Empress Unborn

Chapter Five

Aradia was deep in the dream of her unborn daughter. The girl opened her eyes.

“You stole my powers, witch!” Aradias mother accused. “Die, sorceress. Burn!”

Aradia was consumed in flames!

Searing pain! Her clothes burned, her hair-

Her flesh charred as she screamed-

Screamed-

“Lady Aradia! Wake up, my lady!”

“Help me!” Aradia begged, grasping at the person who had come to her aid. “She’s burning me! My child is trying to kill me!”

Slowly, she realized that she was clinging to Devasin, seeing fright in the woman’s eyes.

Gasping for breath, Aradia shook off the dream and loosened her painful grip on Devasin. “I’m sorry,”

she whispered. “It seemed so real.”

“It was only a dream, my lady,” Devasin soothed. “Lie back down now, and rest.”

“Oh, no,” said Aradia. “I have too much to do. Bring me my dress, Devasin.”

“Yes, my lady,” the other woman said primly, rising from where she had sat on the edge of the bed to comfort her mistress.

“Devasin,” Aradia said.

“Yes, my lady?”

“I am sorry to inflict the foolish fantasies of pregnancy on you.”

“It is quite all right, my lady,” Devasin replied. “I’m glad I was there to help.”

By the time she had dressed and smoothed her hair, Aradia could relegate the dream to the world of fantasy. But why had it seemed so real? Perhaps Master Clement would know a way to forestall it, let it remain the pleasant dream of her child, or at least let her wake up before it turned to nightmare.

Determined to tell him about it, she left for the hospital, to see if Pyrrhus was awake yet.

Julia could not run as fast as the boys or even Wicket.

Her breath burned in her lungs. Her legs ached.

The horses’ panic tore through her mind. Dust choked her lungs.

Galerio dropped back, gasping, “Run!” He grabbed her hand. She felt him trying to pour strength into her, but he hadn’t enough power.

For a few steps they went faster, nearly catching Mosca, Antonius, Wicket-but in moments the horses would run over them all.

Clutching Galerio’s hand, Julia was able to think again.

If only Wulfston were here!

He could make animals obey his will; he would calm those horses, or at least turn them aside.

Other Readers had found their Adept powers in moments of desperation-her father had, in order to save his people and Aradia.

Desperately she reached out to the lead horse, urged him to one side as the herd reached the fleeing people.

Galerio pushed her to the ground, flung himself on top of her, protecting her with his own body.

But Julia had it now! She sent images to the horses, directing their course.

The herd split, thundering on either side of the trembling, gasping people. Wicket fell, huddled into a ball.

Mosca and Antonius leaned on one another, breathless, as the horses galloped by.

And Julia sobbed against Galerio’s arm beneath her face as she realized.

“It’s not an Adept trick!” she gasped as, the horses safely past, Galerio drew her to sit up against him.

“Oh, Galerio-it’s Reading, and he never knew it! He wanted so much to learn to Read, and now maybe he’ll never know!”

Mosca and Antonius moved slowly, but Wicket jumped up and ran to where Julia and Galerio still sat on the ground. “Are you all right?” he asked anxiously.

Julia nodded.

“Then why are you crying? Who’ll never know about Reading?”

“Wulfston,” she replied. “My uncle. He-he went to rescue my father, weeks ago, and we haven’t heard from them since.” Julia got hold of herself, her tears abating as she continued, “Wulfston is a great Lord Adept, but he’s always wanted to learn to Read, ever since we found out they’re the same power. He never could-and yet he’s always had this power over animals.”

“Ah,” said Galerio, ” you made the horses go around us.”

She looked up into his eyes, her lips trembling into a smile as she asked, “Are you Reading now?”

“No-but how else would you make such a discovery in the middle of a stampede? Thank you, Julia.”

“Thanks, indeed!” Wicket added, squatting down beside them. “Now, what’s all this about your uncle going to rescue your father? From what?”

“Nobody knows!” Julia replied. “People from Africa kidnapped my father-and Aradia couldn’t go because she’s pregnant, so Wulfston went, and now they’re both gone!”

Galerio, who knew the story well, said, “They’ll come back. After all they’ve been through together, how much trouble could a few Africans be? A Reader and an Adept working together-why, they’ll be here any day now, with wonderful stories to tell.”

But Wicket was puzzled. “Brothers? One a Reader and the other an Adept?”

“No-Wulfston is Aradia’s brother,” Julia told him. “But we don’t worry whether kinship is by blood or marriage or adoption. We’re family.”

“Mm-hmm,” said Wicket. “Well, then-you say your uncle can Read, but doesn’t know it? That hardly seems likely.”

Julia couldn’t help laughing, although painfully. “No? Then why are you not aware of your own Adept powers?”

Wicket was squatting beside them, balanced precariously on his toes, but at Julia’s words he paled, lost his balance, and sat down, hard. “What?”

“I Read you restoring the items Mosca and Antonius stole. You think you’re just a skilled cutpurse, but you’re using Adept power when you make something land exactly where you want it. The pendant, and the man’s money pouch. You blanked to my Reading when you did those things.”

