Arlen didn’t look the least bit concerned. “I don’t think so. Not until I get a flavor of what you’ve brought us—and how truthful you’re going to be.”
Renia hesitated, but everyone in the room knew she had no choice at this point. She knew it, too. “All right,” she said again, sounding weary. “Let’s talk.”
“The sheep,” Jess said suddenly, startling them all and drawing Arlen’s sudden frown. “Tell him about the sheep first.”
Renia’s eyes widened. “Jenci did it?” she said, sounding aghast.
Jess nodded at Arlen. “Tell him.”
“Yes,” Arlen said, pouring himself some more tea, though his gaze never left Renia. His voice was uncompromising, as if this wasn’t the first time he’d heard about the peacekeeper tragedy. “Tell me about the sheep.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Seventeen
Jaime struggled to contain her ongoing resentment against Renia—a woman who somehow felt unjustly persecuted when others objected to the consequences of her behavior. While Jaime just wanted to—
Yes. To hit her.
Jess, at least, had gotten on with her life. She and Ander had left for Kymmet, her face and neck still marked by ugly, fading bruises and her expression wavering between uncertainy and determination.
But Renia still found it hard to believe her group had been considered outlaw from the start. Even the day before, when her friends had torn apart a swath of Anfeald without second thought.
“Plenty of wizards go into seclusion when they’re working on a new spell,” she’d said in the conference room, after she’d finally begun to talk. “So what if a group of us got together and did the same? We weren’t working on anything forbidden.”
“How do you know?” Arlen asked her, much more equitably than Jaime would have been able. “There’s a procedure for developing major new spells, and it involves running a prospectus through the Council. In fact, the Council hasn’t—or hadn’t yet made up its collective mind regarding work on generalized changespells. As you can imagine, they feel strongly about it at this point. You and yours may take credit for that.”
Renia’s pallid face flushed deeply. “We’re a bunch of low level wizards, and the Council always made sure we knew it. A formal application would have been dismissed on those grounds, and you know it. We never would have had a chance to do it your way.”
“You might have tried,” Arlen said mildly—but his voice hardened, then. “You might have gotten some helpful guidance on what is and what is not considered humane treatment of experimental spell subjects.”
“What, after they turned us down?” Renia said. “I don’t think so. Look, all we wanted to do was spell an effective change in certain animals—the ones that would be especially suited for some of the occupations humans are doing now. Once trained, they’d be twice as good at it. And they wouldn’t require the same sort of compensation.”
Jaime’s temper, already at its edge, flared high—but when she turned it on Renia, she found her voice already buried in similar reaction from Carey and Ander.
At once, they all realized that Jess, the voice that should have been the loudest, remained silent.
But the look in her dark eyes was cold enough to give Jaime a chill.
Deliberately, she rose to her feet, every movement full of the lithe athleticism that proclaimed her other. The black stripe that was mane and forelock in Lady’s form spread out over the sandy buckskin of the rest of her hair, and her nostrils flared slightly in loud equine statement.
She was, Jaime thought, as much horse as anyone in human form could get. She flaunted it before Renia, and stamped it with her pride.
And then she turned to Arlen and said evenly, “I saved her life because I was human enough to do it. I came here to find out if she was human enough to have deserved it, and now I know. I would like to leave.”
Good for you, Jess, Jaime thought. You can show her what it means to be human better than we can ever tell her.
“Of course, Jess,” Arlen murmured, gesturing quietly at the door. It not only unsealed for her, it also opened. And after Jess had taken leave, it closed and sealed again. “Renia, it would be best to keep in mind that I have sworn to protect you from without this hold—but not from within.”
Renia clearly didn’t quite get it. She glanced uncertainly around the table, finding nothing but hostility. Jaime gave her a cold, mirthless little smile.
“Let’s forego discussion about your group’s intent,” Arlen said. “I’d like to know about your process. For a group of lower-level wizards who were so certain the Council would ignore you, you seem to have done quite nicely.”
He did not, Jaime noticed, acknowledge that he’d seen Renia accomplish that which would have tasked him. He was playing a brilliant hand of poker with this powerful woman—and so far, he was winning.
“We found a way to combine our abilities,” Renia said vaguely, and then immediately changed the subject. “But none of this is relevant to why I’m here, and that’s the only thing I’m going to tell you before I get that oath.” She waited for Arlen’s nod, and even then seemed to hesitate. “About those sheep...” she started, and stopped.
Arlen looked at Ander, who readily filled the gap. “While we were picking up the peacekeeper dispatch, an entire company returned to the hold... as sheep.”
Arlen choked in astonishment. “Sheep?”
Renia smirked. “You didn’t know as much as you thought you did.”
At the collective expression of anger that turned upon her, she cleared her throat and started again, her tone more humble. “Jenci was probably behind the sheep. Once Willand arrived, he seemed like a different person. He said our goals weren’t impressive enough, and that we need something to protect us from Council envy. He went to work on a reverse changespell.”
And then she clamped her mouth shut, her lips thin and determined, and wouldn’t say another thing without the oath. She’d gotten it... but now she waited in a safe room while Arlen met with the Council, and Jess was on her way home, and Carey had gone on his morning run still wearing the same expression as when he’d watched Jess and Ander riding away together.
