“There’s no way you could have known it was significant,” he said. Ander gave him a surprised and grateful look.
Arlen held up his hand. “I appreciate that having Jess back with us is an emotional thing, and we all want to talk about it,” he said. “But I’d really like to hear what Jess can tell us, as best as she can translate the experience into human terms.” He cast a gentler eye upon Jess. “And then, dear, we’ll have the healer take a look at you.”
“No,” Jess said, surprising them all. She looked at Jaime a moment, as if hoping she might explain it to the others, and then simply said, “The bruises will be as spurs. I keep them, and they remind me to do my best to stop those people.”
“Whatever you’d like,” Arlen said, though Jaime winced to think of the scarring, especially on Jess’s face. Maybe they could talk about it again, before it was too late—
“We know where you were taken,” Arlen said, “and how. But we don’t know where you ended up—or with whom.”
“The bad changespell wizards,” Jess said grimly. “And...” she looked at Jaime, “Willand.”
Jaime nodded, just as grim. “She let us know she was involved in her own darling way.”
“Details, Jess,” Arlen urged her. “The best details you can give us.”
So Jess told them, and in the end Jaime found herself astonished at how much she could retain. She thought she saw surprise on Ander’s face, too—but mostly they were caught up in Jess’s narrative of the barn and the animals and the circumstances.
And then Jess got to part where she was simply trapped in the dirty stall, waiting, impatient and angry. There she stopped, sending Arlen a purely miserable look. “I couldn’t work the changespell stone,” she said. “If I had done that, I could have gotten away. I could have learned more about them, or... or freed the others. But I couldn’t do it. I was... I was helpless.”
Jaime felt a strong, resonating twinge of inner pain. Helpless. She’d been helpless, too, when Willand derived such satisfaction from tearing her apart from the inside out with a corrupted healing spell.
And now Jess had felt it, too. She stared at the floor, as though the helplessness had somehow been her fault, her light nut-brown skin flushed with emotion. This had been behind the heart-wrenching depth of Jess’s tears—the thing Jaime had sensed lurking, unsaid, between them.
“Jess,” Jaime started, but didn’t get the chance to finish. Jess raised her head and looked at Arlen.
“I need a changespell Lady can trigger, Arlen,” she said firmly. “I want no more of being chased by farmers, and no more waiting until someone finds Ander or Carey when I return from a run. The change must be my choice.”
“I agree with you completely, Jess,” Arlen said, but Jaime heard the caution in his voice. “I’m just not sure it can be done. I can try a cascade spell, but often those end up requiring more power, if less thought.”
“It has to be done,” Jess said, desperation edging her voice.
“We’ll work on it,” Arlen said. “I’ll mention it to the changespell team, as well. But I won’t make you false promises. It’s a complex spell, and highly individualized.”
But Jess seemed satisfied. “Truth,” she pronounced it, nodding to herself. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, and related what of the barn conversations she could.
It was harder to make clear sense of the results than of the physical descriptions Jess had given them. Frowning, Jaime finally had to close her eyes to divorce herself from Jess’s expressive face and the distraction it lent her words. When Jess finished, and waited in silence for their reaction, Jaime took a deep breath and opened her eyes, fastening her gaze on Arlen. She wasn’t the only one. Clearly, his was the next move.
He, too, took a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I still have no idea who these people are, aside from Willand, or what’s driving them.”
“Dane,” Jess said suddenly, and frowned. “No, that’s not right. It was a name like Dayna, but not.”
“Don’t try too hard, Jess,” Arlen said. “If it comes to you, it’ll be when you’re not thinking about it.”
But the frown remained in place, deepening the wrinkle between her dark brows. Then, abruptly, she shook her head. “I can’t. I must not have heard it right when they said it.”
“You can be that certain?” Ander said, his eyes widening a little. “You remember things that clearly, even after you change?”
Jess gave him a patient look, and a wry expression crossed Carey’s face. He murmured, “Never underestimate her, Ander.”
