The Changespell Saga

by Doranna Durgin

  And that was it.

  “Jess?” Ander said, and his voice had a strong edge to it. Jess realized she’d been staring at the notes for some moments, and set the page down.

  “Do you think the old border spell was right?” she asked. “About the mage lure?”

  “After all this time?” Ander shrugged. “Old spells decay and lose their precision. The thing could have been triggering at headache powder for all we know. I’m sure they’ve done their best to confirm. I’m not sure Aashan had all the facts—or if she did, that Mia remembered them all.”

  “Mia usually gets it right,” Jess said. “It’s part of her job to remember details about her runs.”

  Ander snorted. “Aashan probably just wants to know exactly how her messages are received.” He shook his head. “I dunno, Jess. This stuff sounds pretty powerful, and hardly worth the price it exacts. The science of wizardry has come a long way since mage lure was last used—who knows if it would even work with today’s methods. But...”

  “Those outlaw wizards can do things they shouldn’t,” Jess finished. “And Renia is very strong. Too strong. I saw it in Arlen’s eyes.”

  “It’s a pretty powerful argument,” Ander agreed. “What do you want to do about it?”

  Jess blinked. She hadn’t thought about that. Slowly, she said, “Arlen needs to know about the mage lure. But that won’t be good for Mia.”

  “Arlen already knows,” Ander scoffed. “You don’t think Aashan could really scare up gossip this important all by herself, do you? She’s just the only one who stoops to passing it on.”

  Of course Arlen already knew. Jess felt the chagrin of that, but only for a moment.

  Because now they knew, too—and understood what they were up against.

  If Willand truly had access to mage lure, Jess wasn’t sure anyone could stop her from doing whatever she wanted.

  What do you want to do about it? Ander had asked. Jess sat up straight, looked him in the eye. “Lady has to be able to trigger my changespell.”

  Ander groaned—but it wasn’t as heartfelt as it might have been.

  And this time, Jess thought, there was a glimmer of understanding—and fear—in his eyes.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Drugs?”

  Jaime sat heavily on the couch in Arlen’s private suite and looked from Natt to Kesna to Arlen as stunned as they were bemused. “This is about drugs?”

  “I don’t know that I’d put it that way,” Arlen said. “Most certainly mage lure is involved. But this is about power and greed.”

  “No, it’s not,” Jaime said, closing her eyes and very deliberately clenching her jaw in lieu of, say, screaming. Drugs.

  She knew about drugs. She knew about the price they exacted, even from those who didn’t use them.

  Like Eric.

  She thought of the day she’d first arrived here in Camolen—of Jess, in equine form again after months learning to be human. Of Carey, numbed at finding Jess a horse when he’d only just realized how much he loved her as human. Of how Jaime and her brother Mark had turned to one another, only just beginning to comprehend the enormity of their situation.

  And of Dayna, crying out her anguish over Eric’s still-warm body—lashing out at the man who had killed him.

  Ernie. Drugs, kidnapping, killer-for-hire. Ernie. The man who had killed Eric, disappearing into the nearby woods.

  After that, in their struggle to survive, none of them had given him much thought.

  That, Jaime suddenly knew, had been a mistake.

  Drugs, kidnapping, killer-for-hire.

  She opened her eyes to find all three wizards staring at her, and stroked the little cat in her lap. “It’s about drugs, Arlen. Deep in the heart of it, it’s about drugs.”

  He regarded her with dawning comprehension. “You know something we don’t.”

  “Ernie,” Jaime said, and then turned impatient when he only looked at her. “Remember the hearings? When Carey triggered the world travel spell that first brought us here, there was a man with us—the man who killed Eric. He ran off—” ran away from Dayna and her raw magic— “and we never even knew if he survived the transition. We should have realized he’d find a familiar layer of societal slime and thrive.”

  Arlen frowned, thinking it through a moment before he shook his head. “Forgive me, but I don’t understand why you’re so sure this man is involved.”

