The Changespell Saga

by Doranna Durgin

  But it was a very small part of her.

  There must be something wrong with the spellstone. She was still standing on her own two feet, and not sprawled in some undignified manner on the floor.

  She cracked her eyes open to the pleasant surprise of the stone spell booth walls around her.

  Arlen stuck his head in the door, looking about as mischievous as a forty-year-old wizard carrying the weight of a world’s cataclysmic spells could be. “Welcome back!”

  “Arlen!” she said. “What did you do?”

  He invited the rest of himself into the room. “Fixed the glitch,” he said. “Like it?”

  “Do I like not arriving flat on my ass?” Jaime said. “I guess you could say that.” She opened her arms wide and Arlen walked right into them. No hesitation there—after their time shared under Calandre’s cruel hand, they were irrevocably tied together, no matter the distance between them.

  Arlen kissed the top of her head and pulled back. “I’m sorry you’re here because of Willand,” he said, “but I’m glad to see you. And Jess is waiting upstairs.”

  “Jess is here?” Jaime said, pleasantly surprised. Kymmet kept Jess so busy there was often little time to visit. Even so, Jess was always eager for riding lessons—and for more training as Lady, for she sorely missed the close partnership of horse and rider she’d had with Carey.

  For Carey hadn’t ridden Lady since he’d come to accept and love her as Jess. Idiot.

  “Jess is here,” Arlen confirmed, blissfully unaware of her thoughts. “I... convinced Kymmet they could do without her for a while.” He tucked his arm around Jaime and picked up her small suitcase. “Her friend Ander came with her. He and Carey are eyeing each other like young stallions. You should have plenty of entertainment while you visit.”

  Jaime raised her eyebrows. “Jess has mentioned Ander, and I did wonder...”

  “Jess doesn’t see it yet,” Arlen said. “And she’s too distracted by the mule to see it now. No, never mind,” he said, cutting off her question and guiding her out of the spell booth. “There’ll be enough of that later. For now, come say hello to everyone—and I hope you have room for lunch.”

  “I’m ready for dinner, actually,” she said. “But I’ll take what I can get.”

  “It’s one of those things of your world—that peanut butter that Jess likes so much.” Arlen’s firmer touch corrected her when she started to turn left instead of right—she wasn’t sure she’d ever memorize the way from the secluded booth to Arlen’s private floor.

  The maze-like route was deliberate, of course, in case of unauthorized transport. And Jaime didn’t even want to know about the spells Arlen now had set up to catch the unwary in these hallways.

  But Arlen was still talking about lunch. “I’ve made sure there’s some real food tucked away for those of us who want it, though. Nice haircut, by the way.”

  Jaime’s hand crept to the nape of her neck of its own accord. She was long used to the thick, short fall of her braid—but the prospect of facing Willand had somehow called for change, and now her dark hair ran quite short up the back of her head, with a cap of soft bangs that had suddenly found a bit of curl.

  Arlen gave her a quizzical eye as they mounted the first set of stairs. “Lost in thought?”

  “There’s a lot of that happening lately,” Jaime admitted. “Arlen—”

  But her words were lost in Jess’s cry of greeting from two floors up, and her bounding descent to meet them. She came around the stairwell at some speed—and stopped short.

  Jaime bore her silent inspection without comment, knowing that the importance of immediately checking out New Things was one of the equine attributes Jess still carried.

  After a quick moment, Jess said “It’s good!” Then she nodded to herself, and added, “I like it. Welcome back!”

  “Thank you, on both counts,” Jaime said, grinning. “Have you been practicing?”

  Jess rolled her eyes. “Nothing but young horses all spring,” she said. “Maybe after the rush.” But then she admitted, “Koje’s hold in Kymmet is bigger, because Kymmet the City is bigger. And the stables are bigger. But they aren’t better.”

  “Well, maybe Carey has a horse or two we can use for lessons,” Jaime said, taking the hand Jess held out to her as Arlen let her slip out from beneath his arm.

