No such thing as a car. Or the smell and noise they made. No need for them.
Arlen said, “Forret knows we’re here; someone’ll be along shortly to show us to Chesba’s.”
“All these names,” Jaime said, cocking her head to eye an overly decorative placard with the coach schedule. “So Forret is the Sallatier wizard, just like you have Anfeald.”
For once, Jess knew this already. Knew Forret was the local wizard, that Chesba was a lander... knew that Forret was in over his head. She eyed the young boy, who seemed about to take off his tunic—at least, until his mother noticed and tugged it firmly back into place. Human foals...
“Just like that, on a smaller scale,” Arlen told Jaime, gathering up Jess’s attention while he was at it. “He greeted me with some relief. Although he’s on the Council, he’s certainly not up to dealing with changespell antics.”
A man breezed through the large swinging door, stopping just inside to let his gaze wander the room. When he saw the trio, he headed toward them with a bold stride—but stopped short when Arlen sent him a warning look.
Jess thought again that Jaime was not the only one with scars from the previous summer.
Then again, the man had been too brusque... too pushy. Not respectful of their space. Jess, too, had flattened phantom ears at him.
“I’m Crait,” the man said. Jess thought he would make a stout cob horse, if horses came in that peculiar bronze carrot-y color, with freckles amassed so closely upon one another. “I’m Forret’s logistical assistant.” He glanced at Jess. “I take it this is the mare?”
Jaime said, “I beg your pardon!” and Arlen said, “Mister Crait!” and only Jess spoke out, low and clear, and full of disdain for this mannerless human. “Jess,” she said. “I am Jess. And I am here because you need my help. It is my choice whether I give it.”
“Right, right.” He walked a circle around her as if to convince himself she was human on all sides—although he seemed to linger as he passed behind her. “Well, Chesba’s home is only a short distance from here, which is good, considering the heat this afternoon.”
“Excellent,” Arlen said, more brusquely than he might have. “Like Jess, I have other demands on my time. Now that you’re here, let’s not linger.”
Jess understood that, too—that Arlen had quietly reminded this man who he was. She followed him toward the swinging door.
The sharp pain came suddenly, like a bite on her haunch. Jess reacted instantly, not thinking, just moving—her leg flashed back and connected; she whirled to face the unexpected threat—
There was nothing. Just the freckle-spattered man on the polished wood floor, clutching his thigh and rocking back and forth as he moaned. Against the wall, the young boy’s mother watched with an expression of surprise that turned to an odd smile of satisfaction.
“Jess? What on earth—” Jaime frowned, just as baffled as Jess; Arlen held himself in unexpected reserve.
“I don’t know.” Jess rubbed her haunch. “Something bit me.” Mortification set in; she looked at Arlen’s tight anger and thought it must be at her. “I didn’t mean to—I thought... it felt like...” A bite. An unexpected bite from behind that any horse would have kicked at. What..?
“I thought—” the man said through clenched teeth, “this... woman was supposed to have come from well-trained courier stock.”
Jaime glanced at Jess’s hand—at her haunch. “Something bit you?” She gave the man a sudden hard look. “Jess, just where did this something bite you?”
“Right on the—” Jess was about to use Carey’s word for it, which wasn’t haunch at all—and then glanced at the young boy. She wasn’t used to the young humans, but knew enough not to say that word. Instead, she pointed at the offending spot, right on the curve of her muscled bottom.
She didn’t expect Arlen to cross his arms, set back on one leg, and abandon Crait to his fate as Jaime’s scowl fixed on the man. “Do you do that to all the beautiful young women who cross your path?”
Crait clutched his thigh, his pain shifting to dawning wariness. “No, I—”
Jess began to understand. There was no threat. There was just this freckled man.
“You did that?” she asked, incredulously. On the other side of the room, the boy’s mother nodded emphatically; she pulled the boy to herself with gentle hands on his shoulders and murmured something in his ear, pointing at Crait. Using him as a lesson that Jess still struggled to understand. “But why?”
