Savage Empire

Chapter Three Aradia

When Aradia had gone, Lenardo paced the room, anger burning up his small reserve of energy until he quickly reached exhaustion. Collapsing onto the bed once more, he fell into heavy sleep.

He woke again when someone entered the room- Wulfston. The black man brought him tunic, robe, and soft woolen slippers, which Lenardo donned gratefully. "The tailor is taking your measurements from the garments you arrived in," Wulfston explained. "By the time you are strong enough to leave this room, you will have suitable clothes."

"Thank you," said Lenardo, quelling his anger. Wulfston, after all, was merely Aradia's servant-perhaps her property. That might be the meaning of the wolf's-head pendant. "I feel strong enough to leave right now."

"I know," the black man replied. "You are not ill; all the poisons are gone from your body. But the cleansing power to drive them out came from every cell of your being; it will take days of eating and sleeping to replenish those reserves. You do not realize how weak you are. Are you hungry?"

Lenardo was startled to find that he was, although only three hours had passed since his last meal. "You're right about my needing more food than usual."

Wulfston smiled, then closed his eyes for a moment, frowning slightly. "There. Your food will be brought up."

"What did you do?"

"I rang the bell in the kitchen. Now your food will arrive piping hot."

"But… I thought an Adept had to see an object to affect it."

"Oh, but I have seen that bell, many times," Wulfston replied. "As long as I know exactly where it is, I can control it."

Of course. That was how Aradia had healed Lenardo's broken rib, and how Galen could provide directions to the attacking savages.

"You are Aradia's apprentice," said Lenardo. "She is your teacher?"

"Indeed, as her father was, until…" The man's eyes grew sad, and even without being able to Read the Adept, Lenardo again caught an emotion, this time a frustrated grief when Wulfston spoke of Aradia's father.

"You cannot be much younger than Aradia."

"Five years. However, I remain as her apprentice because she is the most powerful Adept I have ever seen, except her father. I still have much to learn from her."

Lenardo fingered the pendant about his neck, looking at the one Wulfston wore. "Could you leave her if you wanted to?" he asked. "Are you not her property?"

"Certainly not!" Wulfston replied indignantly. "I am Aradia's sworn man, of my own will, loyal unto death!"

"But the pendant-I thought-"

"I do not know why Aradia allows you to wear it," Wulfston said. "Very few have earned the right to swear fealty to Aradia-and you most certainly have not."

"Wulfston, exactly what claim does Aradia make on me? Does she think she can make a slave of me?"

"You are like a member of a captured army-you cannot be trusted, and you must be controlled. The ruler who has captured you claims you until you prove your worth and loyalty. Aradia may do with you whatever she pleases -including taking your life."

"Doesn't she hold that right over all her people?" asked Lenardo.

"She holds that power. So do I. But neither of us has the right to take the life of a freeman without cause. Aradia is no tyrant like your emperor."

Lenardo let that pass to ask, "Then I may earn my freedom?"

"Earn Aradia's trust, and give her your loyalty."

As Lenardo pondered the problems inherent in such acts, they were interrupted by the appearance of a woman with a tray of food. She opened the door with one hand and at Wolfston's instruction set the tray on a small table. Lenardo watched, Reading her as she left. She was no Adept, and the uppermost thought in her mind was that the cook had scolded her for scalding a pan of milk that morning. Yet she opened the door as easily as Aradia or Wulfston. Perhaps Wulfston had removed the locking device and would reset it when he left. Could I distract his attention and make him forget?

There were two trenchers on the tray, but only one goblet and a pitcher of wine. A joint of meat steamed on a platter, surrounded by leeks and potatoes, all cooked. A bowl held grapes and apples, and that was all.

"I'll join you, if you don't mind," said Wulfston, setting two stools at the table. "I haven't eaten yet today."

Lenardo looked at the meat and overcooked vegetables and wondered if he was really hungry. Fresh, crisp bread and cheese, with a salad-that would have been his choice.

The great chunk of hot meat, dripping juices, was much harder to face than the soup Aradia had brought. Still, there was no choice-his stomach clamored for more than a bit of fruit.

As he seated himself, Wulfston was slicing slabs of meat and placing them on both trenchers. Then he filled the goblet with wine, tasted it, and handed it to Lenardo. At the Reader's hesitation, he said, "It's a very light wine. It doesn't interfere with an Adept's powers, so I wouldn't expect it to affect yours."

Lenardo was satisfied to let Wulfston misinterpret his hesitation, which was actually due to being expected to drink from the same goblet as another person. "No," he replied, "Reading is not affected by a cup or two of wine." He poked at the meat in front of him, swallowing a few morsels as Wulfston ate heartily and cut some more. "Do you have hot food like this every day?" Lenardo asked.

