Changespell Legacy (15 page)

Jess glanced at them, neatly placing the folded pants into the duffle assigned to the palomino. "I think I'll need another braid." She currently bore two—small, tightly braided sections of coarse sandy dun hair behind her left ear, holding the spellstones with her special personalized changespells along with the courier recall stone, the protection from hostile magic in use directly against her, the friend-foe spell . . .

Dayna didn't think any of them would be of much use in Ohio. She'd kept them as simple as possible, going on faith and the knowledge that previous stones had maintained at least a tenuous connection with Camolen.

She separated the stones into smaller bundles, leaving a bundle at each of the seats around the table.

"Carey's, Jaime's, mine, yours . . . Suliya's." Then she looked up at Jess, who was stuffing thick socks into a pair of nearly shapeless lace-up shoes. "Tell me again just
why
Suliya's coming? She obviously doesn't want to."

Jess gave her a flat look, her dark-rimmed brown eyes so expressionless that Dayna should have seen her reply coming. "
I
don't want to go. The palomino will say he did not want to go, when he is able. Suliya is like the rest of us . . . doing as events have said we must."

Dayna stopped in the act of untangling Carey's spellstones, opened her mouth—and closed it again, mustering her willpower to stem the words crowding on her tongue—words to underscore the potential danger Camolen faced, that they were the only ones who could travel to Ohio and hope for the slightest chance of success, that they were cut off from everyone else with no opportunity to convince the new Council that the travel was necessary in the first place—at least, not in time.

But she didn't say any of it, because Jess already knew it. She simply disagreed with it.

That she
could
, that she'd grown enough from her first moments of being human to this complex woman who could examine a multifaceted situation, come to her own conclusions, and stand by them— As far as Dayna was concerned, it was merely evidence that they were doing the right thing—that the palomino would adapt, and without the handicap Jess carried for her first weeks in Ohio—when no one knew who or what she was—would quickly be able to tell them what they needed to know.

But she didn't think she'd make points with Jess by bringing that up now. Instead, she said, "I meant, why
Suliya
. She obviously doesn't want to come; she'd rather stay here and ride for Anfeald. And she's not the easiest person to work with." Honesty compelled her to stop and add, "Of course, neither am I."

The smallest of smiles tugged at the corner of Jess's mouth. She said, "I thought about asking Ander, but with no dispatch and no travel booths, Kymmet is too far away. And they probably need him."

Ander. Tall, gorgeously blond, a little too certain of himself—but good in a pinch. Dependable. He'd saved Jaime's life the summer before, lost his heart to Jess in the process . . . and still counted her among the people he'd go far, far out of his way to help.

If he'd known she needed him. If he could get here.

Dayna shook her head. "You're right. I wish we could reach him . . . but he's too far away. But—"

Jess looked over at the door, as if reassuring herself that Suliya wasn't standing right there, then looked down at her hands. "We can't spare the others," she said. "They all know the shortcuts; they know the horses and the roads. And the palomino . . . I will need the help. Besides," and she gave Dayna a shrewd look, more shrewd than Dayna expected from this woman who started life as an honest and willing horse, "you saw her with Garvin. She has . . . a confidence. She'll need it."

"She has
a confidence
because she doesn't know how much she doesn't know," Dayna said by way of a grumble. "Including, I think, that sometimes life isn't fair—or should I say, sometimes it won't be fair to
her
."

Jess gave her a questioning look at that last, picking up the strung spellstones Dayna had brought her and running them through her fingers in an absent, explorative way. She'd almost broken herself of the habit of investigating new things with her sense of smell and so didn't raise the stones to check their scent, but Dayna often saw her nostrils flare upon meeting someone new . . . and often caught Carey smiling at the impulse, an affectionate smile he'd only recently allowed himself.

It struck her then how well she understood and liked these people, and that with their world already turned upside down, maybe it was time to make other changes, to settle closer to them. After all, she had no idea who would take Sherra's place at Siccawei. Or Arlen's . . . or any of them. She hadn't known half of the deceased Council members, and although she'd caught some quick scuttlebutt before leaving Second Siccawei, she certainly didn't know the new Council members.

