Changespell 01 Dunn Lady's Jess (33 page)

"I can see that," Arlen replied acerbically. "You've obviously started in on her already."

Calandre laughed. "Oh, no. I assure you, when my people use someone as leverage, there is no mistaking the results. This is just the side effect of her capture—I told you our little skirmish is spreading out beyond this ugly little stone den of yours."

"You're a disturbed woman, Calandre, you know that?" Arlen said in a curiously detached voice.

"I
like
this place," Jaime dared to mutter.

"Yes, dear, you're very loyal," Calandre said, infuriatingly patronizing. She was holding her elbows again, regarding Arlen with complete composure. "I might even give you the night to yourself; you can spend the hours looking forward to tomorrow."

Bitch.
Jaime gave her an even stare, a complete bluff.

"You might not need it," Arlen said. "Give me a few minutes with her. Give me time to see what's been happening. I may decide there's no point in keeping the spell from you anymore."

"Very good. You said that with a straight face."

Arlen shrugged. "What can you lose, Calandre? If you're in luck she'll spend the time pleading with me to help her—as you can see, she's certainly not going to do that while you're here."

"Not today, anyway. However . . ." She glanced first at Willand and then over her shoulder at the guard. "You searched her for weapons or spellstones?"

Willand nodded with satisfaction. "She had a protection stone, that's all. And a small knife, of course, but Gerrant has that now."

"Well, then." Calandre gave Jaime another hard look. "Beg well, Jaime. Your future depends on it." She turned her back on them and marched out of the room, followed by Willand, who could not help a few doubting, backward glances.

Jaime couldn't believe it. "Just like that?" she asked incredulously.

"Nothing is ever 'just like that,' " Arlen said. "Now, tell me the things you think I most need to know."

Jaime hesitated. "What if she listens?"

"She can't, not in these rooms. Quickly now, don't waste what little time we may have!" His tired voice slid into the command mode she was sure he was used to assuming and, though it made her prickle a little, she balked no longer.

"I met Carey on a different world, my world. It's—well, it's too complicated to go into, but we ended up back here—Eric dead, the three of us, and Carey and Jess. Carey gave Sherra the spell, and she's got everyone working on a check for it. I've been riding with her couriers to coordinate the whole thing, and I was on a run when Willand and her pals got me." She thought a moment and added reluctantly, "Carey wanted to come get you—he said something about a special recall—but Sherra wouldn't let him. She didn't want to set Calandre off. It looks like Calandre's out causing trouble anyway, now."

"Jess?" Arlen murmured, taking her news about the lack of forthcoming rescue with a thoughtful nod.

"Lady. The magic turned her into a woman on my world. She's a horse again, though—that's who I was riding. I sent her back to Sherra's, so they should be able to figure out I didn't just lose my way. Not that they'll do anything about it."

"Sent her back to Sherra's, hmm. I suppose that's how you got those battle scars. Willand and her errand boys wouldn't have liked that."

Jaime scowled, even though it hurt. "Willand. That woman belongs in a bad beach movie, damn perky little nose of hers. I wish it could feel like
mine
does right now."

"Yes, well . . . I'm afraid, my dear, that your nose may be the least of it before this is over."

"Is this where I'm supposed to beg?" Jaime asked, suddenly realizing how sick her stomach felt. "I've never done that before, but I think I could get real good at it."

Slowly, reluctantly, he shook his head. "I can be of no help to you. This is more important than either of us, although it must seem particularly unfair to you. At least
I
got myself into this mess. And you must know by now that there is very little chance of rescue from Sherra—not that I blame her. It's the right decision."

Right.
"What . . . what do you think they'll do to me?" Jaime asked in a low voice. Something graphic, no doubt, something that looked bad for Arlen to see. Her imagination took over and ran, presenting her with scenes of torture that came straight from the Inquisition.

"Jaime, don't," Arlen said. "Listen to me. This won't go on for long—it may not happen at all. I haven't eaten in . . . well, a couple of days now. I moved preserved rations up here the same day I sent Carey out, but I didn't plan on being closed in this long. I don't get much sleep because the guards all have orders to rouse me regularly. Calandre is right when she says I won't be able to keep this up much longer."