"Mostly plain fare," said Wulfston. "Only at great feasts are there elegant dishes made with exotic spices. Are you used to more complex dishes?"

"No-simpler," said Lenardo. "Readers don't eat meat, and I'm used to raw vegetables."

"Raw?" Wulfston wrinkled his nose. "Well, that's easy enough-but how do you live without meat?" His eyes swept over Lenardo's body. "You're built like a warrior. Where do you get your strength?"

"Eggs, cheese, occasionally fish. It's meat that clogs the digestion and interferes with Reading."

"And meat that gives Adepts their strength," Wulfston mused. Then he shook his head. "No, it can't be just diet."

"What can't be diet?" Lenardo asked.

"The differences in our abilities."

Before Lenardo could ask where Wulfston got such a peculiar idea, there was a sudden crash behind them. The heavy candelabrum had fallen from the stand beside the bed. "How could-T Lenardo began, but Wulfston was already on his feet.

"Nerius!" he exclaimed as a shield hanging above the fireplace went sailing across the room to splinter against the opposite wall. "I must help Aradia."

Lenardo ducked the flying shield. "What's happening?" he asked-too late. Wulfston was already out the door.

Outside he heard a crash and Read a heavy oak table split down the middle. Following Wulfston mentally, he Read him run through the hall, meeting Aradia at the entrance to the tower stairs. "It's getting worse," she said in a worried voice and raced up the winding, treacherous steps.

Wulfston didn't answer but followed Aradia up to a room above Lenardo's, where a frail old man lay in bed, a woman trying to restrain him as his body convulsed, each spasm corresponding to another crash somewhere in the castle.

Lenardo could not Read the man, beyond his physical condition. Another Adept, but one whose powers had gone wild, striking arbitrarily, draining energy from his already depleted body.

Aradia flew to the old man's side. "Father! No, Father, please!"

"He can't hear you," said Wulfston. "You'll have to restrain him again."

"How long?" she murmured, then spread her hands over her father's heaving body and began to concentrate. Slowly the spasms subsided until the old man lay limp, unconscious.

Aradia lifted tear-filled eyes to Wulfston's. "Why can't I heal him? All I can do is stop the attacks-but each time they return more quickly and more severely."

"You're doing everything you can," said Wulfston.

" It isn't enough!" Aradia said angrily. "Why does his body refuse to heal?! It's against nature for it to destroy itself this way."

"Aradia…" Wulfston moved to her side, putting his arms around her, letting her lean on him. Shocked, Lenardo withdrew from Reading any further such a private scene. The sick old man had nothing to do with his chances of escape, and so he had no right to intrude further on the privacy of non-Readers.

As he picked up the fallen candelabrum and replaced the candles, Lenardo suddenly realized that the old man's attack might indeed have given him a chance to escape. The way Wulfston had rushed out He went to the door and tried to open it. Locked. He curbed a frustrated urge to kick the door and a secondary longing to fling himself down on the bed like a child in a tantrum. Instead, he forced himself to finish his meal, then lay down to rest again. It was, after all, sensible to save his strength, eat and sleep as Wulfston suggested until he built back his reserves. It had taken unusual effort to Read the scene in the upper room-so close, and only a superficial visualization. His powers were badly impaired, and would probably not return to normal until he recovered his physical strength and then performed a fast to rid his system of the effects of the meat diet.

Each day he was detained here was another day he could not search for Galen, and another day for the Adepts the boy was working for to rebuild their forces. He had to get away at the first opportunity-all the more reason to build his strength back as quickly as he could. And his arm was completely healed. He was better off than he might be; surely he would soon find a way to get away from these savages. Meanwhile, if he kept alert, he might Read something to tell him which direction to take in his search for Galen. One thing that would help restore him was sleep.

Lenardo woke to a minor commotion. Two men carried a wooden tub into the room and set it by the fire, along with a vessel of steaming water. Aradia followed them in, carrying an armload of clothing and a small leather case. "Time for a bath and a shave," she told Lenardo. "Then you can try on your new clothes."

The servants left, and Lenardo got up, pulling on his robe as Aradia poured hot water into the tub. What a cumbersome way to take a bath; no wonder the savages went duty most of the time. One thing Lenardo hadn't thought about missing was the convenience of a bath house.

Aradia turned from her task and laughed. "Is it empire custom to put clothes on to bathe?"

"Of course not. As soon as you leave, I shall bathe."

