The Changespell Saga

by Doranna Durgin

  “It’s not that bad,” Gacy protested mildly. He gave his backside a meaningful rub and added, “It’s not the only thing with side-effects.”

  “No kidding,” Mark agreed.

  Carey tuned them out, going to the blank, tired space he’d been cultivating so assiduously. And then he blinked, because Katrie was standing in front of him with a mixture of annoyance and concern on her face, saying his name for what was apparently not the first time.

  “Carey! What Level have you lost yourself on?”

  “What’d you find?” Carey asked shortly.

  “No indication anyone’s there, though there were horses here earlier. I haven’t translated any of the sign, yet—so stick to the edge of the trees when we hit the clearing, and tie up. I don’t want you messing up what little that hard dry ground has to tell me.” She took her reins from Carey, looped them over her horse’s head, and swung into the saddle, leading the way down the short lane while Mark and Gacy still struggled to mount. Soon enough, they reached the small clearing; Carey slipped his halter over the bay’s bridle to tie up along the edge.

  “There’s a bridle lying in front of the cabin,” Katrie said, and pointed. “And there’s an area to the right and behind the cabin that I want you three to stay away from until I’m through with it.”

  “But no one’s here?” Mark asked, as though he hadn’t heard her earlier proclamation.

  “No one you know,” Katrie said grimly. “And no one alive.”

  Carey left the bay while the others still fumbled with halters and bridles, jogging to the forlorn jumble of leather and metal by the cabin. It didn’t take a second glance to recognize Lady’s current bridle. Nearby a series of hoof prints gouged the earth, the sign of a startled and explosive take-off. Lady. He left the bridle and skirted the area in deference to Katrie, heading for the cabin and its ajar front door. No one alive, she’d said. Since there was no one outside, that meant—

  “Carey, no!” Gacy cried as Carey reached across the threshold to push the door—and too late at that. The doorway erupted in a glaring offensive of light and sound and power, enclosing Carey in cacophony. Then the hard ground smacked him between the shoulder blades, hitting him as hard as the magic. As the discordant assault faded away, it was replaced by the slap of running feet and panting breath and anger.

  “Ninth level damnation, you should know better than that, Carey!” Gacy said from somewhere above his head, as horse sweat-scented fingers caught his chin and probed his neck for a pulse. A groan wormed its way out from deep inside him, and those same fingers patted his cheek gently.

  “Is he alive?” Katrie asked, carefully dispassionate, at the same time Mark blurted, “What the hell was that?!”

  “Pyrotechnics, I think,” Gacy said. “He’s stunned, but I think all right.” His voice moved further away, paused, and then pronounced, “Whoever got here first left us a childish little gesture.”

  “You call that a childish little gesture?” Mark said, kneeling by Carey. Carey blinked, trying to see past the multi-colored whirls of light that still obscured his vision. He thought about sitting up, but his body didn’t respond; in fact, it could barely feel the comforting hand Mark had rested on his arm as he asked, “What happened to those famous checkspells you guys always talk about? How can you let a dangerous spell like that go unchecked?”

  Gacy was close again. “Because very similar spells are used in some of our mining operations. We do our best, Mark, but there are certainly available spells that cause havoc if put to other than their intended purpose.”

  Off to the side, Katrie made a sound of disgust. “There’s not much I can figure here, except that there were several horses—three, maybe. All we know for certain is from that bridle—Jaime was here. Is it safe to go inside, now, Gacy?”

  “It spells out clear,” Gacy said absently. “Here, Carey, I’m no healer, but see if this doesn’t help.”

  Relief. His vision cleared, the haziness inside his head faded away, and even if his body still showed no inclination to sit up, he at least had the feeling it could, if he insisted. And when he heard Gacy’s low voice saying, “Poor Theo,” he did, indeed, insist. From his back to his knees to his wobbly feet, with Mark steadying him, he dragged himself to the cabin.

  Katrie hunkered by a man’s disfigured body, staring with disgust at the slashing wounds. “No reason for this kind of brutality,” she muttered, glancing up at Carey’s arrival. “If this was done by Calandre’s people, she’s giving them a pretty long rein.”

