“So I have heard,” Frike said. “But who could conjure the master away like that?”
“There are many possibilities,” Ylith said. “But given the sequence of events, it is most likely that it was some mortal- a witch perhaps-or an alchemist, or some other demon-who had a hold of some sort over Azzie, and thus was able to call him away without his consent.”
“But when will we see him again?” Frike asked.
“I have no idea,” Ylith said. “It depends on who did the conjuration, the spell used, and the nature of the obligation that Azzie had incurred.”
“But will he be back soon?”
Ylith shrugged. “He could be back in an instant. Or he could be gone for days, months, years, even forever. It is difficult to unravel the truth of these matters a posteriori.”
“I’d be glad to sacrifice my posterior if it would bring him back!” cried Frike. He wrung his hands in grief and uncertainty, and then a thought crossed the shadowy places of his mind and he called out afresh, “Oh, no!”
“What is it?” Ylith asked.
“The bodies!”
“What about them?”
“They run peril of decaying, lady! For only this morning we used up our last bit of ice, and we’re very low on ichor. I reminded the master of this as soon as he arose, and he said, ‘Never fear, Frike, I’ll call Supply and get some more as soon as I’ve had my nap.’ ”
“Nap? But you said he had just arisen.”
“He liked a nap soon upon awakening, mistress.”
“Now that you mention it, I remember it well,” Ylith said.
She went to the part of the laboratory where the bodies slept in their coffin-shaped open boxes, side by side, awaiting resuscitation. The ice of the high Alps was gone. In the bottom of each box was no more than a little pool of ichor.
“Your master has been very slack,” Ylith said.
“He had not expected to be conjured, mistress,” Frike said.
“I suppose not. Well, first things first. We must refrigerate these bodies, Frike.”
“Beg pardon, mistress?”
“We must find a means of lowering their temperature.”
“Can you call up glacial ice, mistress?”
“Not I,” said Ylith. “Witches’ conjurations do not lean to that sort of thing. Fetching things is demons’ work. But our demon has been taken from us. This is a tricky situation.” She crossed to the couch and sat down. “Stop whimpering, Frike, and let me think.”
She returned to the boxes, bent over, and touched the bodies. They were still perceptibly cold, but Ylith could tell that they were warmer than they ought to be. Another hour or two and Azzie’s prize specimens would be rotten meat, probably filled with blowflies. And then it wouldn’t matter if he came back or not. The contest would be over.
“I’m going to do something about those bodies, Frike,” she said. “I’m going to talk to some people. You had better not watch me depart. This is women’s magic, not for men’s eyes.”
“I’ll be in the den when you need me,” Frike said, slinking away. Ylith turned to her work.