"Don't be stubborn. I'm going to bathe you." She was dressed more as if to bathe a dog or an obstreperous child, in a blue dress faded from many washings, a white apron, and a white kerchief tying back her hair.

"I am perfectly capable of bathing myself," said Lenardo. "I've done it since I was four years old."

"Then the middle of your back hasn't been scrubbed in all those years! Come on. Get in the tub. What's the matter with you?"

"It… it is not customary where I come from for a man and woman to be naked before one another… unless…"

While Lenardo fumbled for polite words, Aradia burst into laughter. " I have no intention of taking my clothes off," she said. "Whatever were you thinking of? I am an Adept, virgin-sworn. You are my patient, still weak after serious illness. I'll not have you fainting in your bath."

Lenardo felt compelled to explain. "I too am 'virgin-sworn,' as you put it. You are not a Reader. If you were, you and I would never meet face to face, let alone…"

"Why not?" she asked blankly.

'To tempt the flesh with what it may not have is to incite lustful thoughts that interfere with concentration." Lenardo recalled being caught kissing the innkeeper's daughter at the age of twelve. Despite a whipping that had left him unable to sit for a week, and hours of meditation exercises meant to banish the incident from his thoughts, for months, every time he let his guard drop he would feel the softness of her lips on his, the strange, warm sensations in his loins.

With a Reader's discipline, Lenardo banished the memory instantly. Aradia was saying, "You mean until you were exiled you lived entirely segregated from women?"

"Oh, no! Just from female Readers. I was at the academy at Adigia. There were only boys there, in training to be Readers, but we went among the townspeople often. We had had to leave our own mothers, so many of the women in town were very kind to the younger boys."

"What about the girls in town, as you grew older?"

Could she Read-? No, had she noticed some look in his eye a few moments ago? "We had to learn to resist, of course. The blood of youth runs hot; one of the hardest lessons we must learn is to abate that heat."

She smiled again the dangerous smile that half transformed her to a wolf. "I wonder just how well you have learned that lesson? But come-take your bath while the water is still warmer than your blood. I am no Reader, nor bound by your strange customs. You have a fine body, Lenardo. If the sight of it should heat my blood, all the better-I can make positive use of such energy!"

It was maddening not to be able to Read her when she teased him so. Embarrassed, he retreated into stubbornness, stiffly clutching his robe about him and looking at her defiantly.

"Do you expect me to waste my energy disrobing you?" she asked at last.

"You will have to if you think to get me into that tub with you still in the room."

Exasperated, she said, "Very well-prove to yourself how weak you are. I'll be right outside." She took a step, then turned back. "Lenardo, what sense does it make for a Reader, of all people, to be embarrassed about the exposure of naked flesh? Certainly you can all Read through one another's clothing if you want to."

"Precisely," he replied. "That is the reason the Law of Privacy must be so deeply ingrained in us."

She tilted her head to one side as she always did when she was thoughtful. "I'll have to consider the logic of that," she said and left.

When the door had closed behind Aradia, Lenardo stripped off his robe and stepped into the tub. He had to fold his long legs so his knees almost touched his chin when he sat down, but the warm water felt good. He leaned back, getting as much of himself as he could under water, luxuriating in the minor pleasure that he would know infrequently on this side of the border.

There was soap, a sweet-smelling bar of pale gold. The empire had never found the secret of making it; the luxury item was purchased from seamen who also traded with the savages. Only a very few times had Lenardo bathed with soap; on holidays and other rare occasions the housekeeper at the academy would break out their meager supply, and the bath house would be awash in bubbles.

Lenardo laved suds through his hair and beard, sat up to soap his arms and chest, and started to stand to get at the rest of himself. The sudden movement after the heat of the bath made him dizzy. He staggered and, trying to catch himself without knocking the tub of water over, stepped out of the tub, his legs at an awkward angle for support. He reached toward the closest item of furniture, a light chair onto which he had thrown his robe.

Soap-slick hands clutched at the chair at the same moment his wet foot hit the smooth floor. Neither achieved support, and he went down in a heap, overturning the chair with a ringing clatter.

By the time he'd got his feet under him and was trying to rise, Aradia was beside him, her worry turning to anger the moment she realized that he was unhurt. "I told you you'd faint!"

"I didn't faint. I slipped."

"Oh-get back in the tub. I suppose we're lucky you didn't flood the whole room!"

Lenardo cringed inwardly when Aradia picked up soap and sponge and began to scrub him, but embarrassment held him silent long enough to realize that her touch was impersonal. She made him move so she could reach every part of him, and he submitted in silence, sensing that she had no interest in him except as a patient-or perhaps her property to be maintained.