  “That would be good,” Jess said. “As long as it’s not my brother. He’s so stubborn.” She gave Jaime a quick glance as they walked up to Arlen’s floor. “Don’t say it runs in the family.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it,” Jaime said hastily, not bothering to cover her smile.

  “How is Sabre?” Jess said, as they topped out the stairs. “And your new horse, the little black gelding?”

  This uppermost floor was all Arlen’s—it held his workshop off to the left, and several smaller work rooms off the other side. At least one of those looked to be in use. “He’s getting better,” she told Jess absently—absently, because she’d caught a glimpse into Arlen’s room and seen parts of Ander—a booted foot, a lower arm with dirt smeared from wrist to elbow—whom she’d long been curious about.

  Absently, because Carey was there as well, and the tension between them reached all the way out into the hallway and piqued Jaime’s interest.

  They’d both come to their feet by the time Jaime entered the room—and Jaime understood immediately why Carey was uptight.

  Where Carey was lean, a perfect rider’s build, Ander had an extra few inches on the breadth of his shoulders. Where Carey’s head barely topped Jess’s, Ander could look down on her. His blond hair was striking, his eyes were beguiling, and his mustache perfectly suited his features.

  Jess, Jaime noticed, was looking at Carey. She hoped Carey had noticed, as well.

  “You must be Jaime,” Ander said. “It’s nice to meet you after all this time.”

  “Likewise,” Jaime said, nodding politely. Carey, she gave her hands and a smile; he took them and held them a moment, ever aware of her restraint toward him.

  When she’d met him, he’d been a desperate man on an even more desperate quest—and he’d endangered her entire barn full of horses while he was at it. She’d never quite forgiven him for that, and she was sure he knew it. It showed in that faintly reserved and just as faintly abashed look in his eye, as he squeezed her hands and released them.

  “Nice hair,” he told her.

  “You’re looking pretty good yourself,” Jaime said, and it was true. He seemed less stiff than the last time she’d seen him, when she’d begun to wonder if he’d ever fully heal from the damage Calandre had done him. “How’s the leg?”

  He made a face and declined to answer.

  “Jaime,” Jess said, circling the room to scoop up Arlen’s cat, “did Arlen tell you about the mule?”

  “Arlen hasn’t had much time to tell her anything,” Arlen said, tucking the suitcase beside the door. “Aside from hello, and nice to see you—or did we even manage that much?” he asked her, raising an eyebrow.

  Jaime smiled. “We did, more or less,” she said. It was so easy to forget how much power Arlen could wield. “I was pretty busy being pleased I didn’t land on my butt.”

  “He fixed that?” Carey asked, surprised.

  “The mule,” Jess said, insistence creeping into her voice.

  Jaime surrendered. She flopped down on the short couch, never minding that it was still warm from somebody else’s bottom. “Tell me about the mule.”

  Jess came to the end of the couch and knelt, the cat still in her arms, purring madly and not minding that it had twisted itself nearly upside down. “Someone changed a mule into a man,” she said intently, her dark eyes holding the confidence that Jaime would understand the significance of the statement.

  Jaime did. The foot she’d been in the act of crossing over her knee hit the floor again instead. “You’re sure? Who?”

  “Yes, and we don’t know,” Arlen said, and the light tone was gone from his voice as well
. He sat in the chair by his needlework. “He escaped. Or they turned him loose.”

  “Considering how difficult he is, I wouldn’t be surprised if they turned him loose,” Carey said, shaking his head.

  “If we’d been paying attention, we might have felt the first change.” Arlen meant the Council, Jaime decided. “But we weren’t, and it takes a mighty powerful magic to get someone’s attention amidst all the other chatter that’s going on out there. If I didn’t have a low-level filter around this hold, I’d probably be insane by now.”

  “Some of us have our doubts, anyway,” Carey said, a twist at the corner of his mouth. “Considering the spells you insist on investigating.”