But Arlen’s thoughts had forged ahead. “Whoever these wizards are, the Council will certainly not tolerate their dabbling with the lives of others, be they animal or human. But that one man you mentioned, who stood apart... I wish I knew what he was up to.”
“Jenci,” Jess said. “I didn’t like him.” She considered a moment, and added, “I didn’t like any of them. But him, less.”
“Don’t forget Willand,” Carey said, voicing Jaime’s thoughts. “She’s already proven her mettle. These wizards must’ve broken her out of confinement, and they wouldn’t have done it if she wasn’t of use to them.”
Arlen shook his head. “Willand was allowed no visitors with magical skills above the level of your average citizen—say, what you and Jaime can do. And the signature was different from the early one we detected. That whole incident is still very much a mystery.”
“We’ve got to learn more about them.” Carey rubbed an absent hand along his upper thigh. Jess watched, quiet concern in her eyes—distracted, for the moment, from her own pain.
“True,” Arlen said. “I imagine they’re already packed and out of the site where they held Jess, but we definitely need to get a look at it.”
“That’s easy enough,” Jess said, looking away from Carey to meet Arlen’s eyes, and surprising them all. She offered them a small smile. “Did you think a horse who found her way home couldn’t find her way back out again?”
~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Fourteen
Dayna sighed, shifting in the saddle and thinking about how fast things could happen. Jess had been taken, Jess had been gone... Jess had come back. Then she’d taken Arlen to the farm where she’d been held—but the place was, not surprisingly, abandoned.
Not for long. Now a peacekeeper team escorted Dayna’s team to the farm, with Jess to show them the way and Carey to help them deal with the horses. She did wish Sherra’s guard Katrie was there—Dayna had come to trust her uncommon good sense.
After all, even if Arlen’s speculation that the rogue wizards weren’t as dangerous as they were deluded was true, they’d already proved themselves plenty capable. And what difference did it make when Willand was with them, anyway? The tag spell on those darts proved as much—never mind what had been done to Jess!
Dayna didn’t know the details of Jess’s captivity. She only knew she’d instantly divined a difference in her friend—a difference that went far beyond the appalling bruise on her face.
Even when Jess was newly human and lost on a strange world, she’d had an unshakeable inner confidence—something her new human friends had not been able to shake, despite their disbelief that Jess was not a horse. She had known certain things beyond all discussion—her Words, her Rules, and the behaviors that lay at the root of all horse/human interactions.
When Dayna looked at Jess’s face now, she saw the repercussions of shattered Rules. Her wariness, her defensiveness... her hurt. Even her friend Ander had earned a quick glare for coming up on her too fast.
Dayna didn’t want to be around when someone finally ignored those keep-your-distance signals once too often.
She stood briefly in the stirrups, tugging her twisted pant leg into submission.
“Not used to the riding, huh?” Carey asked, moving beside her on a smudgy brownish horse that reminded her of Lady. He sat in the saddle with ridiculous ease despite his permanently lingering injuries.
&nb
sp; She just scowled at him.
“I thought so.” He gave her a crooked grin. “Wizards never learn to ride properly.”
“As if there’s usually any need,” Dayna grumbled—though she, too, understood it was best not to reveal their activity with the magical signature of so many wizards in mage-travel.
Carey’s grin faded. “Do you really think you’ll learn anything at the farm?”
“Nothing obvious,” Dayna said. “But there’s no telling what might help. If we can figure out their goal or their refinement methods, we have a better chance of creating an effective changespell.” She blinked, and made a face. “I said that like I’d lived here all my life, didn’t I?”
“That you did,” Carey agreed. They rode in silence, while Dayna watched Carey watching Jess. She’d wondered why Carey had truly come along, given his staffing crunch—but the reason, of course, was obvious.
Jess.
He caught her eye. “I can’t let anything happen to her,” he said. “Not now. There’s too much... going on.”