  Jaime took a deep breath. “You’ve visited my world—surely you’ve heard references to our illegal drug problem.” She glanced at Kesna and Natt. “Mind-altering substances—usually addictive and usually dangerous. Even if Ernie wasn’t actively dealing, he knew the drill.”

  “You think Ernie got his hands on mage lure and became involved with Renia’s group,” Arlen said, trying it out for size.

  “For all I know, Ernie went looking for any hint of something to exploit and spent the last year finding someone who could re-create mage lure for him,” Jaime said bitterly. The cat, disturbed by her anger, jumped to the floor. “And once he had it, he also had the means to strike back at us for bringing him here. Do you suppose it’s coincidence that the outlaws are working on the changespell? And that Willand, the woman who sweetly declared revenge on us all, is the one who was freed from prison?”

  Arlen looked at her for a long moment. “When you put it that way, I don’t think it was coincidence at all. But I know how we can find out.”

  “Assuming Renia feels like talking today,” Natt said, frustration evident. “I can’t help but wonder if she’s really been sick since she got here—or if she’s still trying to protect her friends.”

  “She didn’t look very well to me,” Kesna said. “Not that she’s exactly amiable, but considering the protection the Council offered... why wouldn’t she talk?”

  “Arlen,” Jaime said, struck by alarm. “She’s powerful. So powerful. I saw it take you by surprise. What if she—?”

  Arlen straightened in alarm. “Then she’s in withdrawal.”

  “You said that was fatal,” Kesna said, drawing back in horror.

  “Oh, Burning Ninth,” Natt groaned. “But you’d have thought she’d have protected herself somehow—”

  “What if she doesn’t know?” Jaime said. “You can bet Ernie wouldn’t tell her. And Willand—?”

  “Even I had to look up the details of the mage lure effect,” Arlen said. “There’s no reason to think Renia knows anything Ernie didn’t want her to know.”

  Jaime stood up. “When was the last time anyone actually spoke to her?”

  “Yesterday evening,” Kesna said, looking off in thought. She nodded, growing surer. “I checked to see if she wanted to eat with us. This morning, she arranged to have breakfast in her room.”

  “And now it’s just past lunch,” Arlen said flatly. “I think it’s time to check on her.”

  Jaime didn’t bother to ask if she was invited; she invited herself. She followed the wizards down a back stairway she hadn’t even known about; no one said anything as they poured out into a corner of the third floor, so recently occupied by Dayna’s changespell team and now mostly vacant—except for the one room they converged upon.

  Arlen knocked brusquely at the door. “Renia? We need to talk!”

  The answer was slow in coming, and barely audible. “Go. Away.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Arlen said, not hiding his urgency. “Renia, I know you’re sick—and I know why. If you don’t open the door, I’m going to do it for you.”

  “Try.” As weak as it was, there was challenge in her voice.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Arlen said; his patience looked practiced. “You don’t think I’d give you a room where I didn’t have a built-in door override, do you?”

  Behind him, Kesna and Natt exchanged a glance that made Jaime think Arlen had done just that. Arlen, you sly thing. Bluffing her out again.

  “Wait!” Renia said, and her voice held more life. “I n
eed to... I’m not presentable.”

  “I’ll give you a minute,” Arlen said. “Or, if you prefer, you can just open the door when you’re ready.”

  “Just wait,” Renia repeated, bumping around within the room. The faint sound of running water filtered through to them, and then the door made an augmented click of released locks, both magical and physical. Renia cracked the door; she leaned against the doorframe and she looked... Jaime glanced away.

  She looked like she was already dead, and just didn’t know it yet.

  Renia glanced past Arlen with pointed surprise. “You didn’t mention you’d brought a party.”

  “No, I didn’t.” Arlen pushed the door open and walked past her. “Sit. We have to talk, and I don’t want you falling down while we’re doing it. That stimulant spell you just used might wear off before you expect it.”

  “Thanks for your concern,” Renia said, and sat on the small bed on the side of the room, where rumpled covers proclaimed her recent occupancy. The modest room held only a small dressing table and one padded chair, as well as the sink and a tiny cubby for a toilet. Bereft of her own belongings, Renia had nonetheless managed to give the room a used look—as well as the slightly sour odor of someone who’s been in bed and in the same clothes for days, although an open closet showed that Arlen had offered her alternatives along with the room.

