The Changespell Saga Page 5

  “Excuse me,” Jess tried dutifully.

  Eric hung up the phone with a clunk and reached for his drink. “No one named Carey in any of the hospitals,” he said. “At least, none of ’em within 60 miles. I figure that’s far enough, if he was on foot like Jess. Was he naked, too, Jess?” he asked straightforwardly.

  Jess had one finger held above the surface of the soda, where the carbonation fizz bounced off of it. She put the finger in her mouth and said, “Naked?”

  “Like you were when we found you. No clothes.” At her continued lack of response he rolled his eyes and said, “No blankets, Jess.”

  “Blankets, yes,” she answered.

  “Blankets?” Jaime inquired, and heard the story of the few objects Jess identified on her own. She absorbed it with a thoughtful finger against her lips, then shook her head. “This is...pretty strange.” The words she finally settled on were woefully inadequate, but she knew she would find none better. “But as long as we’re talking about clothes, my brother’s got some things he never wears, and she looks about his size. Let me see if I can’t find something better than what she’s got on.”

  But Jess had been distracted, lured to the doorway between kitchen and family room, where the low murmur of a television had caught her sensitive ears. It took Jaime a moment to realize what had attracted her; her ears had sorted out and chosen to ignore the faint babble when she entered the house. To her, it meant only that her younger brother Mark had left the TV on when he’d left the house. To Jess, apparently, it was a wonder.

  A Roy Rogers western blazed black-and-white action on the screen, mixing running horses with hopelessly hokey but pleasantly sentimental songs. The hero’s horse ran faster than anybody else’s and Jess watched those chase scenes with complete and rapt attention, on her knees, her weight resting on splayed ankles.

  “It’s only a story,” Eric tried to explain more than once, causing Jaime to wonder how on earth there had remained this soul uncorrupted by even the very thought that somewhere, there existed the play-acted images of television. She and Eric sat on the short couch behind Jess and the afternoon drifted away as the short movie ended and another began; Eric got caught up in the movies and Jaime found herself watching Jess more than the television. It was she who called an end to it, after a chase scene ended with a wire-tripped horse plunging off a high cliff into the river below. She muted the sound with the TV remote and nudged Eric’s attention to Jess, who sat pale and shivering.

  Eric blinked at the sight. “Jess, it’s only a story, remember? People make up a story and film it so we can sit here and watch and pretend it’s real. But the good part is that we know the guy on that horse didn’t really get hurt.”

  “Horse?” Jess asked unhappily, brows wrinkled in concern.

  “The horse?” Eric fumbled, and, when understanding hit, hastily added, “The horse was fine. It’s just pretend.”

  Jaime gave him a sharp look, knowing that the movie had been filmed in an era during which the horse’s condition would not have been of much concern. But a second look at Jess’s distress made her understand Eric’s unqualified reassurance. Jess’s dark eyes remained touchingly eloquent, as open and candid as a child’s—or certain types of honest horses.

  Jaime closed her eyes and shook the ridiculous notion out of her thoughts, actually shook her head in emphasis. Then it was Eric’s turn to nudge her; he took the remote away and turned the sound back on.

  Jaime opened her eyes to a newsbreak featuring a John Doe story. The man had been found wandering Route 23 just north of Columbus; naked, incoherent and violent, he’d been apprehended and sedated, and the search for his identity was on. The newsreel footage showed a middle-aged man with flaming chestnut hair, interspersed with the grainy on-scene video of police officers rounding the man up. Conveniently blurred spots hiding the man’s genitals. The officers had had their work cut out for them, for the fellow was agile and fast, long-legged and apparently tireless—according to the report, it had taken an hour and a half to corner him in a drainage ditch.

  Jaime found her eyes unaccountably straying from the television to Jess, who sat completely lost in the story. In her mind’s eye she saw Jess and Silhouette, wheeling, romping, reveling in their exertions.

  “Is that Carey?” Eric asked abruptly. A glance at his expression showed that he, too, had made some sort of connection between Jess and John Doe.

  But Jess appeared startled at the thought. “No,” she said, and pointed to the screen. “Chestnut.”

