Peri grunted and shoved her scrub-bucket farther down the hall. The waves of suds she sent across the floor turned into tide and foam.
There was a sudden crash. The inn door, with someone clinging to it, had blown open under a vigorous puff of spring wind. Peri looked up to see a stranger lose his balance on her tide. He danced upright a moment. Then he tossed his arms, fell, and slid down the hall to kick over her bucket before he washed to a halt under her astonished nose.
They stared at each other, nose to nose. The stranger lay prone, panting slightly. Peri, wordless, sat back on her knees, her brush suspended, dripping on the stranger's hair.
He popped a soap bubble with one forefinger and said, "I heard a rumor that someone here needs a magician." He got slowly to his feet and ran a hand down his dripping clothes. The dripping stopped. The flagstones were suddenly dry. So was the puddle outside the door.