  Arlen’s reaction was mild. “Better for me to discover the dangerous things before someone else.” But Jaime saw a little wrinkle over his eyes, and knew something was going unsaid.

  Jess had come to attention, clearly struck by some thought; the cat leapt lightly from her arms and padded over to Arlen to ponder and then claim his lap.

  “The mule would be big magic,” Jess said. “And you already said no one you know would do it. But there was that other magic, the strange magic. Maybe they changed the mule.”

  Arlen’s eyebrows went from concern straight to astonishment. “How in the Ninth Level did you hear about that? That’s strictly Council—ohh, hold on. You make runs out Aashan’s way, don’t you?”

  Jess looked suddenly stricken. “I thought it would be all right to say it, because you’d already know.”

  Arlen shook his head. “Never mind, Jess. You’re right. I already knew.”

  “But my friend—”

  “It’s all right, Jess,” Arlen repeated firmly. “Your courier friend never took a Council Oath, and she can’t be held to someone else’s. Don’t worry about her.”

  Jess subsided, not looking entirely convinced.

  Carey scowled. “And what big magic is Jess not supposed to have heard about? You might as well tell us, now. Although,” he said, and glanced at Ander, “not all of us seem surprised to hear of it.”

  Ander contrived to look blank as Arlen gave a grumbling sigh, entwined his fingers together, and settled them above the cat. “The big magic,” he said, “is somewhat of a mystery to us all—although I think Jess is probably absolutely right. It’s connected to the appearance of the mule-now-man.”

  “What’s the problem?” Carey said. “If it was such a concern, didn’t you track it down?”

  “That’s the problem,” Arlen said. “And the reason we’re truly quite alarmed about it. We can’t track it down. Whoever generated the unfamiliar signature managed to shield themselves shortly afterward, and we haven’t heard a peep from them since.”

  Jaime looked at Carey’s somber expression and knew she wasn’t getting the full implication of the situation. “That’s bad, then,” she said, looking for confirmation.

  “That’s bad?” Carey repeated. “I’ll say. Any wizard who can shield from the Council is one hell of a powerful magic-user. We’re not talking about the sort of obvious physical shield that Calandre used when she occupied this hold. We’re talking about something...”

  “Much more subtle,” Arlen finished as Carey hesitated. “Much more difficult to create, much harder to keep control of—and it erased all signs of the magic. None of us have felt a trace of that unfamiliar signature since the first incident—but we certainly don’t believe that person has stopped using magic.”

  “How could anyone that powerful just pop up?” Jaime said doubtfully. “I mean, they had to learn somehow—and you’d have felt them, then.”

  “Exactly the point,” Arlen said, and leaned back in his chair, stroking the cat. “Exactly.”

  Ander frowned, and not without plenty of worry. “What’s the Council doing about it?”

  Arlen considered him long enough that Ander looked as though he wished he hadn’t asked—but in the end, he answered the question. “What we’re doing, on the whole, is waiting for additional information. Of course, I’m still looking for a way to change the mule back to his natural form—and the Council as a whole is on highest alert, searching for any sign of the strange signature. Other than that, there is little we can do.”

  “You mean,” Jaime said, realizing the extent of the situation for the first time, “that they could be doing anything, wherever they are, and you won’t know about it until it’s too late?”

  “Anything our checkspells won’t keep them from doing,” Arlen said, and nodded. “Yes.”