Wicket put up a casually denying hand. “Oh-that’s just a trick Pyrrhus taught me, to fool Readers.” He winced. “Never thought to ask him how he knew what’d fool ‘em. But it’s just a bunch of nonsense to distract attention.”

“No, Wicket, I don’t mean your songs and rhymes and riddles,” Julia told him. “I mean the moment when you want that necklace to fall exactly in the girl’s line of vision. Then the nonsense stops. To a Reader, you become invisible. A Dark Moon Reader would miss it, unless he were focused specifically on you, and until four years ago few Readers in the Aventine Empire would’ve known what that moment’s blankness meant.”

Wicket was staring at his hands. “No. I can’t.”

“You can and you do,” Julia assured him. “Well test your talents now, and teach you to use them most effectively.”

Wicket’s eyes fixed on hers, wariness in their depths. “No!” he said. “Lady Julia, you must be wrong-but even if you’re right, it doesn’t matter. I’m not an Adept!”

“Wicket,” said Galerio, “don’t act as if it’s something bad. You’re not in the old Aventine Empire-nobody will kill you for it. You don’t have to go to their training sessions and get lectured about using your talents for the public good. But-”

“I said no’t” Wicket interrupted him. “You shut up about it, all of you. It’s not so! And if any of you says anything to Pyrrhus-well, you can just forget me helping you get out of your problems with Capero!”

With that, Wicket got up, made a futile attempt to-brush the dust from his clothes, and started toward the road back to Zendi.

The four young people stared after him. “Never saw anyone act like that when he found out he had a talent,” said Antonius.

“I think I understand,” said Julia, aware of people from the horse market running to see if they were hurt.

She climbed to her feet saying, “Let him go. And do as he says. Don’t tell anyone, not even your closest friends.”

At the hospital, Aradia was not surprised to find Pyrrhus awake, although she had not expected him to be up and dressed. The door was open, and she could see him standing by the bed, his attention on items laid out on it.

The plate on the bedside table was empty except for apple cores and the skeleton of a bunch of grapes.

Pyrrhus wore the same clothes in which he had been injured, which Aradia had paid no attention to at the time. Now she noticed that although his accent, short hair, and beardlessness showed his Aventine origins, Pyrrhus chose to dress in the savage style.

Wicket had called his friend “skinny.” Actually he was thin and wiry, and his dark gray clothing did nothing to make him appear larger. It was plain in cut, linen and wool of the highest quality, with fine black leather boots suited for riding but looking soft and comfortable enough for walking.

His tabard was wool, its only decoration a single line of discreet silver embroidery across the top.

Wondering if Pyrrhus should be on his feet, Aradia started to Read his physical condition as she neared the doorway-and Pyrrhus snatched his sword from the scabbard on the bed, whirled, and faced her with weapon at ready!

Aradia’s throat constricted at the idea of a Reader at the mercy of his physical senses; how painful it must be to have someone sneak up on him. She had not meant to; with her advancing pregnancy she was simply most comfortable in soft slippers that made no sound on the marble floors.

When he saw who it was, Pyrrhus saluted her with the weapon. “Lady Aradia. Come to see that I do not escape?”

“Not without a proper meal,” she replied, sending a mental call to the hospital kitchen. “Actually, I did not expect to find you awake.”

“Obviously neither did Wicket,” he said, replacing his sword in its scabbard. “Or has he gone?”

“Gone?”

“He does have all our money,” said Pyrrhus.

“Don’t you trust him?” Aradia asked.

“More than I ought to, I expect.” Leaving the sword on the bed, Pyrrhus put on a black leather belt with a square silver buckle and plain silver decoration along its length. Aradia noted that he had to buckle it two notches tighter than where the worn place in the leather indicated it was usually fastened.

“You need a few good meals under that belt,” said Aradia.

“Why should you be concerned about my health?” he challenged. “I’m a stranger to you.”

“The child you saved was a stranger to you,” she countered.

Instead of answering, he turned and began plucking items off the bed and stowing them about his person.

Aradia sat down in a chair, bemused, to watch a dagger disappear into his left boot, a larger knife that she suspected was weighted for throwing into his right. What appeared to be a plain white linen kerchief did not move with normal lightness; it was obviously weighted with lead. Pyrrhus folded it to look quite ordinary, and tucked it into his tabard.

He put on leather bracelets, the kind gladiators wore to protect and support the vulnerable wristbones, but when he bent his hands forward as far as they would go, sharp blades sprang from them, across the backs of his hands. With a tight-lipped smile of satisfaction, he touched hidden catches, and the blades slid out of sight again.

But that was not all. Aradia’s amusement grew as she wondered whether the razor he tucked into his tabard, where there must be hidden pockets, was the same one he used on his face, or whether this one was merely another weapon. The man was a walking arsenal!

Several bodkins, of varying sizes, also went inside the tabard, along with braided leather thongs, a sling, a burning glass, a lodestone, and some objects whose purpose Aradia could not guess. Finally, Pyrrhus clipped another dagger, quite visibly, to his belt. All that was left on the bed was a bow, a quiver of arrows, and his sword.