The color was returning to Crait’s pale face; he opened his mouth to answer—and Jaime didn’t let him.
“Because,” she said, closing in to stand over him. “Because you’re lovely, and he felt he had the right to handle you.”
Crait’s pained outrage faded completely; he sent Arlen a beseeching glance.
Arlen only shrugged.
Jaime glowered so hard that Jess finally understood she had done no wrong—that this man had handled her without permission, and had broken both human and equine rules to do it. “Isn’t that it? You fondled her, right here in front of us all!”
“No, I—” he said, stopping as Jess moved in to stand on the other side of him from Jaime. “I—figured she’d be used to it! Any courier’s horse is used to being handled!”
Jess’s eyes narrowed. “If I was Lady, you would have no Words for me. I never listened to those I did not respect.”
“And she’s not a horse now,” Jaime said. “She’s a woman. Which is a damned shame, because if she had been Lady, she would have broken that leg for you instead of making you limp for a week. And she just might have aimed a little higher.” She glared a moment longer, muttered, “Oligophrenial oaf,” and turned her back to march right out the door.
Jess leaned over him; he shrunk away. “If you ever meet me while I am Lady,” she said, “do not try to touch me.” And the boy’s mother gave Jess a firm nod—more than just approval, but an unspoken connection of understanding. Human connection, between human women. Jess offered her a tentative little grin.
Arlen spoke in a deceptively conversational tone. “Better see if you can walk on that leg. I think we’ve wasted enough time here.”
And Jess smiled again, this time inside. Human connection.
But the smile didn’t last long. She knew she’d seen a side to humans that would crop up again as she encountered more of the world outside of Kymmet and Anfeald.
And she knew it was something that would affect every animal the powerful, unknown wizards changed.
~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Nine
Jaime’s temper had cooled by the time they reached Chesba’s sprawling town house—but she felt it lurking, ready to explode again on Jess’s behalf—or even on her own, in the wake of Willand’s escape.
Chesba met them beneath the generous overhang of his entry steps. He turned out to be an older man with long white hair tied at the base of his neck and defying the wide bald area on top of his head. Despite his age, he stood straight-shouldered and trim, and he carried himself with a precision reflected in his household’s austere but exacting appointments of polished wood and gleaming brass trim.
He introduced himself with crisp courtesy, and led them into a room where Forret waited. Crait trailed them, limping well behind Jess.
Jaime bit back a smile of satisfaction.
“We found her near the family land house and brought her here, hoping for answers,” Chesba said, leading them through narrow but well-lit halls. “It’s obviously been some time since she’s eaten.” He stopped by an open doorway and gestured them in, eyeing Jess as she passed. Unlike Crait, Chesba’s gaze was a sharp one—and thoughtful.
A man waited for them in the small room—younger than Arlen, if not by much, with cheeks scarred by old acne. Even to Jaime, it said much about his ability as a wizard. Arlen nodded at him. “Forret.”
“Nice to see you, Arlen,” Forret said. “Under the circumstances, I appreciate your visit even more.” He glanced at Crait’s l
imp and frowned. “Crait, what happened to you?”
“A moment of clumsiness in the coach station,” Arlen said, at which Crait looked much relieved—though Jaime wondered if it might not be a temporary reprieve.
They crowded the room, a small thing with one high window and a single chair, though one corner held a petite round table with a pitcher and fine glasses, stained in the multi-hued colors Jaime now recognized as magical in origin.
“This was once the sitting room of a nursery,” Chesba said. “Of course, even my grandchildren are beyond that stage now.” He nodded at the door in the corner of the room. “That was the nursery proper; she’s in there. We thought a smaller room would suit her after the trauma of transport here. I’m afraid we had to tie her.”
Arlen raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”
Chesba shook his head with regret. “My healer simply couldn’t risk a tranquilizer spell, and we’ve been able to do nothing with her since her arrival. As weak as she is, she’ll strike out if you get close. She hasn’t eaten, although we’ve offered a variety of food types, all raw. I’ll be surprised if she lives out the day.”
