“There was,” Hanner said. “We don’t know whether it’s still there, and still working, or not.”
“Ah, and that’s what you want me to test?”
“Exactly.”
“And if it isn’t still there?”
Hanner and Nerra looked at one another.
“We hadn’t really thought that part through yet,” Hanner admitted.
“We would find a way to get you back out,” Nerra said.
“But it might take awhile,” Hanner said. “Possibly a year or more. Probably not that long, but it’s possible.” He hoped they would be able to find some other way to retrieve Rudhira if she became trapped in the tapestry’s world, perhaps by buying or borrowing an existing tapestry, but in the worst case, he would commission another new one.
Paying for it might be a challenge, though. He hadn’t discussed money with Nerra yet, and while he was sure his family wouldn’t let him starve, paying for a new tapestry was something else entirely.
Rudhira considered the blue sky, the golden sunlight, the green grass. Wherever that was, it certainly looked warmer than Ethshar was right now. “Tell me about the return magic,” she said.
Hanner let his breath out with a sigh of relief; he hadn’t realized he was holding it. “You see those houses there?” he said, pointing.
“They’re pretty,” Rudhira said.
“Yes, they are,” Hanner agreed. “Well, in that one, on the right, there’s another tapestry – or there was, anyway. Arvagan’s apprentice hung it there seventeen years ago, and it brought me back to Ethshar. If it’s still there, and it works, it will transport you to the attic, right above us.”
“Right here in this same house?”
Hanner nodded. “Yes,” he said.
“And if it doesn’t work?”
“If you aren’t back in an hour, I’ll go talk to a wizard about the best way to get you out,” Hanner said. “We’ll use the Spell of Invaded Dreams to let you know what I learn.”
“And if it does work?”
“Then you’ll be back safely.”
She looked at him with an unreadable expression. “I mean,” she said, “what are you going to do with this thing? Why is this so important?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hanner said, and barely prevented himself from adding, “I thought it was obvious.” He smiled. “This is somewhere all the Called warlocks can live. Those houses are empty – or they were seventeen years ago, anyway. It’s warm and sunny, there’s water from a lovely little stream just over the hill, the sea is over that way – it should be a fine place to live.”
“Live?” Rudhira studied the tapestry again, her expression rather different; where before she had appeared to be peering closely, taking in every detail, now she seemed to be leaning back, looking for a general impression.
“You’d be welcome to live there, if you want to,” Hanner said. “But please come back and let us know it’s possible, first.”
“If you don’t want to risk it, we can find someone else,” Nerra said.
“Oh, no, my lady,” Rudhira said. “I’ll try it. No need to risk anyone else.”
“That’s not what -” Hanner began, but before he could finish the sentence Rudhira had stepped forward, hand outstretched. He started forward instinctively, intending to stop her, even though this was exactly what he had wanted her to do.
But then her fingers touched the cloth and she was gone, leaving Hanner and Nerra alone in the unused bedroom.
For a moment, the two of them stared at the tapestry. Then Nerra said, “I like her. Shall we go upstairs and wait?”
Hanner nodded. He was unsure why he had reached out to stop her, and why he felt so uncomfortable that Rudhira had gone through the tapestry; wasn’t that what he had wanted? The sight of her disappearance had been almost painful, but he didn’t understand why. He tore his gaze away from the tapestry and followed his sister back to the attic stair.
“We need to be careful to stay out of the area that’s shown in the other tapestry,” Hanner said, as they climbed the steps. “If the reality doesn’t exactly match the image, the spell may not work.”
Nerra looked back over her shoulder. “Match how?”
“Well, if we were anywhere in the attic that’s visible in the image, that could block the magic, because we aren’t in the image.”
Nerra frowned. “You mean that if we stood in the middle of the floor, she’d be trapped in that other world?”
“Yes,” Hanner said. “Or she might be, anyway – there’s some variation from one tapestry to another. Quite a lot of variation, really. It’s one reason these tapestries aren’t more widely used – the wizards can’t tell in advance just how easily the spell will be to disrupt. They can be very delicate.”
“Are the stairs in the image?”
Hanner tried to remember; it had been a few days since his brief sojourn in his magical refuge. “No, I’m pretty sure they aren’t,” he said. “We designed it to have as few variables as we could, so the window isn’t visible, and I’m fairly certain the stairs aren’t, either.”
“We should stay back, though,” Nerra said, stopping a step below the attic floor.
Hanner stopped as well, a few steps lower, and backed down a step so as not to crowd his sister.
His foot hit something, and it was all he could do to keep from tumbling down the stairs when whatever he had stepped on let out a high-pitched squeal and slapped at his ankle.
“What in the World…?” He looked down to see a pointy-eared froglike green face glaring up at him angrily.
“Hanner? What’s going on?” Nerra turned.
“It’s one of those…those little green things,” Hanner said, pointing. He had forgotten what the creatures were called.
“What little green…oh, it’s a spriggan. What are you doing here?”
“Wanted to see magic!” it squeaked.
“Well, don’t get underfoot, or you’ll get stepped on,” Nerra told it. The spriggan started to reply, and to climb up the next step, but she cut it off. “And don’t go out there in the attic, or the magic won’t work.”
“Where spriggan go, then?” it protested.
Hanner stared at it, fascinated, as Nerra said, “I don’t care where you go, as long as you stay out of the way.”
“Here,” Hanner said. “Would you like to climb on my shoulder?”
“Oooh! Oooh!” the spriggan replied, jumping up and down. “Yes, yes, yes!”
Hanner held out a hand, intending to lift the little creature, but instead it jumped up, grabbed his wrist, pulled itself up onto his forearm, and scampered up to his shoulder. Then, using his ear as a ladder, it scrambled to the top of his head, where it clung to his hair, swaying unsteadily, its own head missing the rafters by no more than an inch or two.
“That’s not what I -” Hanner began.
“Wanna see magic!” it shrieked, drumming its heels on Hanner’s temples.
Nerra gave her brother a disgusted look. “Don’t encourage it,” she said.
“Why not?” Hanner said. “It seems friendly enough. Maybe these things could be useful. Maybe we could train them to run errands.”
“It’s been tried,” Nerra assured him. “Yes, they’re friendly enough, but they’re stupid. You can’t count on them to remember what they’re supposed to be doing. They get into everything, they break things and make messes. Even if you did train one to run your errands, it wouldn’t be worth the aggravation.”
“Is true,” the spriggan said, nodding sadly. “Spriggan very stupid. Make messes everywhere.”
Hanner had a suspicion that the spriggan might not be as stupid as it wanted everyone to think it was. Maybe it didn’t want to be trained to run errands. If that was the case he could hardly blame it; he had never liked running other people’s errands, either. “Well, don’t make a mess here,” he said. “We need this attic to stay exactly as it is, so the magic will work.”
“Spriggan try.” It started to nod again, but whacked its head on a rafter and stopped, looking up resentfully at the wooden beam it had hit.