Or whether any of them would be the least interested in mentoring a woman from another world with a penchant for raw magic and an odd mix of skills—struggling with basics on some levels, soaring above most of her peers on others.

Jess, unaware of Dayna's wandering thoughts, said with honest curiosity, "How can you tell? You only met her days ago."

Dayna dragged her thoughts back to the conversation. Suliya. "Let's just say I know the type."

Jess made a noise to show she was thinking about that and tucked the spellstones into a small pouch.

"You really should wear those," Dayna said, sorting through her own, making swift decisions about how to restring and reorganize them.

With a slight shake of her head, Jess looked down at herself. "I start as Lady," she said. "When we get there, then I'll put them on." She looked abruptly at the door, and Dayna knew to expect someone; she wasn't surprised when Carey entered the doorway, stopping there to lean against the frame in a deceptively lazy way that let Dayna know he was actually good and ready to go.

"Jaime'll be here in a moment," he said. "Suliya's supposed to be here already. We're as prepared as we're ever going to be . . . let's get this thing started."

"Time to lock and load," Dayna said, rolling her eyes when Jess and Carey turned identically baffled expressions her way—although Carey almost immediately realized she was using an Earth expression, and dismissed it as not important enough to follow up on. His gaze fell on Jess for a long moment, and he said, "You just about ready?"

"There is no
ready
," Jess said. "There is waiting, and then there is making the change. But I will never be
ready
to do this to him."

"I know," he said, watching her with a wistfulness Dayna rarely saw on the long angles of his face. "But you might try being ready to do it
for
me. For us. For Arlen."

Jess looked at him then, but it was a look full of thought, and far from conclusion.

S
uliya finally showed up with two heavy bags slung over her shoulder, eliciting much dry amusement from Carey. Just shy of a shouting match later, they'd whittled her supplies down to one bag—"It's
spring
there," Carey said more than once, eyeing the extra sweater she wanted to bring, "and we can get anything you need!"—and gathered up all the gear to head for the foaling stall from which they planned to depart, the barn almost entirely cleared of witnesses. Two horses and three people, all holding hands and clinging to lead ropes with the plan to avoid the separation Carey and Jess had experienced on their first journey.

Then again, Jess thought as she trailed the group down the aisle, on that first journey she and Carey had just pitched over the edge of a steep, vertical, dry riverbed, with Carey already flung from the saddle by the impact of an arrow. Since then they'd used more refined spells for the handful of visits to Earth they'd made, and had no way of knowing how much of the separation had been caused by the spell, and how much caused by the circumstances under which Carey had triggered it to save their lives.

Jess set her saddlebags down next to her changing stall; she intended to wear her harness with her bags—and clothes—firmly attached; she knew for certain her gear would come with her even if the travelers became separated, and if nothing else she wasn't going to end up in Ohio—off-trail in one of the area's nature parks, to be precise—without clothing to pull on. Nakedness had never bothered her in the least . . . but she'd learned to avoid the reactions from others when they had to deal with it.

She waited for Tenlia, one of Carey's couriers and tired-looking at that, to lead her second horse of the day down toward the door, lifting a hand in greeting to Jess on the way by; the woman didn't even notice the occupants of the foaling stall, although the travelers would wait for the barn to clear before acting. No wonder Jaime had been left with instructions to recruit riders if she could, to scour Anfeald for suitable horses, and to streamline the ride assignments—although Jess still harbored hopes that Jaime would decide to travel with them. Jaime, the one person who seemed to understand the depth of Jess's reluctance over their decisions for the palomino, the one who saw the goods and the bads of their plans clearly in spite of what she wanted or wished things would be.

Jaime, who was coming down the aisle to see them off.

Jess lingered by the door of the changing stall, wanting a few last human moments. "Are you sure—" she started as Jaime reached her—but Jaime shook her head before Jess could even finish.