"At least you chose the right room to close yourself into," Jaime commented, trying very hard for a lighter atmosphere.

Arlen smiled, a weary looking expression almost hidden in his scruffy beard. "When it first became obvious that no one was going to be able to help me—for Sherra did try at first, and Calandre was delighted to tell me Sherra couldn't get through the shields she'd set up—I tied a second spell in with
my
shield spell. When the shield finally fails, I will die."

"But—" Jaime said, startled; then her protest died unvoiced, as she realized his genuine acceptance of the idea. "I keep hearing about Ninth Level this and Ninth Level that, but no one's said anything about God. Do you have a god to pray to, Arlen?"

Arlen shook his head, brow creased, and Jaime suddenly realized that the word
god
had come out in English. "How can you have heaven without—"

"You didn't change his mind, did you?" Calandre said from just inside the big room. "I didn't think you would—but I can be as indulgent as the next person, when I feel like it."

Jaime gave Arlen a searching look, trying to find that which had sustained him through his harrowing imprisonment—something that she could use for herself. He gave her a sad smile, and she said, "I don't think I'll be very good at this, Arlen. Don't hold it against me if I
do
try to change your mind, later."

"No," he said simply. "I won't."

The sudden three-tiered call of a morning owl brought Carey out of his thoughts and he glanced back through the deep grey light of dawn to the indistinct figures who followed him through the lightly wooded area. They were breathing hard after the ascent up the steep shale hill that loomed over the dry riverbed, but no one's saddle was sneaking backwards, and the horses still looked good.

At first he'd chafed at the way Mark and Dayna slowed him, resenting every extra moment between this one and the one in which he planned to trigger the special recall, but as the miles passed and neither of his neophyte riders ventured a complaint, the uncharitable thoughts faded. They were doing their best, and he'd be foolish to push them so hard that they had nothing left when he needed backup in the little hollow he'd chosen for their camp.

Their departure had been straightforward, if not as simple as Carey had hoped. With most of the cabin hold's folk in the village, and many of the volunteer and regular foot soldiers out escorting slow-moving wizards around, the barn had been quiet in the late evening hours during which, casually and without ceremony, he had simply walked through the threshold spell that was supposed to keep him in the room. The three conspirators had armed themselves with food pilfered from the kitchen and walked quietly to the barn. The horses were snorting and curious about the late night activity, but it wasn't unusual enough to start a fuss; they'd left the barn with nary a wayward whinny, and with three of Sherra's precious horses and Lady.

It was the gate that had almost tripped them up. The guard had turned out to be a man new enough to the post that he was still looking for excuses to use his authority, such as it was, and he seemed almost eager for them to create a disturbance.

Katrie had appeared to ease the way for them. Katrie, whom Jaime had first fought, and then gained as a friend—and who knew who Carey was, and where he should have been. Out and about on her own business, she was drawn to the commotion in front of the closed gate. In a brightly stitched, suspiciously rumpled tunic, still hand in hand with a man who was obviously smitten by her, she told the troublesome guard that Carey, his two friends, and his extra horse were known to her and were classed as good folk, not to be harassed. She held Carey's eye while the disgruntled man went to open the heavy gate, and said evenly, "Just bring her back."

For her role in the evening's activities, Carey had no doubt there would be some kind of price, and that she would face it head on. It was a gift he accepted without guilt or hesitation, and now he wondered if he should have asked her to join them, despite the delay it would have caused. Instead, he had two earnest but outclassed and tired friends from another world.

A chorus of trilling birds had joined the morning owl, and Carey gave another look over his shoulder. This was their second dawn of summer-heat travel and about time to call it quits for a few hours, so they would be well rested—or as close to it as they could get—for the final approach to the hollow. Dayna was right behind him on the little smooth-gaited bay Mark had quickly labeled Fahrvegnügen, a name that seemed to amuse Mark and made Dayna give him one of her
grow up
looks. Mark was on a rangy, cold-backed grey who would cheerfully ignore the banging his rider might inflict upon him, while just as cheerfully barging through, past and over any obstacles in his path. Carey rode the big black horse he'd come to know fairly well and, following him on a loose lead line was Dun Lady's Jess, the mare who'd already taken the stairway in the hold. He was counting on her to lead the double-loaded gelding past the sensible fear that would stop him at the head of those stairs.