  “This isn’t Theo’s hand,” Gacy said from the long worktable he was scrutinizing. Katrie left the body for the table, and Gacy gestured at the neatly sorted papers set aside from the rest of the jumble. “And I don’t think it’s all here, either.”

  “How can you tell?” Katrie let her gaze roam the rest of the cabin, too impatient to wait for Gacy’s explanation before looking for her own clues.

  “For one thing, Theo works—worked—in a state of perpetual clutter. And he’s a scribbler, always putting down cryptic little bits and pieces of his spells on paper. Like this.” He pulled out a paper from the middle of a stack; the sheet was nearly black with ink scrawlings, illegible notes that took up the entire surface area. Gacy spread the pile out on the table, stared at it a moment, and shook his head. “There’s nothing here on the checkspell or the world-travel spell. And there should be.”

  “That’s not too surprising,” Katrie said dryly. “We already know a wizard set that spell at the door. No doubt that same person sorted Theo’s stuff. Calandre’s trying to figure out where we stand.”

  “And maybe get her hands on Arlen’s spell while she’s at it,” Carey said. “She must be getting frustrated.”

  “But—what about Jaime?” Mark said. “They must have taken her, but why bother? She can’t tell them anything.”

  Katrie shook her head. “I don’t know the answer to that one—but I think we’d better get back to Sherra with what we’ve learned. There’s no telling what else Calandre is up to, if she’s decided to go on the offensive within Siccawei.”

  And Carey hadn’t even precipitated things by going after Arlen. The bitter thought made way for the next, a decision that was made before Carey gave it any conscious thought. There was nothing to stop him from using the recall spell now—especially if no one knew he was going to do it. He glanced at Mark and quickly amended the resolution—there were people who would support him in this, especially considering that he might just find Jaime at Arlen’s stronghold as well.

  Katrie cast him a sharp look. “Are you all right for the ride back?”

  “I’m all right,” Carey said grimly. His thoughts had forged ahead to new goals, to discarding the overwork that had served him so poorly on this day. It was time to renew his resources, to retreat and recover.

  And then it would be time to attack.

