Kilisha turned to him angrily. "They can sense magic," she retorted.
"Can they? Well, why don't we ask that one, then? Maybe it's got a more sensitive nose." He pointed up Steep Street.
Kilisha turned, and saw that indeed another spriggan was descending Steep Street, apparently headed directly for the enchanted chair.
"Where'd you come from?" Kilisha said. Then a thought struck her. "Maybe it's one of the ones that was on the bench!"
"There were spriggans on the bench?" Kelder asked.
Kilisha had been about to run up the steps toward the spriggan, but then she thought better of it; that might scare the newcomer away. Instead she gave the rope a gentle tug.
The chair clambered down a step so that two legs rested on Old Seagate Street and two on the bottom step of Steep Street.
The spriggan came bounding down the steps happily, ignoring the two humans who were maneuvering into position on either side of the chair. It jumped from the steps onto the chair seat- and Kilisha jerked the rope, tipping the chair up so that it wobbled wildly on one leg.
The spriggan slid from the polished wood and landed facedown on the hard-packed dirt. Kelder dove for it, and managed to grab one splayed foot before it could scramble away.
The guardsman sat up on the street, the front of his tunic smeared with dirt, his tax collector's pouch twisted around to his left hip, and the spriggan dangling from his hand, squirming wildly.
Kilisha hurried over and demanded, "Were you riding our bench?"
"Let go let go let go let go!" the spriggan yelped, still struggling, "Answer the lady's question!" Kelder rumbled.
The spriggan stopped wriggling and turned to look at him, then decided to cooperate. "Rode bench, yes!" it said. "Fun ride. Bouncy, fast, bouncy, and fast, then got bounced off."
"Where'd the bench go?" Kilisha asked.
The spriggan twisted its head to stare solemnly at her. "Don't know names," it said.
"Point."
The spriggan hung down from Kelder's hand and slowly turned its head back and forth, taking in the scenery.
"World upside-down," it said. "Makes head hurt, thinking directions this way up."
Kelder grabbed the creature around the chest with his other hand and turned it over, releasing his hold on its foot.
"Better!" the spriggan squeaked, as it looked around again. "Came that way!" It pointed back up Steep Street. "Around corner."
"You mean the bench was on Straight Street?"
"Street was straight," the spriggan said uncertainly.
"Did it go up the street, or down?" Kilisha asked. Kelder tightened his grip warningly.
"Up!" It was plainly relieved to be able to answer this one.
"Good," Kelder said. He lowered his hand.
"Don't let it-" Kilisha began, but it was too late; Kelder had released the spriggan, and it had promptly dashed away, down and across Old Seagate Street, toward the rocky shoreline.
"-go," she finished. She sighed, then beckoned to Kelder. "Come on."
Kelder got to his feet and looked around for the spriggan, but it had vanished from sight. He brushed off his tunic, straightened his belt, and followed Kilisha as she climbed back up Steep Street, tugging the chair behind her.
Ten minutes later they had crossed Fortress Street and the dry moat and neared the top of Straight Street; the huge red doors of the Fortress loomed before them, tightly shut, a spear-wielding guardsman to either side. The chair seemed reluctant to go anywhere near these two men, and hung back at the end of its rope.
There was no bench in sight.
The soldiers were looking at them with interest; Kilisha supposed they were wondering what a tax collector and fellow guardsman was doing here, and how he had managed to get his clothes so dirty.
And, she supposed, they could sec the chair. People out walking a chair on a leash were not a common sight in Ethshar of the Rocks.
"Hai!" she called. "Have you seen an animated bench running loose? Seats two, with a humped back?"
"That way," the right-hand guard replied, pointing north with his spear. "We wouldn't let it too close to the door here-you understand, in case it had some sort of dangerous spell on it, an explosive rune or something. We had to chase it away three or four times before it gave up."
"Did it have any spriggans on it?" Kilisha asked. If it had still had one or more to dislodge that might help locate it.
The guards exchanged glances. "I didn't see any," the left-hand guard replied.
"Excuse me for asking," the right-hand guard said, "but what's going on? I expect our captain will want a proper report, what with all this fuss about the usurper in Ethshar of the Sands. Did she send this bench?"
"No," Kilisha said. "Nobody sent it. An animation spell went wrong, and it ran away from home. It's harmless, so far as we know."
"It seemed to want to get into the Fortress."
Kilisha turned up an empty palm. "I don't know why," she said. "It can't talk, so we don't know much about its thinking. We don't know why it ran away in the first place, let alone why it came here."
"Fun!" the spriggan on her shoulder suddenly piped. Kilisha resisted the temptation to punch it.
"Well, it did seem to want to get in, so maybe it went to try the other door," the left-hand guard suggested.
"Thank you," Kilisha said with a curtsy. "We'll try there."
"Is that chair… I mean… " The left-hand guard pointed down the street, along the rope.
"That's from the same ruined spell," Kilisha said.
"Should we know who you are?" the right-hand guard asked, looking at Kelder.
"Kelder Goran's son of Sixth Company, on tax duty," Kelder replied. "I was the one who interrupted the animation spell, and I can't collect the wizard's taxes until it's fixed."
Kilisha doubted this was true-Yara could probably pay the taxes-but didn't say anything to contradict it.
"Which wizard?" the guard asked.
"Ithanalin the Wise," Kilisha said. "I'm his apprentice."
"Ah." The soldier straightened up, raising his spear into position. "Well, good luck, then."
A sudden thought struck Kilisha. "If the bench did get inside- well, maybe we should look in the Fortress."
"It didn't get inside," the guard said. "Nobody gets inside today without special permission, because of the usurper."
"Oh," Kilisha said. "Then we'll check at the other door. Thank you!" She curtsied again, then turned away.
They made their way back out across the bridge over the moat and turned left onto Fortress Street, toward the north door.
As they walked Kilisha looked first to the left, where massive jagged revetments rose up from the moat guarding the Fortress grounds, then to the right, where the mansions of the older noble families stood. The contrast was not as striking as one might have expected; these old homes were themselves forbidding structures of blackened stone, nothing like the glittering palaces the wealthy merchants and newcomers to the overlord's court had built themselves over in Highside.
She could see no openings in the mansion facades, no alleyways where the bench might have concealed itself-but on the other side, might it have fallen down into the moat? If it had been turned away at the north door and had still wanted to get into the Fortress, crossing the moat and finding an opening was the only other possible route. She crossed to the left side, paying out more line so that the chair could continue down the center of the street; when she reached the curb she paused to lean over the iron railing and peer down into the ditch.