Jaime had her own disgruntled expression, and she knew it.
She didn’t care how Willand had gotten involved with Renia’s group, or who had managed to free her from confinement. She wanted only to know that Willand had been caught, and that Jess was safe from her and from the changespell wizards.
And then she wanted to go home.
~~~~~
Lady cropped angrily at Kymmet’s freshly irrigated grass, the only green pastures for miles around. Spellstones clinked pleasantly by her ear—but they only underscored that she was, in fact, still Lady.
“Jess, you’ve been in there for five days now.” Ander leaned over the fence of the small, isolated paddock. “Let me change you back.”
Lady turned her back on him, placing the spellstones well out of his reach. She tore the grass in vicious little snatches, not paying half enough attention to what was going into her mouth. The sour taste of little yellow hops clover struck hard, fouling her mouth. She spit it out and headed to the small water trough.
“Jess, enough is enough,” Ander said, trying the Stern Voice. It wouldn’t do him any good; Lady had a sterner voice in her head.
Jess had made a decision—to change to Lady and to stay that way until Lady changed herself back. Yes, it had been five days. And yes, she wanted to be Jess again, to take up the responsibility of her job.
But more than that, she wanted control—over her life, and her form.
Jess had been thinking very hard about that very thing as she changed to Lady—and Lady was nothing if not persistent, especially not with Carey’s you’re no quitter echoing in her memory.
Ander sighed, loudly. He pinged a small pebble off Lady’s side. She laid her ears back and returned to the grass, water dripping from her muzzle.
“All right, look,” he said. �
�I didn’t want to do this, but you’re not making it easy. Aashan’s been complaining to Koje—Mia’s having some trouble with the gelding you delivered a while back. I’ve held Koje off for two days now, but I can’t do it any longer.”
Lady raised her head and looked at him, pulling out word meanings but relying more on the new note in his voice. No cajoling, no urging, no give up, Jess. This was Ander needing her—needing Jess. And Koje’s name, she knew well enough. She left the grass to meet Ander at the paddock gate.
He said, “It’s about time.”
Carey wouldn’t have spoken to her that way. Carey would have known better.
And Carey would have recognized the look on her face before she greeted him with a head-rub, sliming him from shoulder to elbow with watery green spit.
~~~~~
Jess had been unmoved by Anders’ aggrieved expression when she emerged from her stall, newly dressed; she found herself unrepentant now, on the way back from Aashan’s hold with Bay.
She didn’t think he would speak to Lady that way again—impatient, just a little condescending...
Rude.
And her concern over Mia’s compatibility had been well-founded, although she’d known enough not to say so. Bay’s natural power meant he thrived on Mia’s short runs—but it also meant he needed his rider to handle his big gaits. Mia had tried to smooth her rides, but not by encouraging him to move in a more balanced frame. Instead she had choked him back until the unhappy gelding took to head-slinging and occasional fits of crow-hopping.
Jess made Kymmet’s standard offer—she would take the gelding back, minus a fee for the retraining he’d need, or Mia was welcome to come to Kymmet for several weeks of personal clinic.
Mia had been so pleased at that prospect that she let slip the latest news from the Lorakans, even as she admitted that Aashan had been spoken to about keeping Council business to herself. After all, Mia said, Aashan wasn’t getting her news from Council sources, so how could it be strictly Council business?
Jess didn’t bother to untangle that bit of human rationalization. What interested her was the news itself. Mage lure.
Mage lure, coming through the Lorakans.
For the strange old border spell had finally been identified as a detection spell for that insidious drug—an alarm set generations earlier for a threat so thoroughly eradicated that those who’d known and feared it were all gone.
Mia had laughed. She was sure that if such a thing as an enhancement drug for wizards still existed, everyone would know about it by now.
But Mia hadn’t been captured by a group of shielded outlaw wizards. And Mia hadn’t outrun a windstorm even Arlen couldn’t tame.
Dark clouds dogged Jess’s path, threatening rain but offering only humidity. She and Bay arrived in Kymmet sweaty and tired; she sponged him down before turning him out to pasture—and then wiped down her arms, bending over to flip her hair out of the way and squeeze the sponge over the back of her neck.
That’s when Ander showed up, of course; he stood there, waiting, when she straightened. Little rivers of water ran down her back and plastered her tunic to her skin.
Ander looked away. “You made good time, considering the heat. The gelding all right?”
“Bay,” Jess said, using Mia’s name for the horse. “She needs a personal clinic. I knew he was not right for her. I should have said no.”
Ander shrugged. “Aashan liked the horse, too. And the Kymmet Landers liked the price she offered for him.”
“Still,” Jess said, and that was all. She dropped the sponge back and hoisted the bucket, heading for the barn.
“What’s got you all fired up?” Ander said, following her. “It’s hot. It’s almost dinner time. Slow down or you’ll melt before you get it. Or,” he added suddenly, as if in sudden inspiration, “are you still upset about that changespell thing?”
Jess didn’t slow, but did throw a frowning glance at him. That changespell thing. “I have not given up.”