  But when they returned to Sherra’s cabin, riding through the steadily falling warm summer rain, some of that new intent must have shown in Carey’s face. She waited only long enough to hear the group’s report, and then she took his spell stones away and put him in a guest room under house arrest.

  ~~~~~

  Dayna stood with her back to the late afternoon light of the workroom window and watched Chiara, wondering if her assumptions about the friends and enemies of this world had been correct after all. Jaime was kidnapped, Jess had been suppressed into Lady, and Carey was confined in a first floor room—a comfortable enough place, but there was no mistaking its nature. The spell Gacy set at the threshold let others pass, but kept Carey within. And Sherra had appropriated his spell stones.

  Insulting. Callous. Not really benign at all. And it set Dayna to thinking how no one had gone after Arlen, how they were willing to sacrifice Jaime, how they hadn’t really looked into the confusion that was Dun Lady’s Jess.

  So now, while Mark pretended even to himself that someone would soon go and fetch Jaime and while Carey slept, repairing the stresse
s of an overworked body, Dayna considered their options—and what Carey had asked of her.

  She’d poked her head in his room before she’d come upstairs, just to make sure he hadn’t changed his mind—but hadn’t tried to wake him. If he really meant to go through with his kamikaze plan, he’d need all the rest he could get. And it was that kamikaze plan that put her here, designated thief and spy instead of unwilling student. As such, Dayna slid away from the window and along the wall to the cabinet behind Chiara’s back.

  The cabinet of magic trinkets. Right.

  Dayna was still amazed at the way magic threaded through this society. Her initial impression of rude and unrefined lifestyles had been replaced by a reality in which those lives were at least as comfortable and secure as her own. There were spells for keeping teeth clean, there were spells for cramps, there were spells to repel mice and vermin. Not everyone could afford them all, of course, but then, there were plenty of places in Ohio where people lived with mice—including Jaime’s old farmhouse.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Chiara said, without looking up from the leather bound spell notebook she carefully inscribed. Dayna froze with her hand on the cupboard door as Chiara frowned at her own notes. “Do you remember what that woman said she needed? Was it a weather forecast for one day, or one week?”

  Dayna forced an indifferent reply. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I was looking at some of the sale crystals while you talked.” Crystals she had crudely strung together in an approximation of Carey’s necklace and that she was just about to—with a quick glance to see that Chiara still puzzled over her list—switch with the real thing. Can’t believe I’m—and then it was done. Nary a rattle of stone against stone escaped the muffling flannel cloth she used to handle the necklaces, and Dayna stuffed the contraband into the deep pocket of her shift.

  “You talked to Carey lately?” Chiara asked unexpectedly.

  “No,” Dayna squeaked, then cleared her throat. “Not since yesterday. Why?”

  Her tutor turned and gave Dayna a quizzical eye. “Are you catching a cold? No? Because I was wondering if he’s accepted things, or if he’s just getting angrier.”

  “He’s been sleeping,” Dayna said, managing to inject a sensible note into her voice. “Besides, it sounds as though Arlen and Jaime have a better chance if Sherra decides it’s time to get them, instead of having Carey blundering around.” There, a little disinformation, planted—and hopefully not overdone.

  “I’m surprised you feel that way,” Chiara said, and looked it. “I thought Jaime was a good friend of yours.”

  “She is,” Dayna said stoutly. “Which is why I wish you people weren’t taking such a damn long time to deal with this.”

  “If Jaime’s headed for Arlen’s hold, she won’t get there till sometime tomorrow,” Chiara assured her, pushing the notebook aside. “Even if a courier can make it here from Arlen’s in one day, not everyone can—and Gacy said there were two men plus the wizard woman, and one horse for each. That means Jaime is riding double with one of them.”

  “How does he know that?” Dayna blurted. Carey certainly didn’t.

  Chiara wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I was supposed to let it slip.” She hesitated and allowed, “Gacy ran a spell on the place while Carey was recovering from the door spell blast. The wizard was a woman, and she had two men with her—the ones who actually killed Theo.” Her expression turned grim. “Gacy said they roughed Jaime up a little, but it seemed she’d basically be safe during the trip to Arlen’s.”

  “And no one told us?” Dayna asked incredulously.

  Chiara’s sensible response made Dayna all the more angry. “Why? Would it have really eased your mind? And Carey’s been so...strange since he came back to Camolen. Unpredictable.”

  Dayna didn’t know about that. She felt pretty sure she could predict exactly what Carey was going to do. And she was just as sure that she’d be in on it.

  ~~~~~

  Dayna broke away from Chiara easily, when the woman sat down to review her brief notes about Dun Lady’s Jess. She wasted no time in locating Mark, who was learning to fletch arrows, and gave him the nod which meant she’d been successful. He made a more or less graceful exit from his group and together they hurried to Carey’s cell, a pleasant little room that offered luxury compared to the courier’s quarters.

  “You got them,” he said with satisfaction as he saw her expression. They easily stepped through the barrier that was keyed only to him, and he closed the door on their secrets. Dayna answered his greeting by pulling her hand from her pocket, letting the stones and chain trickle through her fingers and into his grasp.

  “I got something else, too,” she told him. “Chiara told me Gacy ran some kind of spell at Theo’s. He knows there were three of them, and three horses—so Jaime’s riding double with one of them. They,” and she nodded at the ceiling, indicating the upper rooms where the wizards and students worked, “figure it’ll be tomorrow before they get to Arlen’s place.”

  Carey nodded absently, his eyes narrowed as he worked out the distances for himself. “I’d have to agree with that,” he said after a minute. “Good. If we get out of here tonight...riding in darkness, keeping the speed down for you guys...we can make it to a good base mid-day after tomorrow, and I’ll trigger the recall from there.”

  “I don’t get it,” Mark muttered, shaking his head. At Carey’s questioning look, he scowled. “I still can’t understand why they took Jaime in the first place.”