"I know this might be my last chance to get home," she said. "Believe me, I know that. There's no telling how things are going to go on this end—or if the new Council will even allow the travel spell at all without Arlen—" She stopped, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then met Jess's gaze with a sad, almost self-mocking look. "It's just that I can't believe it yet."
Arlen's death
. "And until I can believe it, I can't leave. I can't . . . I mean, what if he shows up tomorrow? No one ever
saw
him dead . . . and if he did—show up, I mean—then I have to—"

"Jaime," Jess said, cutting her off with that single low word; Jaime looked surprised, as if suddenly realizing she'd been babbling. Jess said, "Do you remember how hard I looked for Carey when Dayna and Eric first found me? When no one believed I was a horse—
Carey's
horse—or that he was even real?"

Jaime gave her a hesitant nod.

"Stay here," Jess said. "Wait for Arlen."

Jaime seemed to stop breathing for a moment, and when she started again it was in an uncertain fashion.

But then she turned to the matters at hand and said, "Anyway, I can do some good here for both Carey and Arlen, at least when I'm not drugged into oblivion. And Mark ought to be expecting you; I spelled him a message last night. The only question is whether he'll read it in time—he doesn't seem to check the thing regularly."

"We have his phone number," Jess said, Ohio words that felt strange in her mouth after so many months without a visit. "And Simney is working on the thing that happens to you in the evening?"

Jaime gave her a wry grin. "Yes, Simney is working on
the thing
. And Cesna, too; it's giving her something to think about that has nothing to do with Arlen, and she's good at little mysteries like that.

They both agree it has something to do with magic. They'll figure it out. I can afford to be a little more patient as long as I have the spelled wine."

Carey and Suliya came down the aisle leading the stallion. Carey peeled off from her side then hesitated by Jess and Jaime. "You all right?" he asked Jaime. "You want to make any last-minute changes?"

Jaime shook her head, resolute despite the delicacy she seemed to have taken on over the last few days.

Jess had never imagined looking at Jaime's strong rider's body and thinking the word
delicate
at the same moment, but here she'd done it, and not for the first time. But Jaime just said, "I wish you'd rethink this plan, but I'm through arguing about it. I'll stay here and do what I need to. I hope I'm wrong, and this turns out to be the right thing." She hesitated, but didn't offer him a parting hug even though it hung between them. She and he had started off too much on the wrong foot, and Jess had long ago accepted that the history between them meant they would never be close friends, no matter how well they knew one another.

"Thank you," Carey said, holding Jaime's gaze a beat longer than necessary—saying those things they could never say. And then he turned to Jess and repeated his question. "You all right? Last-minute changes?"

Jess, too, shook her head. The changes she wanted would never happen, and it would bother her too much to ask and be denied . . . again. She still mourned the loss of something between them. Something she hadn't yet quite identified, but felt as keenly as any clumsy hand on the rein . . . and something that Carey only now seemed to notice.

"Jess," he said—and stopped, at a loss. "Jess, I—"

Jess said softly, "Choices matter," and left it at that.

He rubbed his thumb over his lower lip, looked at her another contemplative moment, and then, torn, looked away, failing her and knowing it. Making choices. "See you on the other side of the spell," he said, hesitated again, and then headed for the foaling stall.

"Yes," Jess said, still softly, watching after him. "The other side of the spell."

"Don't worry," Jaime said, keeping her voice low. "You know how he gets when it comes to doing his best for Arlen. The man practically brought him up. He'll get through this."

"Through being a man-brained mule's butt?" Jess asked, not quite able to put the asperity in her voice that she'd intended.

Jaime laughed anyway, and gave her a quick hug. "Come back soon," she said. "I'll keep a stall bedded for you."

And Jess had to laugh too, no doubt what Jaime had intended. She ducked into the changing stall, centering herself so she'd fit as Lady; closing her eyes, she triggered one of the sapphire stones dangling from her long, thin, spellstone braid.