For all the paraphernalia, no bulges showed in his outfit, nor did Pyrrhus move as if weighted down. He looked over at Aradia, tilting his head.to one side as if waiting for her to comment, and sat down on the bed.

She grinned at him. “Just what army do you expect to face single-handed?”

“Yours, possibly,” he retorted.

The attendant arrived with Pyrrhus’ meal. He glanced at Aradia, but accepted the tray and began to eat.

She noticed that, like Lenardo, despite his hunger he ate little meat.

Readers kept to a vegetarian diet, saying meat dulled their powers. Aradia often argued with Lenardo, insisting that he could improve his Adept powers if only he would eat more meat. He would counter that if she ate less, she would be a better Reader.

But no diet would enable Pyrrhus to Read again. Probably, like most people, he simply preferred foods he had grown up on. Aradia took the opportunity while Pyrrhus was eating to study him without enduring that piercing gaze.

Now that his burns had healed, his coloring was back to normal. Aradia noted that his eyes seemed darker than they actually were because his skin was very fair. Even sun-darkened, it was lighter than Lenardo’s olive tones, and the brown of his hair was in the medium range, not the dark brown to black more usual among Aventines. His eyelashes were long and thick, but lighter than his hair, the contrast with the brown eyes increasing the impression that they were mysteriously dark and deep.

Pyrrhus finished eating, set the tray on the bedside table, and took the wool of his tabard between thumb and forefinger. “How did you get the oil out of my clothing without ruining it?”

“Adept talents are useful for many purposes,” she replied.

He pondered that, then shrugged. “Why not? But you are not here to discuss laundry. Perhaps you haven’t noticed: I still can’t Read.”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked at the abrupt turn of subject.

“Isn’t it a little late for that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come now,” he said coldly, his eyes pinning her, “you won’t claim you resisted poking around in my head while you had me at your mercy?”

“No, I won’t,” she said flatly, and saw a flicker of surprise on his face. “We will not lie to you, Pyrrhus.”

“Perhaps. But you won’t respect my privacy, either.”

“It was not a breach of healer’s ethics,” she said. “But then you must know that-it is the same for Readers as for Adepts. You were my patient. If, in treating your burns, I had discovered some other problem, such as a tumorous growth, you would have expected me to remove it. Didn’t you learn the same thing when you studied at Gaeta?’

Gaeta was the huge hospital where all Readers of the upper ranks in the Aventine Empire were once sent to learn the rough medical techniques which were all they could practice without Adept powers. Herbs and potions, bonesetting by force, amputating limbs as had been done to Decius, actually cutting into people’s bodies.

But even with those primitive methods they had healed many people. And now that Readers and Adepts were working together, there was almost no condition that could not be cured at Gaeta. -

Except Pyrrhus’ condition.

The man’s composure slipped enough to allow a brief puzzled frown. “I did not know that you had studied there.”

“I didn’t, but my husband did,” she replied. “He is a Master Reader.”

“Oh, yes-Lenardo the Traitor.”

“So Portia and her cohorts called him,” Aradia struck back.

She hit her target. “Very well,” said Pyrrhus. “Tell me what you found inside my head.”

There was no way to put it gently. “We cannot restore your Reading powers. Nervous tissue has been destroyed, something even a Lord Adept cannot heal.”

He did not blink, although she knew that she must have crushed the last hope, however denied, buried in his heart. “Thank you for telling me the truth,” he said finally.

“You do believe me?” she felt compelled to ask.

“Oh, yes,” he replied, cynicism returning to his tone. “If you lied to me, Master Clement would contradict you. That is his greatest weakness: he is a completely honest man.” He frowned again. “Physical damage?

Done by Readers?”

“Portia had an Adept working with her.”

At his suddenly feral expression she quickly added, “We know who he was, and he is dead.”

“That,” said Pyrrhus, “is unfortunate. Although it is fortunate for him.”

Aradia was about to try to turn the discussion to similar criminals in Zendi when Master Clement arrived.

“Aradia, Julia is unharmed,” he began.

“Unharmed? What harm threatened her?” Aradia demanded, getting to her feet.

“No-there is no need for you to go,” the Reader told her. “There are Readers and Adepts on the scene.”

” What scene?” Aradia exclaimed in frustration.

“Julia was at the horse market.”

“Yes. She had my permission.” Aradia had decided that allowing Julia time with Galerio and his gang might lessen the appeal of something forbidden.

“A fire stampeded the horses,” said Master Clement. “No one was killed, and all injuries were minor.

Julia and her friends are helping to round up the horses.” He allowed Aradia to Read the scene with him, to see that, indeed, all was under control.

But- “Fire? Stampede? Master Clement, is this another-?”

When the old Reader did not immediately answer, Pyrrhus asked, “Another what?” When he didn’t get a reply, he suggested, “Another unexpected event like a whirlwind in the middle of a city on a perfectly calm day?”

That got their attention. “What do you know about it?” Aradia asked.

