shulara; he’s been very helpful lately.”

That was not exactly Kelder’s idea of a great introduction, but he smiled and said, “Hello.”

“I haven’t seen you for more than a year,” Perina said to Irith, ignoring Kelder as she crossed the room. “What brings you here now?”

“Well, I need a spell,” Irith said. “Or a counterspell, really.”

Perina came and took the girl by the hand. “Come and sit down and tell me all about it,” she said, as she led the way to a small settee, upholstered in gold-embroidered burgundy velvet.

Kelder, feeling out of place, followed.

“Well, it seems I enchanted someone,” Irith said, as she sank onto the cushions. “I didn’t really mean to, exactly.”

Perina nodded encouragingly and sat down as well; Kelder, seeing no space remaining, stayed standing, and began to wander toward a nearby shelf as if that was what he had intended all along.

“I put this spell on him, and I sort of thought it would wear off, but it didn’t, and now he’s an old man and he still has this spell on him, and it’s pretty awful, so I’d really like to know how to break it,” Irith said. Kelder looked over the tidy row of skulls atop the bookcase, trying to identify them all; the human was easy, of course, and he was pretty sure of the cat and the horse, but some of the others puzzled him.

“It sounds terrible,” Perina said, patting Irith on the knee. “Which spell was it, my dear?”

“Fendel’s Infatuous Love Spell,” Irith said. Then she added, “I think.”

Kelder glanced at her, forgetting about the odd skull with the horns. This was the first time he had heard her say that she wasn’t entirely certain about which spell it was.

“Oh, that’s a bad one,” Perina said, clicking her tongue in rebuke. “It’s tricky, you know; it can go wrong in ever so many ways.”