Of Parties and Potions

Of Parties and Potions - Part 3

Blythe's ears itched. Her legs itched. Her back itched. It felt like she had walked through a patch of nettles. No... it was more like the time the cat had slept on her clean laundry and shed fur everywhere. When she brought her foot up to scratch at her ear, the embarrassment won out over the incessant prickling. What was she doing?

She climbed to her feet to make sure no one saw this. Luck was on her side- no one had, if just for the reason that no one else was in the room. She peered under a nearby table to check that no one was playing a trick on her and found it empty of all but a lizard.

As this skittered away, Blythe rubbed at her head. She still felt fogged from the drink Adair gave her, whatever it was. Her eyes widened and she dropped her hand. Maybe that was what happened. Maybe everyone else got sick from this, too, and left to go home.

That couldn't be right. As a healer she recovered faster, so there was no reason she would have been struck down immediately and then affected longer. For another thing, Etri and Adair would never leave her here.

Blythe headed towards the door and tripped over a row of potted plants that she didn't recall having been there earlier this evening. Why were there so many trees? These people really went all out on decorations. If only she could find the people. Her pair would be preferable, but anyone would do. Creators, her skin itched! Her costume wasn't made of wool, was it?

She pushed the door to the hallway open, expecting to find everyone waiting outside to yell "surprise!" The hall was as vacant as the lounge. She poked her head into each of the rooms on this floor to find them all empty. Where the hell was everyone? If this was a joke, she didn't find it very funny.

She was halfway across the dance floor with the goal of the side door in mind when she heard a familiar clattering sound behind her. At least someone was still here! "Sol! Do you know where Addy and Etch are? Or any-"

She spun around to find no sign of Sol, either. She had been so sure. When two parrots whizzed past her head, she had to duck to avoid being brained. This was so stupid. Who let all these animals in here, anyway? It would be just her luck if Etri escaped out a window instead of a door and left it open. She always got stuck cleaning up after his and Adair's mistakes.

Grumbling about her grievances as a sentinel, she spun around and rammed her knee against the side of a table. She looked down. No, not a table. A stove. In the middle of the dance floor.

Okay, things were beyond weird. This had to be a dream.

"I'd like to wake up now," she muttered in the hope this would jolt her sleeping self into consciousness.

"Oh! Are you sleepwalking! You looked awake! If you want me to go so you can sleep, I'll go."

She stared at it. It couldn't possibly be speaking, yet with each word the flap on the stovepipe lifted up and down. When the stove began to prance away on its stubby legs, she called out, "Hey, wait!"

It stopped and turned around. She got the impression it was grinning at her, but a stove couldn't emote. Or talk. Or walk. "So you are awake! I was hoping you'd talk to me! No one else wants to."

She knew that over excited voice, even if it was a little more echoing than usual. "Sol?"

"Yeah! Hey, look what I can do!" The door swung open on its hinges and ... well, burped was the only way Blythe could describe the outflow of heat and flame. That was Sol, all right.

Blythe dropped to her knees so she could be eye level with Sol's knobs. She hoped those were his eyes and not something else. "Yes, that's great. What do you mean no one wants to talk to you? No one else is here! And-- I'll probably regret asking this-- why are you a stove?"

"It's great, isn't it! I can blow out fire and make things warm and no one yells at me for it!"

"Sol, there's no one else here to yell at you even if they wanted to. Just me. Where is everyone?" If Sol had shoulders she would have shaken him by them. As it was, she had to settle for glaring at the flapping stove pipe.

"They're right here. I'd point, but I don't have a hand. It's the only thing bad about this, I guess. Hey, want to see what else I can do?"

Blythe scooted back on her heels in case Sol decided to belch again. "No no, that's fine. What do you mean 'here'?"

"All around you, silly!"

Blythe glanced quickly around the room, then rolled her eyes. "Sol, I already looked. No one is here. And you didn't answer how in Petra's name you ended up a stove. Did Addy set you up for this? Did he use his weaving on you?"

That had to be it. Adair had recently learned how to make illusions. Sol-as-stove was a trick.

"Nope! Not Addy, but you're close. Pretend I'm waving my arm around again, okay? Okay, so all this is weaving."

Blythe looked around again and finally noticed how many new things were in the room than there were before. If Sol wasn't a figment of her imagination and wasn't under an illusion, that meant...

It was weaving. Potent weaving. Blythe snatched a candelabra off a nearby table and stared at it. "Right. So then this is actually a person?"

Sol let out an echoing chortle. "No, silly! That's just a lamp! I'll give you a hint: what was everyone wearing before?"

What did their clothes have to do with price of apples in Agren? Then it hit her. That was why Sol turned into a stove. If his costume had been better, he might have actually turned into a knight. No wonder she had tripped over a row of potted plants. Those were probably fine; they weren't going anywhere and not much could hurt a small tree. The animals, however, were going to be a problem. She needed to get them separated before... her eyes slid to the left where a lobster had cornered a lizard, possibly the same one from earlier. Oh no.

"Sol, stay here! I'll be right back!"