  Dayna hesitated. She’d heard enough discussion in the work rooms to understand that any courier was at risk, considered a possible source of information. She’d also come to understand that Carey’s line of dun horses was well known in the area.

  And Mark, bless his soul, had as usual assumed that the rest of the world was as straightforward as he. The circuitous reasoning that allowed everyone else to conclude that Jaime had become a bargaining chip still escaped him, and for once she thought maybe his way was the best. “I can’t understand it either,” she said firmly, startling Carey—with whom she’d already discussed the possible dangers that might await Jaime. She gave him a quick, hard look, and he hid his surprise behind a shrug that said he, too, was at a loss to explain the abduction.

  Not quite as naive as all that, for Mark narrowed his eyes, a doubting look that might actually have led to the truth if there hadn’t been a knock at the door. Carey dropped the spell stones around his neck and tucked them out of sight, nodding to Dayna; she opened the door.

  Sherra waited on the other side, her fine, thick hair in the kind of disarray that meant she’d been pushing it around during deep discussion. Dayna gulped inside, certain that her theft had been discovered—but Sherra had her mind on other things. “You’re all here,” she said in surprise. “Well, that makes things a little less complicated. Would you like to talk in the great room?”

  “What?” Carey snorted. “You think I won’t try something stupid?”

  Irritation flickered across her face, but she mastered it. “If you’re going to come, you’ll have to stop sulking—or don’t you want to know what’s been happening?”

  “I want to know,” Mark volunteered. “I want to know if anybody’s going to help Jaime.”

  “Then come along. I don’t have much time, and my throat is dry.” She gave the confining door spell a dismissive gesture and its flicker faded as she turned away down the hall. Dutifully they followed; they found the great room hollowly empty of its usual bustle and Dayna looked around in distrust.

  “Most of them are out making preparations,” Sherra said, helping herself to a tumbler of water from a half-full pitcher and sitting down at the closest bench. She stared at the water in an absent instant of concentration and the tumbler frosted up. Dayna’s unexpected flicker of envy at the ease of the spellcasting made her blink, but she easily put it aside to concentrate on the conversation at hand—even if her gaze did return to that frosted tumbler a time or two.

&
nbsp; Carey rounded the end of the table to sit opposite Sherra and then leaned over the wood, weight on his elbows, impatience on his face. “So things are happening,” he said. “Are you going to tease us, or tell us about it?”

  “We’ve decided it’s not safe for the other wizards to be out on their own,” Sherra said without preamble. “Theo wasn’t the only wizard in trouble over these past few days, though no one else was killed. We’re not even risking couriers to spread the news. Those who can handle mage-travel are already arriving. The others will be met by armed escort. This little hold was never meant to be a fortress, but it’ll be protecting many frightened souls by tonight.” She took a sip of water and met Carey’s gaze—an even, hazel stare of judgment.

  “You kept me here so I wouldn’t stir up trouble for everyone else if I went Arlen,” he said. “And now you’ve got trouble anyway, and Arlen is still a prisoner.”

  “That’s right,” Sherra said. “It was the decision that seemed most prudent. I’m not going to second-guess it.”

  “There’s more,” Mark said suddenly. “You didn’t bring us here to tell us it was going to get crowded real soon now.”

  “No, I didn’t.” Sherra took a deep breath, and smoothed back some of her ruffled hair with one hand. “As Carey said, we’ve got the trouble anyway. There’s no longer any point in delaying an approach to Arlen’s hold. There are already Anfeald fighters gathering—the ones who have survived Calandre’s people so far—and we’re coordinating with the Lander peacekeepers. We’ll be joining them by mage-travel when we’re ready—probably late evening, two days from now. Early the next morning, we’ll...well, for want of a better word, we’ll attack.”

  “We?” Carey said pointedly.

  “We, the wizards who can be spared from the work here,” Sherra said, once more meeting his accusing stare with unruffled calm. “Wizards who are capable of mage-travel,” she defined further. “We won’t be carrying any baggage with us, Carey—that’s the way it’s got to be.”