He shrugged. “It sounds like the Adept harassment we got when I was a boy at the Academy. Adigia was on the border, and sometimes the savages would try to drive people out of the area by sending storms to ruin crops, or starting fires to destroy villages.”

Master Clement nodded. “These events appear similar. There were other whirlwinds at the same time as the one in Zendi. Yesterday a hailstorm destroyed some crops. Today the horse market was disrupted.

Thus far, our Readers have been unable to trace the source.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you,” Pyrrhus said with his well-practiced insincere smile.

Master Clement looked at Aradia. “You told him?”

“He asked.”

“Yes, of course he would.” He turned to the man on the bed. “Pyrrhus, it is best you know the truth.

However, you should know the whole truth.”

Pyrrhus was lounging in a deliberately casual pose, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. If Sistena saw his boots on her clean bedding, Aradia thought, she’d tongue-lash him out of such casualness.

But, head tilted curiously, Pyrrhus was asking, “What more is there to know? The nerves are burnt out. I will never be able to Read again.”

“You have not lost all your powers.”

“Oh, yes,” Pyrrhus replied acidly, “I can still send thoughts with a Reader’s power. I did so in the rapport that killed Portia. I suppose you could use me as a transmitter of messages to other Readers-but what good does that do me?‘t”

Master Clement gestured toward the weapons on the bed at Pyrrhus’ feet. “Readers make the best swordsmen,” he said. “Wicket says you are the best swordsman he’s ever seen.”

“Wicket is a fool,” sneered Pyrrhus.

“You are still alive,” Master Clement countered. “Pyrrhus…”

At the tone of the old man’s voice, Pyrrhus relented. “You’re right,” he said. “When I realized that I could not Read at all, I was afraid I could no longer fight- that I wouldn’t survive to take revenge. But the first time I had to use my sword I was caught by surprise, and reacted instinctively. When it was over, I realized I had lost none of that skill.”

Master Clement nodded. “That is consistent with what we found. Portia destroyed the nerve center for analyzing and interpretation what you Read. You are still Reading, Pyrrhus-but what you Read no longer reaches your conscious mind.”

Pyrrhus shrugged. “It’s all the same to me.”

“No, it’s not” said Master Clement. “You don’t think and analyze when you’re fighting. What you Read goes straight into action.”

“What’s that?” came Wicket’s voice from the doorway. “There’s actually something Pyrrhus doesn’t analyze to death?” As he stepped forward, all of them stared, for Wicket was covered with dirt and grime.

At their looks, he gave a sheepish grin. “I was afraid

Pyrrhus might be awake already, so I hurried on over here. An’ I was right, wasn’t I?” he added brightly.

“Where’ve you been?” Pyrrhus demanded impatiently.

“The horse market. There was a fire, and then-”

“Oh, that,” Pyrrhus said in bored tones. “We’ve heard all about it already.” He gave one of his arctic smiles. “Isn’t it convenient to have friends who are Readers?” Having effectively stopped the conversation, Pyrrhus savored the moment’s silence before asking Wicket, “What were you doing at the horse market?”

“Thought we might need horses, didn’t I? Thought you might want to leave.”

” Did you?’ Pyrrhus began dangerously, but Master Clement stepped in before he could continue.

“Pyrrhus, don’t leave without discovering the extent of your remaining powers. Let us treat you at the Academy.”

“My Academy days are long over, Clement,” Pyrrhus replied.

“Then come and stay at my villa,” said Aradia. “Both of you are welcome, and there is certainly plenty of room.” In fact, more than half the rooms were empty, and would remain so until Lilith arrived with her entourage.

Wicket was watching Pyrrhus closely, and jumped in before Pyrrhus could refuse. “The royal residence!

Think of it, Pyrrhus. When are we ever gonna live in the lap of luxury?”

Pyrrhus glanced at Wicket with tolerant amusement. “You didn’t buy any horses?”

“Nah-they closed down the market on me.”

“You realize you’ll have to take a bath before you can set foot in Lady Aradia’s home?” Pyrrhus teased him.

“What-two baths in the same day?” Wicket replied as if the thought pained him.

“That’s the condition for sitting in the lap of luxury,” Pyrrhus explained.

Because Wicket looked genuinely torn by the decision, Aradia laughed, and waved her hand toward him.

The gesture was theatrical effect, of course-Adept power pulled the grime out of his clothes and onhis skin and hair, leaving him cleaner than when he had left the baths earlier, since he was still wearing yesterday’s clothes.

Wicket stared down at his sparkling clothing, and delicately stepped out of the circle of dirt that had fallen at his feet. Then he grinned at Pyrrhus. “Isn’t it convenient,” he asked conversationally, “to have friends who are Adepts?”

When Julia got home, she found she didn’t have to Read for Wicket: Aradia had invited him and Pyrrhus to stay at the villa.

It was all she could do to get through the evening meal, worrying about Galerio. He had to face Capero with Mosca and Antonius tonight if their scheme was to work. If he didn’t convince the gambler that it was worth his while to try to snare Galerio, all three young men would have their throats slit.