Jaime watched Jess, certain of the distress this would cause. But Jess merely listened, her dark eyes watching Chesba and sifting through the clues of human expression and behavior.
When that gaze flicked briefly to Jaime, she lifted her chin in the barest of nods. I believe him, she said in answer to that question.
“I’d tell you what I think about our find, but it’s probably best if you form your own conclusions.” Chesba reached for the door. “Don’t worry; she’s usually in the back corner. She won’t react unless you move in too close.”
“Ready?” Arlen asked Jess.
Her gaze rested briefly on Crait. “He stays out.”
“We all stay out,” Arlen reassured her. “Just you, Jess—I’ll watch from the doorway. Until you think you’ve got her figured out.”
“If,” Jess said, and left it at that.
“Just do your best,” Arlen agreed quietly.
Chesba gestured at the door. “It’s not locked.”
Jess put her hand on the knob and paused, just long enough to send Crait a hard look. Then she eased the door open. Jaime did her best to see without crowding Jess, and let Arlen fend for himself—he, after all, could see over her.
Jess hesitated at the odor that rolled out from the room—disinfectant mixed with body waste, and a distinct animal scent that Jaime couldn’t place. Some despairing soul had placed a neat spread of papers in the corner, trying to protect the floor from the woman’s chosen toilet spot.
The woman curled up on herself in the far corner of the room, dressed only in a tattered, stained tunic; the emaciated lines of her hips and bottom jutted through the material. She’d curled her arms up under her chest, and her head rested on the floor, facing them.
Both window and mage-light illuminated the room, making it easy to see her features—finely cast features, a little too small for the face that held them—especially the nose. Her eyes, though, were another story; though closed above her slightly twitching nose, they were large, and set off the delicacy of her features even further. Her hair was fine and silvery—variable in length, with an even mix of short, fine hair and longer hairs that reached to her shoulder.
“Not horse,” Jess said, ever so softly. She’d gone tense as soon as she’d entered the room, more than the trepidation Jaime had seen on her face earlier.
“No,” Jaime murmured in agreement. She was sure Jess wanted nothing more than to turn around and leave that room forever—but she couldn’t stop herself from inching closer. “Not horse.”
The woman lay curled, thin and pathetic, her breath coming in rapid, shallow little whispers. Food sat untouched near her head, but Jaime was inclined to agree with Chesba. The woman wouldn’t likely live long enough to accept it.
Jess made a noise in her throat, a low equine murmur of greeting. The woman’s eyes opened, and Jaime couldn’t stifle her swift intake of breath; they were luminous green, dark rimmed and almond shaped. The large pupils quickly shrank to pinpricks as the woman lifted her head from the floor—a movement which seemed to take some effort. She made a face—a strange grimace—and then returned Jess’s greeting with one of her own, one that despite her weakness managed to sound less than benign.
Jaime made no sense of it, but Jess immediately backed away, glancing over her shoulder with eyes that showed an unusual amount of white. Jaime wasted no time in making way, pushing Arlen back with her shoulder.
Within seconds they were all on the other side of the closed door again, where Jess looked at Arlen with eyes that were still too big and said, “She is one of those who prey.”
“Those who prey.” Chesba repeated the words without understanding, while Arlen regarded Jess with the small frown that meant he was thinking hard.
“Those who prey,” Jess said impatiently, and then made a visible effort breathe deeply, to calm. “Those who eat. Big cats.”
“Mountain lion?” Jaime guessed. “If you have them here, that is.”
“Not by that name,” Arlen said, his expression clearing. “But we do have a large creature which is very feline in nature—and they do occasionally attack outlying livestock.”
“The purzhan,” Chesba said. “Of course. We’ve never had one this far into Camolen, at least not in my lifetime. But they have a silvery fur... her hair...”
Jess addressed Crait directly for the first time since they’d left the coach station. “You better not handle her bottom.”
“What?” said Chesba, startled. Jaime could see he was about to put it together when Arlen spoke.