Nonetheless, when he was dry and wrapped in his robe once more, Lenardo felt more at ease. "I can shave myself," he- said as Aradia opened the razor case.

"Indeed? Hold out your hands."

To his dismay, they trembled; all his force of will could not steady them.

"Tomorrow you may shave yourself," said Aradia, "but today I'll do it-unless you would like to grow a beard?"

He realized she was serious. A good number of the savages wore beards, not all of them shaggy and unkempt. All he had seen among Aradia's men were neatly trimmed. Still, he associated beards with savagery. "I wouldn't know myself," he joked feebly.

"Do you want to?" Aradia asked, quite seriously.

"What do you mean?"

"Lenardo-you committed some crime within the empire, or you would not have been exiled. Will you tell me what it was?"

"I… would rather not" If the Adepts ever found out what he had said…

"Good." She smiled. "I'd rather have an honest refusal than a lie-and I don't think you yet trust me enough to tell the truth."

"Why should I?"

"Because you must trust someone. Your old life is over -that brand means you cannot return to it. You will not survive if you cling to the past I can offer you a new life-indeed, I can offer you life itself, despite the fact that you are a Reader, and we have always before systematically destroyed people with such powers."

"But you will expect me to use my abilities to help you gain power."

"I hope you will come to want to help me do what is right for my people. Right now I do not trust you any more than you trust me. However, do you agree that it is in both our interests that you should regain your health, not just physically, but emotionally as well?"

"I am not-"

"Lenardo," she chided, "you are clinging to the past. I'm sorry I made fun of you about the customs you grew up with, but for your own good, you should rid yourself of everything that reminds you of the empire. Become one of us. It is perhaps fortunate that you were robbed of everything you brought from the empire. Now you must start fresh, with nothing to tie you to your old life." She touched the wolf's-head pendant. "And is this not an omen, that you were sent to me?"

Had he truly been an exile, Lenardo realized, Aradia's words would have been the best advice anyone could give him. In fact, if he were to carry off the deception, he ought to think of himself as permanently exiled. "That is why you think I should grow a beard? To appear like one of your men?"

"Yes. Leave your old self behind. Become one of us."

"Very well. At least I'll try the beard." He picked up the small looking glass she had placed on the table. "It looks rather scruffy right now, though."

"Let me trim it for you," said Aradia. "It will look better in a few weeks, but I can make you presentable today. I trim my father's beard for him, since… he went blind."

Lenardo thought quickly. Best not to let her know he had Read the scene in the upper room. "Your father is lord of this castle?"

"In honored title. He is very ill and cannot leave his bed. He has been slowly weakening for years, and I have taken over all his duties." She spoke flatly, through pain so old it had worn itself to a dull throb in her throat.

"I'm sorry," Lenardo said in true sympathy. The violet eyes studied him for a moment, but Aradia said nothing. Then, in businesslike fashion, she went to work on his beard. "There now-put your clothes on, and we'll go downstairs and find something to eat."

"You mean you'll finally let me out of this room?"

"As long as I'm with you. Here-see if these fit properly."

The clothes fitted but were not at all what Lenardo was used to. The best he could say was that at least there were no trousers-the beard was enough of the mark of a savage for one day. The hose and undergarments were such as at home he would have worn under a knee-length tunic and floor-length robe.

The pile of clothing Aradia had tossed on the bed shimmered with rich colors, dark green and gold so deep it verged on brown. The hose were green, the undertunic dark gold silk-he had never worn silk in his life!

Over that went a silk shirt with full sleeves, gathered at the wrists, also in dark gold. Finally he drew on a sort of short cyclas or tabard of richly embroidered dark green velvet It was seamed from waist to hips and cut off short there, exposing the full length of his legs. Wulfston wore something of the sort, but Lenardo did not recall its being so short or so closely fitted. Lenardo felt displayed, like some slave girl in the marketplace, discreetly draped in such a way as to reveal every attribute.

He looked at Aradia in her simple cotton dress. "This is… surely not everyday attire."

"Indeed it is," she replied, then answered his unspoken question. "You have seen me dressed to tend the ill. They often bleed or vomit on one-or splash water." Lenardo managed a rueful smile, and Aradia continued, "If you are ready to care for yourself now, I shall dress more appropriately to my station. But tell me-don't you think my tailor has done a good job?"