“Jess wanted to take that run,” Dayna said, her voice taking on an edge of impatience. “She makes her own decisions, Carey. No need for you to beat yourself up over it.”
But his expression held misery. “I could have said something,” he said. “She might have decided differently. Or maybe not—but at least I wouldn’t be watching her now, wishing I’d tried.” He patted his horse’s shoulder, a gentle, wistful motion. “This is Jess’s brother, you know. Well, her half-brother. Last year, Calandre’s people nearly ruined him. Hard riding... worse treatment. It’s taken a long time to get his confidence up again.” He nodded at Jess. “She always had more grit than he did. She’s the kind of horse who’ll turn hard, and kick back.”
“She’s more than a horse, now,” Dayna reminded him. “She’ll get through this.”
His jaw set briefly. “She can be one of the strongest people I know. But at the same time...” he stopped for a long moment. Finally, he said, “I wanted her to learn she is strong. I thought it would be best if I let her make her own decisions. I think I stepped back too far.”
Dayna scowled at him. “Then maybe you should be your normal cuddly and lovable self, and quit trying to orchestrate her life.”
He gave her a surprised look. “Careful, Dayna. Someday, someone’s going to figure out that you really care.”
She didn’t manage to come up with a retort for that one before he nudged his horse into a trot, moving up beside Jess with an ease that renewed her scowl.
Bad enough he wasn’t getting saddle-sore. He had to get the last word, too?
~~~~~
The day after escorting the changespell team to the wizards’ farmhouse, Jess stood at the top of the familiar short-cut—well away from the steep bank Ander still struggled to climb, his inexperienced mount scrambling behind him at the end of the reins.
The day before on this road, they’d skipped the shortcut, sparing the changespell team wizards on their way to the farmhouse. This day, Jess again prepared to ride past the point of her capture—again on her way to the peacekeeper hold, where the courier packet still waited from before her capture: the compiled statistics of rising peacekeeper losses in Anfeald and the surrounding precincts.
No one had wanted her working courier runs. But Carey still needed the help—and Jess needed to work. She needed its distraction and she needed the reassurance of doing ordinary things in an ordinary way.
And she needed to ride this stretch of road again. To conquer it, as she had not truly done the day before.
Her gelding jigged beneath her, responding to her tension. She narrowed her focus, breathing deeply and slowly. Here was where she’d first seen the threat. Here was where she’d felt the sting of the first dart. Here.
And here was where she’d fallen.
Ander finally reached the top of the bank to flash her a grin, testing his girth before he mounted up. “Thought you’d be there and back again by now.”
She snorted and turned away, but it was with a small smile. Beneath her, the gelding snorted, too, mouthing the bit in the aftermath of their wait.
Movement flashed along the edge of the long, field-edged road. She stopped the gelding with a shift of her weight, tipping her head so the black brim of her baseball cap shaded her eyes.
“Other people use the road, too,” Ander reminded her, his voice low and calm. “The outlaw wizards aren’t hanging around here any longer, you know that.”
She did know that. And still.
She raised her head for better focus even though these human eyes didn’t need her to do so. Then she caught the red and white flash of color. Peacekeeper uniforms.
Ander must have seen them, too. “They’re just out on an exercise,” he told her. “With all this trouble, I’d sharpen up my skills, too.” He ran his hand along the strap of his quiver.
“Yes,” she agreed. She looked at Ander’s bow and wondered if he could grab it, nock, and aim before feathered little darts took them both down. Probably not.
She’d just have to keep her ears and eyes and phantom whiskers on alert at all times.
They rode single-file past men and women marching quick-time, exchanging greetings all the way down the line. And then, despite the heat of the late morning, Jess moved out in front of Ander at a canter, more than ready to be at their destination.
Their greeting at the peacekeeper gate came with a pleased and anxious enthusiasm. “Glad you’re here, glad you’re here,” said the middle-aged guard. “After what happened to that one courier, well...” he trailed off and shook his head, obviously unaware that the one courier stood right there in front of him. He tapped a small black square painted on the doorframe of his small shelter, and spoke into it. “Arlen’s people are here.”