“Never mind,” he said firmly. “I don’t want to get distracted from the matter at hand. Yet,” he added, with a meaningful glance at Crait. “Chesba, I think you should inquire of Sherra; she has the best healers in this half of Camolen, and one in particular who has worked with Jess. Don’t mistake me—I don’t think there’s much chance of saving this woman, and right now there’s not much we can do for her if we do save her.”
“A shame,” Chesba muttered. “She is a thing of beauty. She hardly deserves to be caught up in such defiance of the Council.”
Forret looked grim. “There’s not much doubt about it. We’ve all heard about your mule... someone is experimenting with changespells, and they don’t care what happens to the results of those experiments.”
“That much is more than apparent,” Arlen agreed, his voice tight. “It’s unfortunate that the Council is so distracted by—” and then he glanced at Crait, and finished, “other things.”
“Let the Council do what it can,” Chesba said. “I’ll see about getting Sherra’s best healer here.”
Jess, almost as if she couldn’t stop herself, put her hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it until she could peek in—her own worst enemy, in a different form but still just as quintessentially purzhan as Jess was yet Lady.
But after a moment of watching, Jess turned away and pushed the door open. “Never mind,” she said, sorrow in her voice. “You cannot help her now.” She looked at Crait. “I think maybe it is better this way.”
~~~~~
“Dayna, are you in here?” Chiara’s call sounded startling against the quiet of Sherra’s library.
Dayna struggled to replace the heavy text on the bottom shelf in the back corner, scattering her notes on shielding. “Back here,” she answered, grunting with effort as the book finally shoved into place, and then scrabbling for her notes.
Chiara’s steps mapped her progress to Dayna’s corner. “Dayna, didn’t you get the summons?”
Dayna gave her a blank look as she stood and slapped the dust from her loose slacks. “Summons?”
Come to think of it, hadn’t she heard that tiny mental knock a while ago, when she was in deep concentration? “I was reading,” she said, apology in her voice. “I’m sorry. Did I miss anything important?”
“No,” Chiara said, exasperati
on tingeing her voice. “Not really. I’ll just have to explain it to you, too.”
“Who else was summoned?” Dayna asked.
“Just one of the entry level students—a young man named Rorke.” Chiara bent for the last errant note and handed it over in a crackle of thin paper. “He’ll be more of an intern than an active participant. But you, they want for what you’ve done. It’s quite an honor, actually.”
Dayna felt a prick of irritation as she stuffed her notes into a leather binder. “What are you talking about?”
Chiara said evenly, “If you’d paid attention to the summons, you’d already know.”
Dayna just crossed her arms and looked at the woman. Flatly, she said, “Fine. You’re right. I wasn’t paying enough attention.” It wasn’t like she’d been goofing off, even though shielding research wasn’t on her current assignment list. But if some wacko was out there misusing shielding, Dayna wanted to know all she could about the process.
Chiara sighed. “Just pay attention next time, all right?” She didn’t bother to wait for Dayna’s nod, perhaps having finally learned the depth of Dayna’s stubborn streak. “You’ve heard of the changed animals they found in Anfeald and Sallatier?”
Of course she had, and she’d learned all she could. Jess was her friend, after all—and this would matter to Jess more than to anyone.
Not that the information had been easy to come by. The Council was as tight-lipped about the changed animals as they were about the unknown signatures and the shielding spells.
“I know of two of them,” she told Chiara. “A mule and a purzhan, whatever that is.”
“A big predator,” Chiara said, clearly not truly caring about those details. “The Council isn’t so distracted by other things that they aren’t doing something about the illicit changespells. They’ve put together a team to come up with a broad checkspell—and you’re on it.”
“Me?” Dayna said, in true astonishment. She looked down at herself—a first year student, dressed in the simple, modest—dusty—outfit she’d earned by providing a Siccawei tailor with some easy spells to protect his cloth. She wasn’t even from Camolen, for pete’s sake—and despite her ability to manipulate raw magic, she was far from a solid grasp of layered, complicated spells using conventional means.
The Changespell Saga Page 39