After dinner, Julia sat in the luxurious parlor, trying to follow the conversation between Aradia, Master Clement, Pyrrhus, and Wicket. Ordinarily, she would have been fascinated. Tonight she was only worried.

Finally, though, a servant brought her a message, scribbled in Galerio’s almost indecipherable hand:

“Tomorrow, one hour after sunset.”

She saw Wicket notice, but his attention went immediately back to the conversation.

Aradia also noticed. “Julia, you are not going out tonight.”

“No, Aradia, I had no intention to,” she replied.

Aradia did not ask what the message was.

That trust made Julia want to tell Aradia. But she knew better. Her stepmother would feel compelled to stop it, but if she stopped Capero from harming Mosca and Antonius now, he would find another way to take revenge.

And Galerio would never forgive Julia if she brought Aradia into it.

No, it was best for Aradia never to find out at all.

When Julia got up to go to bed at her usual time, Wicket said, “I’m tired. I think I’ll get some sleep, too.

Good night, everyone.”

Pyrrhus eyed his friend. “I’ve done nothing but sleep for the past two days. Will you leave me to the tender mercies of these two?” he asked, indicating Aradia and Master Clement.

“Aww, I don’t think they’re gonna cook you up for breakfast,” Wicket replied. “Maybe after breakfast, though,” he added, referring to Pyrrhus’ reluctant agreement to let Master Clement test him in the morning. “But I gotta put up with you afterward. Better get my rest, Pyrrhus.”

As Julia suspected, Wicket wanted to talk with her. He and Pyrrhus had been given rooms on the other side of the courtyard from the family suite. “Where is it safe to talk?” he asked. “Or is there anyplace?

The old man-”

“You mean Master Clement? Wicket, he would not spy on us! And we’re not being watched. Entryways, the treasury-those are guarded at all times by both Adepts and Readers. But don’t fear being Read inside the villa, especially not in any private rooms.”

“That’s a relief!” he replied.

“You grew up in the Aventine Empire-you must know that the Reader’s Oath protects the privacy of nonReaders.”

“Never had much to do with Readers, did I?” he replied. “Least never knew I did.”

Julia took him to her room, where she gave him her small supply of money. “That won’t be enough to make you look like a rich merchant,” she said.

“I’ll claim I’ve been spending in anticipation of a large sum. This will do. But there’s another problem: I need proper clothes for the part.”

He was right. His plain tan shirt and hose and multicolored tabard were nothing like what a wealthy Aventine merchant would wear.

Fortunately, Aventine styles were loose, not like the savage clothing that had to be fitted to the person wearing it to look right.

Julia said, “Aradia is still in the parlor, and Master Clement hasn’t left yet. We have time. Come on.”

“What happened to your Reader’s Oath?” asked Wicket.

“All I did was check that they’re still in a public room,” said Julia.“Come on-and be quiet. Devasin will be in the anteroom leading to the corridor.”

She took Wicket out the low-silled window into the courtyard, and into Lenardo and Aradia’s room, where her father’s clothes were kept ready in his chest. His red Master Reader’s cloak lay on top, with several white, black-edged tunics beneath it. Once those were lifted out, though, there was a mixture of Aventine and savage-style clothing, all in the finest materials, much of it sumptuously embroidered.

Julia pulled out a yellow tunic with gold embroidery, a belt of gold velvet strands with bits of gold glittering in it, and a cloak of the same dark gold color as the belt.

Wicket nodded, but reached for another cloak, shiny green satin with gold embroidery on the edges.

Julia shook her head; that cloak went over a plain green tunic, and even so Lenardo thought it too gaudy.

Over the yellow tunic…

But Wicket was nodding vigorously, so Julia shrugged, and carefully repacked everything else into the chest.

When they were back in her room, Julia protested, “There’s too much glitter with both the tunic and cloak, and the different colors-”

“-are exactly what a man would wear who’s got rich by his own wits,” Wicket explained, holding the tunic up in front of him. “Hmm. Yer father’s a tall ‘un, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is. You’ll have to belt it up, and let the cloak fall in long loops. Oh-what about shoes?”

“I’ve got some sandals with me. I’ll shine ‘em up tonight. Thanks, Julia. These will do just fine.” He went to the door, opened it a crack, and peered out cautiously.

“Wicket,” said Julia, “there is no one in the passageway.”

He turned, flashed her a grin, and was gone.

A little after midnight, Julia was awakened by terrified screams from the next room.

Throwing on her robe, she dashed into the hall, Reading nothing to cause Aradia to scream so.

In fact, she could not remember ever hearing Aradia scream, could imagine only one thing that might bring on such a reaction: Lenardo’s death.

Heart pounding, Julia tore through the anteroom. The door to Aradia’s room was open, and Devasin knelt on the edge of Aradia’s bed, trying to touch the sleeping woman’s forehead to waken her. Aradia was tossing in agony.

“Wake up, my lady!” Devasin pleaded. “It’s only a dream!”

“She’s killing me!” Aradia shouted. “Help me! Lenardo, help me!”