  Jaime gave a short laugh. “She’s right about that, although most people would consider that guy’s hair to be an unusual shade of red. What color is Carey’s hair, Jess?”

  After a thoughtful moment, Jess shrugged. “Dayna,” she offered.

  “Sandy blond, like Dayna’s,” Eric decided.

  Jaime shook her head. “I’m not sure I need this, Eric. I wish Dayna could have dealt with it a little better.”

  “You know Dayna,” Eric said. “And this is really the perfect place for Jess to take a few days and sort herself out. Besides, I’m sure she’ll be a lot of help around the stable. Unless you have some doubts that she can handle the horses.”

  Jaime snorted. “Oh, she knows horses all right.” She watched Jess in silence for a moment; released from the conversation, Jess leaned forward, her finger touching the freeze-frame picture of John Doe. Her ill-fitting sweats tugged against her hips and revealed a generous area of lower back. Very lower back. Jaime stood up. “Once upon a time, I was hunting up some clothes for her.” Back into efficiency mode, she turned off the television and motioned for Jess to follow her upstairs.

  A change of clothing meant, of course, that Jess had to face zippers, but the sweatshirt pullover went on easily enough. The old denims were a little loose but stayed up without a belt. By then Eric had gone back to the telephone to finish his search for Carey—or Carey’s body—and could do no more without actually involving Jess with the police. And that, he told Jaime, he was still reluctant to do—not because they wouldn’t honestly try to help her, but because Jess’s claims would set them into helping from a different direction: fixing Jess rather than finding Carey.

  Jaime felt she had little choice—not to mention plenty of room in the rambling old farmhouse that had housed two generations of the Cabot family and now stood too quiet with only herself and her brother in occupancy. Jess, she said, could stay. She was short of stable help right now, anyway, and if she knew only one thing about Jess, it was that the woman understood horses. She even resigned herself to paying for a pair of shoes for the footloose Jess, not to mention some underwear—but that was before Eric hauled the saddle and saddlebags out of his car, and showed her the pouch of gold.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Chapter Three

  “I knew if I told Dayna about it, she’d insist on calling the police.” Eric tilted his hand to shift the pile of small square gold pieces. They were crudely stamped in runes that matched the lettering on the sealed document, and there were eleven of them.

  Jaime teased a coin off his hand to fall into her own, and held it to reflect the light from the window. “No doubt about that. But just because Carey had this gold, doesn’t mean he did anything wrong to get it.”

  “He had it and he was running,” Eric corrected. “Jess, you know anything about this stuff?”

  She hadn’t been paying much attention to them—she’d found her abandoned soda and seemed disappointed that she couldn’t coax bubbles out of it. Now she let it be and took the coin Jaime held out. She considered it a moment, and looked at the pouch that lay on the bar. “Carey,” she announced.

  Eric tipped his head at her. “You mean it belongs to Carey.”

  Jess nodded.

  Jaime looked at the sealed document in Eric’s hands. “And that doesn’t even give you a clue?”

  “Even if I could get it open, I think it’s written in some bizarre esoteric language.”

  “If you could get it ope
n?”

  He shrugged, sheepishness coming over his tightly drawn features. “This seal...I don’t know what it’s made of. I can’t break it. I tried just prying it off, but the paper—or whatever this stuff is—started to tear. I think if we force it, we’re going to destroy it. Maybe it needs some kind of solvent.”

  “How about open, sesame?” Jaime asked wryly. “But there’s no point in tearing the thing up. I’ve got to go into Columbus early next week—I’ll take a copy of the words on the front to the OSU language department. If there’s someone there who can translate, maybe we’ll try a little harder to open it.” She looked at Jess. “It would be so much easier if she could just tell us the whole story.” Abruptly, she held out the pouch, and Eric spilled the gold into it. She cinched the pouch closed with a gesture of finality, and took the remaining piece from Jess, holding it up between them. “I’ll wait a few more days, keep an eye on the papers. If nothing shows up, I’ll see about selling this. She’s got to have clothes, and some personal stuff.”