  No one made a move to sit in the single chair. Arlen said, “We are concerned, Renia, and we have good reason to be. What can you tell me about mage lure?”

  Renia flinched. After a moment of hesitation, she put on a weakly arrogant expression. “What do you want to know?”

  “Exactly what I asked you. What do you know?”

  She frowned. “It’s a drug. It enhances a wizard’s ability to channel magic. And,” she added, making a wry face, “it’s very expensive.”

  “More expensive than you know,” Arlen said quietly.

  Jaime couldn’t hold her question any longer. “Ernie gave it to you, didn’t he?”

  Renia shook her head—and then glanced quickly at Arlen, as if wondering if she’d given herself away by failing to hotly deny the whole idea. Then she seemed to give up; she shrugged. “No. It was Dayton. And believe me, I paid for it.”

  Dayton. Jaime looked at Arlen in triumph, only to find his frown. “Dayton, Arlen,” she said. “Dayton, Ohio. He played around with his name, is all.”

  Understanding crossed Arlen’s face, lighting his brown eyes. “Was it was Dayton who arranged for Willand’s escape?”

  Renia made a face, which hardly improved the expression she’d already been wearing. “Yes, though it would have been better for all of us if he hadn’t. But it was so easy... all he had to do was visit and slip her a little mage lure. A couple of doses and she walked right over the containment spells.” She propped herself back on her arms. If anything, her bloodless face paled even further, and Jaime wondered if she was going to pass out.

  “I told you that stimulant spell would wear off sooner than you expected,” Arlen said. “You probably don’t have much of the drug left in your system.”

  “You think you know a lot about it,” Renia said, failing to hide an edge of desperation.

  Arlen said, “I know enough.”

  Kesna asked, “Do you have any more of it, Renia? The mage lure? Can you get it?”

  “No, and no,” Renia said bitterly. “It doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t give any to you, anyway, and I expected to lose my power when I left the group. I just couldn’t be part of what Jenci was doing. We weren’t supposed to be turning people to animals.”

  “It does matter,” Arlen said.

  His compassion drew her gaze—and her wary suspicion. “Why?”

  “Can’t you feel what’s happening?” Arlen asked. “I can—and I only wish I’d known about the drug sooner. We’ll call for Sherra, but I think we’ve missed our chance to ease the damage.”

  “What?” Renia said, irritated. “What are you talking about? What damage? Get to the point, would you?”

  “I doubt Ernie mentioned it,” Jaime said, though she, like Arlen, couldn’t quite bring herself to tell the woman she was going to die. “Or Dayton, or whatever you want to call him. It might have kept you from joining his little group in the first place.”

  As if in reply, Renia bent double in a sudden fit of coughing; Jaime winced at the deep, rattling sound of it. When Renia straightened, she looked at the bright red flecks of blood on her hand, eyes wide. “What the Hells is going on?” But it came out in a whisper, with none of her arrogance.

  “Mage lure,” Arlen said, hesitating a moment, “is a dangerous drug. Not everyone can take it; it has side effects and some of them kill. But its most insidious aspect is that you can’t simply stop taking it. Renia, you’re not sick. You’re dying because you quit taking mage lure.”

  “I’m what?” she said, and it came out in a gasp of disbelieving laughter. “You must be kidding. Dayton would have—” but she stopped short, suddenly realizing that no, Dayton wouldn’t.

  “I’ve only read vague references to the withdrawal effects,” Arlen said. “But watching you over last few moments tells me exactly what’s happening. There’s magic trickling through your body, Renia—uncontrolled magic. Magic you can’t control anymore, but had already gathered to you with the strength the drug gave you.”

  “We’d have known about anything like that,” Renia said, sounding less than convinced.

  “Dayton’s sources may not have the details,” Arlen said. “We’ve come a long way since the drug was outlawed—and it was made in Therand, which historically practices a less structured form of clan magics. I doubt they had the skills to deduce just how it worked.”