Devasin grasped Aradia’s shoulders, and Julia pressed her fingers firmly to Aradia’s forehead, the only safe way to waken an Adept. The violet eyes opened, glazed. “She’s killing me!” Aradia sobbed. “My baby is trying to kill me!”

Julia drew back in horror, but Devasin took Aradia into her arms like a mother comforting a child. “

Twas only a dream, my lady. Your baby is well.” She glanced over Aradia’s shoulder at Julia, who took the cue to Read the fetus. Everything was normal; the child in Aradia’s womb slept peacefully despite her mother’s nightmare.

“The baby is fine, Aradia,” Julia said.

“She’s stealing my powers!” Aradia said.

“No, they’re just weakened by pregnancy,” Julia assured her, trying to hide her distress at seeing the strong, steady Aradia reduced to quivering terror. With Lenardo and Wulfston gone, who would protect Zendi?

But she joined her efforts to Devasin’s, then encouraged Aradia to Read the baby with her, to see it developing normally and sleeping peacefully. Finally, between them, Julia and Devasin got Aradia calmed and back to sleep.

When they left Aradia’s room, Julia asked Devasin, “Has this happened before?”

“Just once,” Devasin replied. But Julia Read worry in Devasin that went beyond concern over a few nightmares.

“There’s more to it than that,” said Julia. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know if…”

“Would you tell my father?”

“He already knows.”

“But he isn’t here, Devasin. So I have to help Aradia for him. If I don’t have all the facts, how can I help her?”

“Oh, young mistress, I don’t know if anyone can help her! It’s happening all over again, just as it did with her mother-and nothing Nerius could do would save her!”

Nerius, Aradia’s father. And the mother who was never mentioned.

“Tell me,” said Julia.

“I was a child,” said Devasin. “My mother was Tarina’s maid. “

“Tarina?”

“Aradia’s mother. Afterward, Nerius would not allow her name to be spoken. He loved her very much-as your father loves Aradia. They risked their powers to have a child. Nerius recovered, but Tarina had a difficult pregnancy even with his help. As her powers waned, she became more and more demanding, more angry at the child.

“But then Aradia was born, such a beautiful little girl. Everyone thought Tarina would recover, and love the child.

“Only… Tarinas Adept powers did not return. Months passed, and she became more and more distraught. She imagined that Aradia showed Adept talent. A baby less than a year old! Tarina started saying Aradia had stolen her powers.

“Nerius tried to help Tarina, but she became more and more hysterical. My mother stayed with her constantly, because Tarina would fly into rages and threaten to… take back the powers Aradia had stolen, was the way she put it.

“Finally, Nerius would not allow Tarina to see Aradia unless he was there. And when Aradia was two, she really did start to show Adept powers.”

“At two years old!”

“Yes. Nerius was delighted-but it set Tarina off worse than ever. I remember her rage, and my mother trying to calm her. Aradia was walking by then, but a closed door kept her in her nursery because she could not reach the latch. Then one day, when she had been left napping, she found that she could unlatch the door with Adept power, and went exploring… into Tarina’s room. I was there, with my mother and Tarina. Mother was teaching me embroidery. The door opened.

“Tarina’s chair faced the door. When she saw the child, she snatched up a heavy candlestick to set the girl on fire. The flame blew out, though, so she tried to crush Aradia’s skull with the base.

“My mother grasped her arm to stop her-and Tarina hit my mother instead.

“I screamed. Tarina picked up the bloody candlestick and went for Aradia again, shouting that she would kill her and take her powers back.

“By this time Aradia was screaming and crying. I don’t know how Mother remained conscious, but when I tried to help her, she said, ‘Save the baby!’ and I turned to try.

“Tarina lifted the candlestick to crush Aradia. When I tried to pick up the child, Tarina hit my shoulder, knocking me aside, and was about to swing at Aradia when the candle lit again. That was Aradia.

“Tarina screamed, swung-and the candlestick exploded in her hand.

“That was Nerius, running to see what all the noise was.

“Tarina shouted. ‘You want her! You don’t want me!’ and ran out of the room.

“Nerius picked up Aradia, made sure she was all right, then came over and healed Mother. Then he healed my shoulder. And all that time, no one thought of Tarina. None of us will ever know whether Nerius knew what she was doing. She ran to the end of the hall, took a knife from the display, and plunged it into her heart. Tarina died by her own hand.”

A tear trickled down Devasin’s cheek. “And now Aradia dreams she is like her mother. May they be only dreams! She never says such things when she is awake. But the dreams frighten me, Julia-almost as much as they frighten Aradia.”

The next day, Aradia seemed normal. Julia was back to her lessons, with Aradia and Decius in the morning, Master Clement in the afternoon. In the days between lessons, Decius had been practicing harmless Adept tricks, and had learned to move small objects. “The only trouble is,” he explained with a laugh, “moving a stylus from one side of my writing table to the other sent me to sleep for an hour. It’s much simpler just to pick it up by hand!”

“You’ll learn not to expend extra energy,” said Aradia. “That is excellent progress, Decius.”