  “Selling it?” Eric repeated doubtfully. “Can you do that? Won’t they want to know what it is, and where it came from?”

  Jaime dismissed his concern. “All a gold trader cares about is how much it’s worth. If you’re really worried, five minutes and a propane torch would probably get rid of these weird letters. Course, I don’t know how this Carey guy is going to feel about us spending his money.”

  “He shouldn’t have left Jess alone,” Eric said defensively. “Sell the thing. Get her something really nice.”

  ~~~~~

  Jaime spent most of her days in the barn, where Jess happily cleaned stalls, fed, and took the horses to turn-out. She found Jess ever reluctant to speak, although she often caught the woman responding to the horses with some throaty nonverbal comment. Caught up in her own busy schedule, Jaime seldom had time to socialize with the reclusive newcomer, although she was careful to check the newspapers for any mention of a missing woman. She didn’t spend significant time with Jess until nearly a week had passed.

  With one of her best lesson horses scheduled for minor surgery in Columbus—an hour’s drive from the Dancing—Jaime grabbed at opportunity. She wanted a companion for the drive; Jess needed clothes. They dropped the horse off at the university clinic and Jaime made a quick stop at a gold dealer, then dragged Jess—almost literally—into a mall. She outfitted Jess with practical jeans and variety of men’s pullover shirts—a much better fit to her sturdy shoulders than the flimsier woman’s versions. It was nothing but utilitarian, and nothing more than what she needed. Choosing footwear turned out to be more of a problem when Jess revealed herself to be fussy about having her feet either handled or confined. Jaime finally convinced her to accept a pair of sneakers, although Jess scorned them once they left the mall. Jaime took a closer look at those tough soles and let her go barefoot as she pleased.

  They returned to the university an hour and a half before the surgical procedure was slated to finish. Jaime dropped off the hand-copied characters from saddlebag missive at the Language Department, and they walked the central oval of the vast campus, sightseeing amongst the stately older buildings. Or, rather, Jaime looked at the buildings and Jess reveled in the flat grassy area, jigging ahead, stopping now and then to watch the occasional bandanna-adorned, Frisbee-chasing dog.

  Then classes ended and the floodgates opened. Students rushed madly from here to there, intent on covering long distances in as little time as possible. Jess had lagged behind to stare at the massive statue of President William Oxley Thompson in front of the library; now she caught up to Jaime with such haste that she bumped into her.

  Startled, Jaime reached out to steady her, and discovered Jess wide-eyed, her head thrown back to regard the flow of students around them. She continued to walk almost on Jaime’s heels, and finally Jaime stopped, and took Jess’s shoulders in her hands. “It’s all right, Jess,” she said firmly. “In a few minutes they’ll be gone. They’re just students trying to get from one of these buildings to another. Do you understand?”

  “No,” Jess said in a small voice. Someone jostled her from behind and she flinched, one leg lifting sharply and then settling in some aborted movement.

  “They’ll be gone in a minute,” Jaime repeated. “See? Watch them. They came out of these buildings—and even now you can see that they’re all going back inside. Look at them.” The mass of moving bodies hadn’t yet decreased, but more of them now entered buildings than exited. “Have you ever been to school, Jess?”

  A quick nod stirred thick shaggy hair, but not without hesitation in her expression. Eventually she put her thoughts in to words. “Not like this.”

  Jaime nodded. “This is one of the largest schools in the country,” she said. “There are quite a few satellite campuses, too.” Then she looked from the finally thinning crowd to Jess’s blank expression and laughed out loud. “That didn’t mean a thing to you, did it?”

  A small shy grin. “No.”

  The students continued to part around them like water around a rock in the middle of a stream, but Jess had relaxed, returning her attention to the statue.

  “It wasn’t the crowd, was it?” Jaime asked in sudden insight. “It was the not understanding.”

  Jess’s gaze traveled back to hers, her expression a visual question mark.

  “Never mind,” Jaime said, certain enough that she’d been correct. “C’mon. Mirror Lake is just down this hill, and there’s usually someone nearby selling hot dogs.” She glanced at her watch to see that they’d have enough time to eat, and set off for the lake.