Half from curiosity, and half to see how badly his powers were still impaired, Lenardo Read his appearance as if he were across the room, looking at himself. It was a simple trick, theoretically no more than any visual Reading from a point where the Reader actually was not. However, having oneself as the subject was disconcerting, and at first highly disorienting to young Readers. Torio was the only one he knew to master it as quickly as any other shifted point of view, without suffering dizziness or nausea. Lenardo had learned it many years ago, of course, but rarely used it. The last time was when he had first put on the black Magister's robe, years ago. There had been no time before he left Adigia to invest him with the scarlet robe of a Master. Will I ever wear it? he wondered as he stared mentally at the stranger Aradia had created.

He did not know this man; certainly he was no citizen of the Aventine Empire. Somehow, he appeared younger than before-the vivid colors and lack of professional dignity in his costume, Lenardo decided. The green and dark gold played up the shifting colors of his hazel eyes-he'd always thought they were brown!-and the beard gave him a faintly sinister look. Hair and beard were the same dark brown as always, but at home he would have trimmed his hair when it reached this length.

The close-fitting clothing was what made the major difference. Lenardo was tall, his body in good condition from constant exercise. The intent was health, not appearance, but the costume he now wore emphasized the broadness of his shoulders, the narrowness of his waist, and the muscular curves of his legs. He was right: Aradia had put him on display.

When he looked through his own eyes again, he found Aradia staring at him. "What did you do?" she asked.

Lenardo shifted his weight hurriedly and awkwardly as a moment's dizziness seized him. Again? And this time from Reading? Immediately his mind swarmed with guilt at his delirious outpouring of other people's thoughts on the nightmare journey to Aradia's castle, Intentional or not, the misuse of his power was taking its toll.

At his stagger, Aradia flung an arm about him. "What is it? Do you feel faint? Do you want to lie down? I'm sorry-when your eyes went out of focus I just thought you were Reading something."

He was very much aware of the warmth of her arm against his back as he answered, "I was. I was looking at myself-it's a child's trick. I became disoriented, that's all."

She looked up at him, her smile showing the tips of her white teeth. "Yes," she murmured, "you do look different… handsome…" Her hand slid up to his shoulder as she turned to face him, lifting her other hand to cup his cheek. "You could become very important to me, Lenardo." She half-closed her eyes, tilting her head back.

Lenardo felt his heart pounding, and the strange pain/ pleasure stirring in his loins that he had known at the moment of his first kiss. Did she-? Could she expect bun to kiss her? Something in him wanted to, but a more rational part of his mind told him she was testing his declaration of celibacy. As an Adept, no matter what he did, Aradia could maintain control. Then he remembered her statement that she could make use of any energy caused by her response to him. She's using me!

The thought cooled the heat that her closeness woke in his blood, and he gently removed her hands from him. "Perhaps I will be important," he agreed, "but not if I remain forever in this room. You promised to let me out today." The first step in the freedom he had to have to continue his search for Galen.

Aradia seemed not to notice the rebuff. "Very well. But don't be ashamed to lean on me if you feel faint-and remember, only Wulfston and I know you're a Reader."

At last Lenardo saw Aradia's castle first hand. This wing was three stories high, with a tower over the widest part, containing Aradia's father's room. Lenardo Read that the narrow winding stairs led down as well as up, but Aradia took him down by way of a wide staircase into the great hall. It was empty now, except for a heavy table across one end. Behind the table were several chairs, the middle one large and ornately carved.

On the wall behind the table hung three decorated shields, the kind he had seen in the forum at Zendi. The central one bore the white wolfs head, while the one to the left was painted with the figure of a lion in vivid blue, and the one to the right boasted a golden boar.

"You may come into the great hall anytime," Aradia told Lenardo, "or any of the pantries or the kitchen. All of these rooms lead to the courtyard, where you are welcome to walk in the fresh air. Come-we'll take some food and sit in the sunshine."

The kitchen was permeated with the smell of roasting meat. Lenardo saw what appeared to be the carcass of a boar spitted over the fire, and he turned his eyes away. As he fought queasiness, he paid little attention to what Aradia was doing until she called to him.

He followed her outside, welcoming the fresh air. The clang of the blacksmith's hammer came across the open space, while a young boy raked straw from the stables that formed the ground floor of the opposite wing. Horses. If I could steal a horse, I could move much faster than on foot.

The courtyard was a work area; there was no garden. Aradia led Lenardo to a wagon that stood abandoned in a sunny corner, one axle propped up on a stone because the wheel was missing. The wheel itself was propped against the wall near the forge, waiting for the smith's attention.

"Wulfston said you eat vegetables raw," said Aradia. "Poor cook! I'm afraid he thinks his cooking hasn't passed approval."

"We always ate a very simple diet in the academy, but I understand that among those with an educated palate, a good cook is a precious commodity."