Knowing that she must go out tonight, at a time Aradia would not approve, Julia was on her best behavior. She tried to duplicate Decius’ tricks, to no avail. However, she did not allow frustration to upset her today, although she was glad when Aradia took Decius off to the hospital to start teaching him to heal.

Wicket appeared at the noonday meal, and murmured to Julia, “Contact made. All set.”

Pyrrhus raised an eyebrow to see his friend sharing a secret with Julia, but for once made no snide comment. He looked exhausted, and Julia wondered fleetingly what Master Clement had put him through.

Then it was Julia’s problem to hide her excitement over the evening’s plans from Master Clement when she joined him in the Academy library.

It was not difficult to hide her thoughts, however, when the Master of Masters said, “I have found the records we’ve been looking for,” and held out a scroll to her. This one was new, still supple, but Julia Read without unrolling it. And without touching it. She did not want to feel the essence of Portia in those last days of power-madness. What the woman had written was poisonous enough.

The technique used on Pyrrhus was an experiment- one Portia deemed highly successful. The only reason it was not repeated was that the Adept she had used left Tiberium. If he had returned, or if she had been able to find another who could do the job, Portia would have crippled others.

When she had Read it, Julia asked, “Do you think Pyrrhus will feel any better knowing he is the only Reader they did that to?”

Master Clement replied, “I don’t know. Possibly there are some acts that cannot be forgiven. I never believed that, but now I wonder. How could Pyrrhus possibly forgive Portia? Could I, if she had done that to me? But if Pyrrhus cannot forgive, he cannot heal.”

There are some acts that cannot be forgiven. Julia understood why Aradia’s father might have allowed his wife to die after she tried to kill their daughter.

Should she tell Master Clement about Aradia’s dreams? No, she should urge Aradia to tell him. It was what Aradia would urge on Julia were their situations reversed.

Master Clement was piling scrolls on the desk. “Julia, take these home with you, and read them in the order in which they were written. Seeing how Portia changed over the years may help you understand her, as it has helped me.”

Julia only nodded and gathered up the scrolls. Her thoughts were on how to get away to join Galerio an hour after sunset.

As it turned out, Aradia and Pyrrhus had an appointment with Master Clement after the evening meal.

Julia could not help wondering whether Master Clement wanted Aradia there to discuss what purpose Pyrrhus might serve in the Savage Empire, or if he wanted an Adept for protection. Julia found Pyrrhus’

habit of constantly shielding his thoughts eerie, and wondered if it also disturbed the Master of Masters.

She spent some time with the early scrolls her teacher had picked out of Portia’s collection, Reading Portia’s growing frustration at how little influence Readers had on Aventine politics. The Emperor at that time was Portia’s brother, and it galled her that the very fact that she was family caused him to give her advice little credence.

Julia was far in the past when a sharp “Psst!” broke her concentration with a start. Wicket was at her window, dressed in the clothes she had borrowed for him. It was dark, “Aren’t you ready?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she replied, lighting a candle. She had changed into a cheap but gaudy orange dress belonging to one of the maids. Now she threw her plain blue mantle over it, and she and Wicket #ent out by the servants’ entrance. There would undoubtedly be gossip tomorrow that Marilys had been Read slipping out with Wicket. Julia hoped that her skills were sufficient to make Torus, who guarded the door, accept the surface impression of Marilys.

Once outside, Julia went straight ahead to meet Galerio, Reading to make sure there were no spies on Wicket. He took one of the circular streets to the east, then turned and approached Capero’s house as if coming from one of the elegant inns in that area.

Capero knew who Julia was, but the rest of the gamers were not supposed to. The gaming room was crowded, but the lighting “was concentrated over the tables, leaving the players in subdued light.

Gambling was legal; some people simply did not want to be identified-especially those responsible for other people’s money. Julia was unsurprised to Read no Readers there other than Capero’s Reader and herself. If his patrons found out Julia was there, they would never trust him again, and his business was built on their trust. Julia swallowed as she realized how important it must be to him to get Galerio into his power.

Capero was a minor Adept, of course, as Julia had to search for him visually. She was open to Reading, but not concentrating, lest Capero’s Reader spot her. She wasn’t sure if the woman knew that she was a Reader, or who she was.

Galerio put his arm around Julia as they threaded through the crowded room, Mosca and Antonius in their wake. They had agreed with Wicket to play the coin toss first, while he gambled at cards. All would then move on to the dice table. It would appear they were in the same game by chance.

Capero was a tall, balding man with a thick brown beard liberally sprinkled with white. He was dressed in understated elegance in brown velvet with satin embroidery that glowed softly, an occasional gold thread glinting here and there. The effect, though, was spoiled by his hands, where every finger carried at least one ring, solid gold or silver with huge, gaudy stones.

The owner moved through his establishment, quietly greeting patrons, occasionally glancing toward his Reader, a faded blond woman who sat at the back of the room. She was a Dark Moon Reader, ostensibly in the employ of the city, supposedly there to see that there was no cheating by either the house or the customers. Galerio said the house paid her far better than the city, though, so she quietly ignored subtle techniques that gave the house a higher percentage than allowed by law, at least as long as the extra percentage did not get so high that customers began to complain.