  And Jaime knew from first-hand experience how destructive a determined and powerful wizard could be, checkspells or no.

  ~~~~~

  Jess peeked around the half-closed door of Arlen’s main workroom, leaving Jaime to settle in and Carey and Ander to check over the broodmares.

  Arlen sat on a tall stool in front of a long worktable, his face to the wide window and his back to the rest of the room—an asymmetrical wonder of odd corners and crannies, five walls, an assortment of windows, and book-lined shelves. Fragrant herbs simmered in a pot next to him, just now starting to singe. Endless papers layered the work desk, a sprawl of ordered chaos. He made a notation as Jess waited, and spoke without looking back at her. “What can I do for you, Jess?”

  “Oh,” she said. “You have a spell or something?”

  “To figure out who’s lurking?” he said, and the warmth in his voice made Jess a little bolder. “Do you think I would sit with my back to the door if I didn’t?”

  After some thought, Jess decided not. “Did you, before last year?”

  He twisted on the stool to give her a thoughtful look. “I suppose I wasn’t quite as careful about that sort of thing. But it’s live and learn—or quit living.” He leaned on his elbows against the work table. “Now, what can I do for you?”

  Jess eased into room. “Your herbs are burning.”

  He gave the pot a look; the mageflame winked out. “Jess?”

  Jess leaned against the wall and gently bumped her bare heel against its stone. “I can ride for you, Arlen. Until I have to go back to Kymmet.”

  He gave her a look of genuine surprise. “You said that like you think I need someone. Do I?” He looked down at his hand, his fingers moving; Jess realized he was counting couriers on his fingers. He looked up at her. “And Carey’s almost up to speed.”

  “He is still stiff when he stands up, and when he first mounts a horse,” Jess corrected him. “And his gaits are off. Why can’t the healers get that leg right?”

  “I don’t know,” Arlen said, looking somewhat bemused at her immediate dissent.

  “Would you be using that courier who came to Kymmet if you didn’t need me?” Jess asked. “He spoke when he shouldn’t have. He was rude.”

  “Was he, now?” Arlen said, giving her an evaluating look.

  Jess moved uneasily. “Was it wrong to tell you?”

  He rubbed a finger down his nose, and offered her a little smile. “We-ell, some wizards might take offense at the suggestion that they don’t know how to run their own holds. But as it happens, you’re right—he’s an excellent rider, but he’s got what Jaime calls an attitude problem.”

  “Then let me ride. If Carey tries to take too many assignments just so that man won’t go on them, he’ll never get well.”

  Arlen looked away for a moment. Behind him, a warm breeze ruffled the scattered papers, bringing a touch of the scent of summer hay to the cool stone hold. “Jess,” he said slowly, “Carey is as healed. Riding the critical jobs keeps him strong, and he’s perfectly able to keep up with the breeding and training.”

  His words stunned her. “You mean...” she said in a small voice, “he’s always going to hurt?”

  Arlen nodded, but not without sympathy. “He’s grateful for what he’s got—and he’s accepted what he’ll never have again. It’s important that you think about this, Jess, before you say anything to him about it.”

  Jess just blinked a moment, taken aback. Carey wasn’t going to ge
t better. He was always going to hurt.

  And he knew it.

  She took a deep breath, struggling past it. “Well,” she said, “he doesn’t need that man here. Do you want me to ride instead?”

  She felt the affection in his short laugh. “We can pay you by the job, just as we do with him. I don’t doubt that Carey will clear the change.”

  “No,” she said, both startled and adamant. Being paid wasn’t why she’d offered. “Kymmet pays my salary. For Carey, for you, I ride for free.”

  He tapped his notes, eyeing her. “That’s possibly a little more generous than I should let you get away with.”

  “It’s for Carey,” Jess said, as if that should explain everything.

  “Yes,” Arlen said. “I know.”

  And then, when Jess still hesitated, biting her lip and looking out at Arlen through the long fall of her disarrayed bangs, he said gently, “How else can I help you?”

  “Jaime!” Jess blurted. “I mean—Willand.” She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and said, “Does she have to see Willand again? She already did that. Everyone knows what she has to say. It’s too hard for her!”

  “I’m a member of the Council, not its boss,” Arlen said, but if he meant the response to be reproving, it lacked force. He gave her a pensive look. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You can do it,” she said positively. “Especially for Jaime.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Especially for Jaime.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Chapter Seven

  Carey went down the hold stairs two at a time, like he used to. Feeling good today.

  Every morning he reported to Arlen—the state of the barn, the jobs for the day, any scuttlebutt he’d heard—and today, he’d received several pleasant surprises in return.