"Lenardo… did you never leave your academy?"

"I?" He decided she could learn nothing damaging if he told the truth, while he might be more closely guarded if she caught him in a lie. "Most Readers do leave, of course, when they have learned all they can. I was still studying, but I remained as a teacher."

"In that sheltered environment, what could you have done to be exiled?"

Lenardo again borrowed Galen's words. "I was taught to think for myself. Then, when I did so-I was exiled!" He was surprised at how easy if was to put bitterness into his tone.

Aradia studied his face. "You will find new ideas welcome here, Lenardo. However… I do not think you have told me your whole story."

How did she understand so much when she could not Read him? Again he decided limited truth was the best policy. "No, I have not."

"I hope you will tell me one day," she said. "Perhaps I can help you."

Although he expected to be far away from Aradia soon, Lenardo gave an answer to fit the role he was playing. "Perhaps. It is clear that you have power among the savages."

She grinned, this time without malice. "If you would ever Read past the end of your nose, you would find we are not savages. Then we may find a way to cooperate. I want you to trust me, Lenardo."

"Keeping me prisoner does not inspire trust."

"I know," she replied, quite serious now. "Yet how am I to trust you? You are a traitor to your own people. Until I know a great deal more about you, I can only assume that if it seemed the expedient thing, you would betray mine."

For a moment, he was tempted to tell her the ostensible reason for his exile, but he hesitated. "Then what do you plan to do with me?"

"For the time being, observe you, and allow you to observe. You have agreed to help me with healing, once you are well yourself. Perhaps we shall find other ways to work together."

Such as my directing your powers against the empire, thought Lenardo, glad he had not spoken but wondering if she knew anything about Galen. As an Adept, and clearly one with considerable power, Aradia should have supplied troops for the battle at Adigia-perhaps have been there using her mental powers to cause the earthquake. But now he realized that here in Aradia's castle he had Read none of the grief he had encountered in and around Zendi. He suddenly recalled picking Aradia's name from the mind of the young officer. Had one of those blasted shields in the forum once borne the image of the white wolf?

Lenardo ate in silence, trying to sort out his thoughts. Wulfston rode in through the open castle gate, a huge white dog loping along beside his horse. As Wulfston got down from his saddle, the stable boy ran to take the horse. The black man started over to where Aradia and Lenardo were sitting, but the dog ran ahead, bounding joyfully to Aradia, paws on her lap to lick her face.

She laughed and pushed the animal down, giving him a piece of meat and scratching his ears as she said, "Where've you been, boy? I haven't seen you in months."

The creature wasn't satisfied with having its ears scratched and began trying to climb into Aradia's lap, waving its plume of a tail. She put her arms around the animal to hug it, and as it turned yellow eyes toward Lenardo, he realized it was not a dog at all but a wolf-the white wolf!

"He's real!" exclaimed Lenardo, and Aradia looked up at him curiously. "I thought it was a hallucination," he explained. "When I was left to die by those bandits, this animal came and watched me. He acted as if he wanted me to follow him."

"Indeed?" Aradia said thoughtfully. "Another sign. I wonder why you have been sent to me, Lenardo?"

"I met the white wolf in the woods," Wulfston said as he joined them. "The watchers report he's been seen twice this month."

"We missed you," Aradia told the wolf, who was grinning like a dog praised by its master, looking unutterably silly with its tongue hanging out one side of its mouth. It made a whining sound and pressed its head against Aradia's knees. She went back to scratching its ears as she said to Lenardo, "You need not fear the white wolf. He would never harm anyone."

"I wasn't afraid. But how did you tame a wild creature like this?"

"Oh, he's not tame!" she said. "He loves Wulfston and me because we saved his life two years ago." She chuckled. "I know he's acting like a spoiled lapdog right now, but he's a wild animal in the woods. He'll bring down a deer if he can get one, but he never harms people. If we lose an occasional sheep to him, people feel that the white wolf is a good omen, well worth such a small cost."

"How can you be sure he won't attack someone if you let him run wild to hunt?"

"The command is well planted in his mind," explained Wulfston. He leaned down to pet the beast, and the wolf licked his face like an overeager puppy. "Hey! I know you're happy to see us again. We're happy to see you too, boy."

The wolf ignored Lenardo, the stable boy, the blacksmith. After a few minutes at Aradia's feet, he got up again and disappeared out the gate.

Meanwhile, Wulfston reported to Aradia, "The watchers say there's a good cloud bank to the west. We can have rain tonight if we want it. The farmers say we need it."

"Fine," said Aradia. "Take care of it, Wulfston."