  It was a pond, really, so shallow you could see the bottom and man-made at that. But in the center rose a pleasant, simple fountain, and the trees and shrubs that circled the area separated it from the campus, making it into an oasis of peace.

  And just over the slight rise on the other side of the pond, Jaime could see the canopy of the hot dog vendor’s cart. “Good,” she said with satisfaction. She pointed out one of the benches by the edge of the pond, and said, “Wait here. I’ll get something for us to eat.”

  A nod confirmed agreement and Jaime left her, satisfied that Jess’s already apparent fascination with the fountain would keep her occupied.

  She bought two hot dogs and an extra bun so they could feed the few mallards that hung around the pond. But when she turned back, she almost dropped it all—for Jess stood in the middle of the shallow water, stepping carefully, reaching out to touch the cascading fountain. A visibly irate member of campus security waited at the edge of the pond; Jaime could hear his loud commands, but Jess was lost in the noise of the water. A particularly angry expression crossed the man’s face and he, too stepped into the water.

  “No, wait!” Jaime yelled, juggling hot dogs as she ran back to the pond. If the man heard her, he was too intent to pay any attention. He grabbed Jess from behind, firmly capturing her arms.

  Jaime abandoned the hot dogs and sprinted as Jess flew into motion, slamming her foot backwards into the man’s shin with amazing force; she twisted and flung herself around with struggles that only increased when they failed. She fell into the rising spray of the fountain and dragged the man with her, and they ended up tussling in the water.

  Jaime hit the cold pond without slowing down, pushing through two gawking students on her way. Awkward in the water, she barely stopped in time to keep from piling on top of the wrestling figures. “Jess!” she yelled above the noise of the struggle and the splash of the fountain. “No, Jess—whoa!”

  It didn’t have the magic of the last time she’d used it.

  “Calm her down before I hurt her!” the man bellowed, right before Jess’s heel connected with the side of his face. She slithered out of his weakened grasp and floundered through the water.

  Jaime knew that look: Jess was on the run again. She lunged directly into Jess’s path and flung her arms out wide, not grabbing for her, but making herself large and imposing.

  Jess stopped short; she snor
ted water out of her nose and tossed back the sodden mass of her hair.

  “Be easy, Jess,” Jaime murmured, not possibly loud enough to be heard over the fountain and the water running off the rising security man—but Jess seemed to respond to it anyway, despite her heaving breath and flared nostrils. She took another step, more deliberate, and put Jaime in between herself and the man, who glared at them both.

  “What the hell’s she on?” he demanded.

  “She’s not,” Jaime said, forcing calm. “She’s just frightened. She didn’t know you were there before you touched her.”

  “She deaf?” he asked gruffly, tempering his anger enough to let Jaime know he considered this a possibility.

  “No,” Jaime answered slowly, “but she’s new to a lot of things.” She reached out a careful arm to guide Jess toward the imitation shoreline, and the man took the opportunity to scowl away the spectators, most of whom were satisfied to wander off now that the action was over. When all three of them were out, dripping on the asphalt path that circled the pond, Jaime faced the man squarely and took a deep breath.

  “Jess is new to this country,” she said, deciding it to be the simplest explanation, as well as her best guess at the truth. “A lot of things are strange to her. She didn’t know she was breaking any rules, and she only reacted out of fear when you grabbed her.”

  “She had plenty of warning,” the man growled. “I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me.”

  “She didn’t hear you,” Jaime said desperately. That much was true, she was sure. When Jess was intent on something new, her whole world seemed to focus down on that object, and she’d more than once failed to respond to Jaime’s question or call. “You scared her. Of course she resisted—she thought you were attacking her.”

  Unmoved, the man said, “She shouldn’t have been in the water.”

  “She didn’t know,” Jaime repeated. The determined glint remained in his eye, and she knew Jess was moments away from being saddled with some serious charges. Abruptly she turned to Jess, moved back a step so the young woman stood not so much behind her as beside her. “Jess, why did you fight?”