  “I don’t care about any damn clan magic,” Renia cried. “I don’t want to die—not for this!” Her emphasis put her into another coughing fit, and when she was through she smeared a bloody handprint across the material covering her ample thigh.

  “I’ll call Sherra,” Arlen said. His eyes went distant for a moment, while Renia cleared her throat against a cough, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she rocked slightly on the bed. There was a barely noticeable tremor in her movement—and in the corner of her mouth, a small pool of bloody spittle started to collect.

  Jaime blinked at that, and looked again; it seemed to her that Renia’s face was a little lopsided, that the whole right side of it was slacker than the left. She’s bleeding inside, Jaime realized. Not just her lungs... everywhere. She’s had a small stroke and doesn’t even know it.

  Arlen came back to them. “She’ll come,” he said. “As quickly as she can. Kesna, would you meet her, please?” Kesna nodded, but there was no hope in her face—or in Arlen’s.

  Jaime didn’t quite understand —Sherra had, after all, had once healed Jaime’s significant head injury. Why not this?

  She leaned into Arlen, her back to Renia. “Is it the uncontrolled magic? It won’t let Sherra do her healing magic, will it?”

  Arlen gave her a rueful look. “I anticipate some interference.” An understatement, to judge by his expression.

  “If I’m going to die, at least don’t be rude about it,” Renia said. When Jaime turned back to her, the wizard was wiping a tear from her eye with a shaky hand. The gesture left a streak of a bruise across her face.

  “Here,” Jaime said. “Let me help you lie back in bed. We can prop the chair cushion under your back. It might be easier for you.”

  “Oh, go to hells with your pity,” Renia snapped, but wobbled in the process.

  “Get the cushion, Jaime,” Arlen said. “Renia, you’ve got one chance at revenge. We need to know everything we can about Dayton and the other wizards. But if you tell us nothing else, tell us where they are.”

  Renia laughed shortly. It wasn’t pleasant, and as Jaime shoved the cushion behind the bed pillow, she decided she wasn’t sure if it was even entirely sane. Renia eased back against the pillow, turning into something limper than living flesh should
be. She laughed again, a quiet little private sound, her eyes closed. Natt made an uneasy movement near the door.

  “You don’t have to stay,” Arlen told him, and didn’t wait for a response. “Renia. Tell us. Tell us now.”

  The quiet laugh, repeated, ended in a little sob. “He got in touch with us individually... he must have done his homework... had us all pegged. Nothing but mid-level wizards, never going to be anything more. I tried,” she said, opening her eyes to look earnestly at Arlen. “I really did try. But I never made it... too proud to be a vocational wizard... left me with nothing, really. Old clothes, friends who weren’t friends at all, just other wizards who couldn’t make the level... .” She blinked, then blinked again, hard. “Can’t see you anymore, Arlen. Better not be pity you have on your face. Better not be.”

  Compassion was an entirely different thing from pity, Jaime thought, looking at Arlen. He took her hand to give it a brief squeeze. “Where are they, Renia?” he asked, softly but insistently; he sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch Renia. “We can stop Dayton, if you tell me where he is. Let us be your revenge.”

  “Not with Willand there, Council wizard. Willand on mage lure... not something you want to see. She’s been quiet, except for that one windstorm... doesn’t want you all to know just how strong she is...” She was silent a moment, and then whispered, “That’s why they never sent another storm, another anything. Dayton must have told them not to. He must have told them I’d die... I wonder if he told them just why...”

  Where is he, Jaime wanted to scream, and bit her lip instead.

  “Willand will kill you all...” Renia said, her sightless eyes wandering the room and making Jaime’s skin crawl. “After she gets that horse... after she makes you pay...”

  “Where,” Arlen said, his voice no louder than hers but much more urgent. “Renia—”

  Too late. Renia gave a cry of pain and snatched at her head, and seconds later, her body arched into a seizure. It was brief, just a few seconds of clawing fingers beating at the bedsheets as Arlen jumped to his feet and out of the way—and then the woman went limp.