The watchers, Lenardo thought. A spy system? Would they know Galen's whereabouts?

That night, he was wakened by the sound of rain. Going to the window, he peered out into the black night. Two torches flared under passageway roofs, reflected in the puddles in the courtyard. Was Wulfston controlling the rain? Lenardo Read for him, scanning superficially through the castle, and found him in the great hall, with the blacksmith and three people Lenardo did not know. He could Read only externals; all had the blocks of Adepts.

Reading visually, Lenardo saw that they had chalked a five-pointed star on the stone floor. Each sat cross-legged at one point of the star, relaxed, breathing slowly and steadily. Lenardo was reminded of the state of a Reader's body when he left it behind. Was that how Adepts did it? Did they project themselves from their bodies to-?

No-if they could do that, they could Read, and a Reader could Read them. There was a physical similarity, but clearly the real difference lay between what Readers and Adepts did with their minds.

As Lenardo watched, Wulfston opened his eyes, stretched, yawned, and climbed to his feet, rubbing his legs. As the others did the same, he said, "Nature will take care of the rest. Come and eat now, and then we'll all sleep well tonight."

His words were greeted by laughter, and the small group headed for the kitchen. Eating again! Lenardo was amazed at the amount of food he had seen Aradia and Wulfston consume-and now other Adepts as well. Could the energy to perform their feats come from their own bodies? As he had seen no fat Adepts, that seemed a likely theory. On the other hand, how could an Adept-or even several working together-produce enough energy to shake a mountain? He stored what he had seen as unassimilated fact, to be reexamined when he had more information.

It was not yet midnight. Lenardo had been asleep for two hours, and now he did not feel tired at all. After his brief time up and around, he had slept the afternoon away-but it was a beginning. With more exercise each day, he'd soon have his strength back.

And what good will it do me if I can't get out of this room? It was a perfect night to escape. The rain would keep people indoors, the sound of it masking any noise he made. If he could steal a horse, the fact that he hadn't yet regained his full strength would not matter.

He stared at the frustrating door. How could a door be charmed so it would open to every person but one?

The things Aradia and Wulfston had said suddenly fell into place. They worked with nature. "It is the nature of the body to be healthy," and Lenardo's body healed itself of infection. It was the nature of the rain to fall-the Adepts merely directed where and when it did so.

It was the nature of the wolf to kill… but the white wolf ran free, unmolested because it did not harm people. The direction of its antagonism was influenced, but no effort made to stop the drive itself. "The command is well planted in his mind."

Lenardo walked over to the door, tried it again. Still locked-but the kitchen maid could open it with one hand.

Its not the door they've bewitched! Lenardo realized. It's me!

The thought sickened him. That they should have such power over his mind-!

Is that what they did to Galen?

Staring at the door, he began to seek into his own mind, his own beliefs. He discovered a disturbing tendency to trust Aradia. He had been taking what she said at face value-Wulfston, too, perhaps the more so because the black man made it clear he did not trust Lenardo. Being unable to Read the Adepts was more of a disadvantage to him than to a non-Reader; Lenardo was too used to Reading people's motivations to remember the clues non-Readers used. Probably he had never learned them.

He also discovered that he had rehearsed his "treason" so often that it now had the ring of truth. He had almost blurted out to Aradia that afternoon that he thought Readers and Adepts could work together. But how could they, when the Adepts had the power to control the Readers? Aradia didn't kill me because I was too weak to be dangerous. She used me as an experiment. If she didn't know about Galen, she has found out on her own that an Adept can control a Reader. I must prove her wrong… but then she'll kill me. Unless I prove her wrong by escaping clean away.

Sifting through his thoughts and beliefs in the calm of deep meditation-the most complex meditation he had ever done-Lenardo finally found the alien, implanted belief that the door would not open. He knew it, as surely as he knew the sun would rise.

The dual perspective within his own mind was terrifying. That door would not open; it was solidly locked. There was no lock on the door; it would open to a touch. Both statements could not be true, but in Lenardo's mind they were true, "knowledge" battling with what his Reading of the door plainly told him.

He had once observed two personalities battling so within the mind of a madman. He must cast out the untruth-almost as painful as driving the violent manifestation from that poor man's mind. Lenardo had not done it; he had merely been an observer in his year at Gaeta. Two senior physicians, Master Readers both, had forced the patient to confront and evict the malevolent entity. But Lenardo, and all the other students who observed that rare treatment, had had nightmares for months afterwards.