He caught up with her, mostly because she’d stopped to tip the remains of the bucket back into the spelled water cleanser—this season, no one simply threw out water.
“I don’t like to see you so fixated on it,” he said. “I can’t believe you stayed a horse that long—what’s so bad about having Koje or me change you back?”
Jess left the bucket inside her tack stall and slammed the door bolt home. “You aren’t always there,” she said simply. “I don’t like to depend.”
Ander frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with depending on people. We all do, for one thing or another. To tell the truth, it’s kind of nice to know you depend on me for something.”
She did stop, that time, right in the middle of the door that to the courier quarters. “I depend on you for friendship,” she said. “I don’t understand—” but she cut herself short.
She didn’t understand why Ander wanted her to depend on him so much, but she suddenly realized that he did.
It was why he made decisions for her—and why he was always there to help when he thought she needed it, whether or not she really did. Because he liked it that way.
She shook her head, disregarding the puzzled look on his face. She had no time for this. “I have to go to Kymmet-the-city now.”
“Why?” Ander said, alert.
She said simply, “Come and find out.”
Kymmet City had a spell booth reserved for the public city receiver, and Jess signed off for its use—and then signed off again for Ander, who was more likely to be short on transfer stipends.
Kymmet was full of people doing important things and thinking important things and trying to make themselves look even more important than they’d been the day before. At least, that was what Carey had said when she’d wondered why they all spent so much time in such an unnatural place.
Jess herself came only for the library, and came out of the city receiving booth center already stretching her legs for it, ignoring the stream of people around her and the occasional look she drew—even after she realized she’d forgotten to change her damp tunic.
The city was neat enough—at least, this section of it. Tiny islands of greenery surrounded the buildings, boasted the occasional fountain; tidy brick buildings with contrasting stone edges and rows of charming little shops surrounded the library.
But Jess wasn’t fooled—this was a place of brick and stone, not a living place like Arlen’s hold.
She stopped before the library—right where she always stopped, never failing to think about the Ohio library to which Eric had taken her, and how he’d taught her to read. It always meant a moment of sadness for Eric, but they were moments she’d learned to treasure—it was when she felt closest to him, as if he hadn’t died at all.
Ander misinterpreted her hesitation. “They’re still open,” he said, pushing through the token gate and into the lush gardens. Alongside the brick paths, dense, short vines covered the ground, impossibly tangled and endlessly flowering. They set the stage for the islands of flowers, shrubs and small trees—all of which housed a noisy diversity of birds.
Normally, Jess took her time here, watching the birds and admiring the new flowers—those were all Eric things to do, too. Today, she gently set her Eric-thoughts aside, and followed Ander to the library itself.
The library building itself was a quiet, surprisingly small stone structure at the other side of the gardens. Jess took Ander to the massive circular desk in the middle of the structure’s single room, and told the stacks priest what she was looking for.
He returned her a skeptical expression, but consulted his logs, writing out the location of several books for her. “Not many people even know about mage lure,” he told her. “Come back if you need more material.” She thanked him, leading Ander away.
“I’ll never understand why you come here as often as you do,” Ander said, his voice hushed as she took him down the stairway to the first sub-level—for the library’s shelving was underground, the books spelled
against damage and time. “It always gives me the urge to shout.”
“Shout what?” Jess asked, consulting her list and deciding to go all the way downstairs and work her way up.
“Just shout,” Ander said. “All this... quiet.”
“I like the quiet. And I like the books.” She led him through the maze of shelves, unerring. “They’re different from the books Eric gave me... but when I read them, they answer questions for me.”
She glanced at him, and saw he didn’t truly understand. “I have a lot of questions.”
He stifled a laugh, quiet after all. “That much, I know,” he said, and accepted the book she handed him.
Eventually, they settled in the study of the sub-four level, books spread out before them—flipping through pages, searching for references to mage lure. And when they pushed the last thick, stiff-paged book aside, Ander looked at Jess’s notes and made a face. “There’s not much anyone seems to know about this stuff.”
Jess picked the page up and ran her fingers across it, enjoying the smooth feel of the paper and the texture her slow, careful printing gave it. “No,” she agreed. “I think they all wanted it forgotten.”
Ander shook his head. “That’s no way to keep it from becoming a problem again,” he said. “And I can sure see why they’d—wizards—consider this a problem.”
Jess looked at the notes and nodded. Mage lure. Almost instantly addictive, often fatal over the long run, always fatal if discontinued without treatment...
And it boosted a wizard’s ability to channel magic many times over.
All their information came from books so old a library-priest had to unlock the binding spells before they could be open—books that chronicled the discovery of the substance, the battle against it, the destruction of the neutral territory once called barrenlands... the apparent victory in the fight to eradicate mage lure altogether.
The substance had been made in the southwest territory of Camolen, in Therand—when it was still a separate country instead of a distant and stubbornly independent precinct. It was derived from a native plant, which none of the books would name, and had been considered obliterated several hundred years earlier—the underground distribution destroyed, the production sites razed, the recipe wiped from the minds of all who’d been involved.
The Changespell Saga Page 47