Jess started when the doorframe spoke back to him. “Should be two, man and woman. She’s supposed to show you a baseball cap.” The voice added less brusquely, “Don’t ask me what that’s supposed to be.”
Jess pointed to her cap. “This.”
“Confirmed,” said the man into his black square, then looked up at Ander and Jess with an apology riding his shrug. “We’re pretty careful these days.”
“Yes,” Jess agreed, glancing at Ander. “So are we.”
The man waved them in, and they trotted into a dusty expanse of a yard with shriveled plantings lining the huge stone main house. Jess aimed her horse at the shaded hitching rail.
A chocolate-skinned young woman in black trousers and a white armband over her belted red tunic met them at the door of the main house. Ander leaned in close to Jess’s ear. “Youth Corps. They really are hurting.”
The young woman said, “This way, please,” and led them down a long hallway. Jess had made this run before, but never had it involved such solemn ritual. Their guide deposited them at the open door of a large office, within which a woman and two men conversed.
Jess settled her saddlebags on her shoulder and stepped into the office. There she saw the painted black square on the largest of two desks, and pointed at her hat again. “Baseball cap.”
The man sitting behind the desk just grinned. “Now we know.”
At his casual response, Jess relaxed. “I thought we did something wrong.”
He made a sour face, which was an interesting sight when combined with his oversized nose and narrow eyes. “Things have changed. Formality encourages alertness among the newer recruits. Didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Does that mean we have a chance of getting lunch around here?” Ander asked.
“Indeed!” the woman said. She must have been about Jaime’s age, her eyes full of worry and fatigue. “In fact, I think we owe your companion two lunches, unless I’m wrong about her identity.”
“Jess,” said Jess, without hesitation. The woman nodded, and Jess saw the little glimmer that meant the woman knew she meant Dun Lady’s Jess. That glimmer meant curiosity—and this time, Jess found she did not welcome it.
“We appreciate your willingness to make the ride again,” the second man said. He was a big man, with the pale lines of a summer-shaved beard. “I know the holds are strapped for couriers, with the current unpleasantness.”
The woman caught Jess’s gaze, looking at the difference there just a moment too long. “Obviously, someone is intent on causing trouble. We’re just grateful they haven’t moved on to the general population.”
“No,” said Jess. “Just you. And us.” She knew from Ander’s surprised glance that her slightly prickly reaction wouldn’t be understood.
But she didn’t like it when people tried to make conversation, just so they could talk to her, and she didn’t like it when they tried to pretend they weren’t curious so they could later find ways to ask questions they also pretended weren’t nosy. Better to be honest and ask.
“Now, then,” said the man behind the desk, breaking through the undercurrents as he reached into a drawer and dropped a thick, wrapped stack of paper before them, tucking them into a leather folder. “Here’s the dispatch—nothing so secret as all that, but best if the general population doesn’t know, and if your Arlen can lend any insight, we’d be grateful.” He held out the folder. “Now, let’s head off to that lunch.”
Ander’s stomach growled right on cue, but Jess suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore. She didn’t want to eat with this woman; she didn’t want to talk about her private things and she didn’t want to deal with finding a polite human way to not talk about them.
Still, she accepted the folder and slid it into her saddlebags, listening to introductions—First Level Commander Jep, and the woman, Friedan, and the large Karle, both second level commanders.
Friedan kept the conversation going as Jep led them to their meal, inquiring after Jess’s time in Kymmet while Jess pretended not to hear. The dining building sat just off the side of the main house, and it held too many empty tables for a meal time. The peacekeepers on the road, Jess reminded herself. The remaining diners conversed in quiet tones of palpable tension, the occasional exclamation striking through; they sent sideways glances at Jess and Ander, and at their commanding officers as well. A little resentment, a little underlying rebellion... a lot of worry.
The Changespell Saga Page 44