Capero watched Galerio play two tosses, both of which he won. “Good,” said the big man. “But why play a boy’s game? The stakes are too low here to make it worth your bother.”

Julia stopped Reading for a moment to shed uneasiness. Wicket wasn’t even here yet.

“I like this game,” Galerio replied casually. “It takes a certain degree of skill. You didn’t specify that I had to play any certain game, only that I had to win. I don’t care if that takes all night.”

Capero laughed cheerfully. “Be careful you don’t die of boredom!” he warned.

Wicket came in, went to the card table without making any effort to locate Julia or Galerio-a real pro.

He appeared just slightly inebriated, and cheerfully accepted a flagon of ale as he settled into the game.

The barmaid whispered to the dealer as she passed, “That’s the one. Let him win tonight.”

They continued with their plan as Capero played into their hands. By the standards of this establishment, the sums Mosca and Antonius owed were small. Within an hour, Wicket had won almost half that much at the card table, while Galerio won more than he lost at the coin toss. Still, it was obvious he could not win enough at that game even if he did play all night, so he picked up his money and moved to the dice table.

Wicket remained where he was. It would be too obvious for him to move at the same time Galerio did.

Besides, they had to give Capero time to cheat Galerio’s stake and winnings away from him.

But as soon as the dice came around to Galerio for the first time, he threw a winning number. Julia was Reading; he had not used Adept power. Neither did Capero nor any of his men for the moment, letting chance have its way-perhaps until Galerio accepted the honesty of the game.

The surest way to fool a Reader was to have a number of minor Adepts about, posing as gamers, taking turns influencing the dice. It would be almost impossible for a Dark Moon Reader to detect, but Julia could Read the whole room at once. Perhaps Capero thought she was too young to do so.

Galerio threw another winning number before he lost control of the dice, then bet a small portion of his winnings on other players. Again, he won more than he lost, although his winnings did not pile up as Wicket’s were doing.

Julia was beginning to worry about the time; the later she stayed away, the greater the chance that she would be missed. Capero should be making Galerio lose by now, but he wasn’t losing, and Julia could detect no sign of Adept influence-no one going suddenly blank to Reading-anywhere in the room.

She started to Read more carefully-

“Reader! Spy!”

The Dark Moon Reader leaped up. She climbed up on her chair, pointing over the heads of the gamblers, shrieking like a harpy. “Look! Lenardo’s daughter! They’ve sent her in to spy on all of you, find out who’s gambling, who’s winning! Who’s here, who’s with them!”

Suddenly all eyes were on Julia. Some people gathered their money and began edging toward the doors.

“She’s already Read you!” Capero shouted.

“If she escapes,” said another man, whom Julia recognized as Tinius, money-changer and userer, “Aradia and Clement will know all that she learned here tonight.”

“No!” Julia shouted, climbing on a chair herself despite Galerio’s efforts to stop her. “I am not here as a spy, but just as a Reader protecting a friend. Capero agreed-

Capero drowned her words with a loud guffaw. “Is that likely?” he demanded. “Allow the like of her to spy on my good customers?”

There were, of course, no other Readers there. A woman shouted, “Kill her! Show Aradia what we think of her spying on us!” Julia recognized Octavia, who ran the largest brothel in Zendi. Tinius, Octavia-as well as all the rich merchants crowded in here tonight? Galerio had been set up all right-but to get at Julia! To discredit the Readers, who had disrupted their cheating and confidence games ever since Lenardo and Aradia had brought hundreds of them to the city.

Until this moment, Julia hadn’t been afraid. Now, alone, she faced dozens of people who hated her-some of them with Adept powers! “Help!” she sent out to any nearby Reader. “Capero’s establishment! They want to kill me!”

Galerio kicked over the dice table, Mosca and Antonius adding their efforts.

Julia jumped down from her perch, Reading that the three young men would clear a path for her to the door, Reading Wicket draw a knife, pretending to join the attackers but actually elbowing and tripping people trying to close off their escape route.

Galerio, Mosca, and Antonius also had knives drawn, but they faced swords, clubs.

Knives flickered through the air!

Mosca went down with a yelp as a knife lodged in his shoulder, then a horrifying gasp when a man ran his sword through him.

Antonius tackled a woman in their way, knocked her against a man trying to skewer Julia with his sword, and fell, head crushed by another man’s club.

Galerio plunged ahead, using his small Adept skill to stay the hands of those who would slash or strike.

They could see Wicket now, bumbling about as if very drunk and very angry, actually clearing a space near the door.

Still broadcasting her call for help, Julia followed in Galerio’s wake, Reading behind them.

Capero held a spear!

“Galerio!” Julia shouted, grasping his arm to pull him down as the weapon flew at them.

He came around instead of down-and the spear dipped in its flight, Capero’s Adept power keeping it aimed at Julia! It was about to impale her.

Galerio flung himself at the spear, trying to grasp it out of the air.

Julia Read his utter exhaustion. The last of his small Adept power was not enough.

The spear pierced his heart, and he fell across her, dead.