A shift of his weight and the gelding stopped, patiently mouthing the bit while Carey waited for the others to draw abreast. "We'll hit some thicker woods in half an hour or so," he said, prompting them both to check their watches. "As soon as we do, we'll eat a bite and grab some sleep. After that, it's only another couple hours to the hollow I was talking about. You two going to hold up all right?"

Mark groaned expressively in response, but Dayna had the same look she'd kept during their interminable run from the pickup truck toward Sherra's—drawn, tired, and not about to admit it. Well, a couple hours' sleep would do her some good—and after he'd invoked the recall, she'd have all the time it took him to return to the hollow by horseback. It would have to be enough. He touched the gelding with his calves and turned toward the distant hollow.

"You want me to
what
?" Jaime stared at Willand, a blunt and defiant expression.

Willand studied her long fingernails in a posture of boredom. "I'm quite certain you heard me the first time, but I'll repeat it anyway. Take off your clothes."

Jaime looked at Arlen, a request for guidance. He returned a grave countenance, one that told her there would be no easy answers here. They'd had a virtually sleepless night during which they exchanged bits and pieces of their lives with one another, for Calandre had returned only long enough to tell them they would have the benefit of one another's company for the duration—a more convenient arrangement than ferrying Jaime from place to place. The guard's replacement had carried up a breakfast meal that was so good Jaime knew it had to have been solely for Arlen's benefit. She'd tried to refuse it, but he wouldn't let her, and she hadn't argued with him; it would have been a pointless gesture to go hungry.

Now she was suddenly afraid that the breakfast would stage a reappearance. She vowed she would at least wait until Willand was within range, and clamped her jaw on the taste of bile that etched at the back of her tongue.

"You know," Willand said suddenly, shooting her a dangerous look, there and then gone again as she continued to contemplate her manicure, "this can be a lot worse than I had planned. It's up to you."

Jaime's hands strayed to her tunic, and ended up nervously smoothing the closely woven material, running over the belt loops of her culturally alien breeches beneath. Another glance at Arlen showed he'd deliberately turned his back. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and shrugged the tunic over her head, dropping it on top of the knee-high riding boots she'd removed the evening before. Her thin linen camisole offered little coverage, but suddenly she felt very attached to it.

"Oh, be reasonable, Arlen. We knew you'd try this, the 'I'm not watching' ploy. Do you think you can not listen as well? You'd better be listening now, because I'm telling you that if you don't pay proper attention, we'll just kill her right now."

Blonde beach bimbo
, Jaime thought in amazement, wondering how such a thoroughly depraved person could be hidden behind that face, and how she ever could have missed it.

"You're going to kill her anyway, in the end," Arlen said heavily, still facing away from them. Jaime's hands hesitated by the snap of her breeches, and Willand made an imperious gesture that commanded her to wait until this little discussion was over.

"Maybe we'll kill her, maybe we won't. The point is, unless you participate in this, I'll just have it done right now. After all, as long as she's alive, there's some chance you might be able to save her—now, that's worth playing the game, don't you think?"

"I don't play games, Willand, especially not the kind of games Calandre is fond of. But . . . Jaime, it's up to you." He turned his head ever so slightly, just enough to let her know he was waiting for a reply. "If it helps, you should know that this is no idle threat. They won't bother to keep you alive if you're of no use to them." His voice sounded tired, the weariness of someone who has already seen too much.

Great choice, Jaime thought. Die now, or endure torture and then probably die later anyway. Her trembling hands fingered the snap at her waist and she said, "I'm sorry, Arlen, but I'm not ready to give up yet."
I'm sorry, but you're going to have to watch this
.