Now he faced an intruder in his own mind, for he saw the belief not as his own but as Aradia's. Like the woman, it was both seductive and dangerous. Summoning the same strength he had used to deny her physical charms, he drove the alien belief out of his mind and flung the door wide- leaping immediately to catch it before it banged against the wall to rouse the castle.

He stood there, hanging onto the door, exulting.

I'm free!

He could be miles away by morning-back into those hills where the bandits had attacked him. The main road north was still his best chance to find some clue to Galen's whereabouts.

He dressed quickly, Reading through the door he had reclosed. From the kitchen, the five Adepts went their separate ways, Wulfston climbing the stairs and passing Lenardo's room to his own. Soon he was asleep. Aradia also slept, in a more elegant suite of rooms down the hall. Inside the castle, he could Read no one awake.

Lenardo crept down the winding stairs to the ground floor. He came out in the passage beyond the kitchen, Read storerooms lining it and a guard room where there were swords, shields, a jumble of equipment… and, hanging from pegs, a number of woolen cloaks. He slipped inside and selected a plain gray one with a hood, closely woven to keep out the ram and full enough to cover his easily identified clothing. He also girded on a sword, the lightest he could find but still heavier than he was used to. He had practiced with a savage sword occasionally, but in his present condition he wondered if he could even lift one.

Fastening the cloak over his gaudy outfit, he took bread and cheese from the kitchen, then walked through the connecting passage to the stables. The horses snorted restlessly in their stalls but calmed when Lenardo moved confidently, reading them, finding a strong bay gelding with enough spirit to carry him steadily through the night, but not enough to challenge a rider who was no more than an adequate horseman.

His Reading allowed him to find saddle and bridle, and soon he had everything ready. Except money. He could sell the horse once he'd put some distance between himself and Aradia's castle.

There was one last problem: the guard at the gate. He Read the man carefully. He was awake, and the gate was barred. As he could easily Read the man's thoughts, he knew he had no Adept powers. Nonetheless, Lenardo was in no state to overpower someone. How convenient now to be able to put someone to sleep-and how strange that Aradia should leave on guard someone who would succumb to that. Lenardo could Read no other guard.

He could not disable the guard, and he certainly could not ride past him unnoticed. He might create a diversion to get the guard away from the gate, but how without rousing the household? Fingering the wolf's-head pendant, he wondered what Quintus would do in this situation. Probably sneak up behind the guard and slit his throat. But Lenardo was no hardened warrior.

Then think like a Reader, he told himself, disgusted to be stalling here instead of acting. Again he Read the guard, seeking any clue to getting past him.

The man was being lulled by the soft rain, fighting off sleepiness by walking from one side of the gate to the other. Finally he gave up, sat down on a bench and nodded off to sleep. Lenardo caught his last defiant thought: //If anyone comes here in the pouring rain, they can just knock loud enough to wake me!//

Only then did Lenardo realize that the man was not a guard but a porter. Aradia's castle was not guarded at all! Just as his room had never been guarded…

Of course. No guard could hold an Adept-and Lenardo had just learned that when an Adept held a non-Adept, she found it more efficient to chain his mind than his body. The castle gate was barred against animals or thieves, but what good would bars or armed men be against other Adepts?

The drowsing porter was not comfortable enough to go into deep sleep. Even if Lenardo abandoned the horse, the noise of unbarring the gate would surely wake him. He still had no way out.

Wait! Were there other gates? He had seen none off the court, no other main entrance, but as he Read through the great hall, back to the kitchen, pantries… storerooms- there! A doorway wide enough to admit a wagon! It was heavy and well barred but unguarded; clearly Aradia was not concerned about keeping people in.

Now Lenardo's only problem was noise-the sound of horse's hoofs as they went through the door at the end of the stable, not out into the court but along the passageway. The clacking sounds rang in Lenardo's ears, but there were no sleeping rooms in this wing. In the storeroom, he closed the door to the passageway, unbarred the outer door, and shoved against it. Weeds had grown up at the base since it was last opened, and Lenardo was clammy with sweat before he got it open far enough to let the horse through. Then he was outside, in the pelting rain. The horse whinnied and stamped in protest. Lenardo quickly soothed the animal, leaning heavily against his side to catch his breath, cursing the loss of his stout walking boots as the mud soaked through the house-shoes Aradia had provided. Then he shoved the door shut again and mounted the horse. They made little sound in the mud.

After his exertions, Lenardo was nauseated with weakness. He kept the horse to a walk, not only because galloping hoofbeats would carry in the wet night but because he feared falling off. He had hardly done anything, and he was so weak that he longed to go to sleep again!

He dared not rest until he was well away. Reading no pursuit from the castle, he followed the road for a while, knowing the rain would wash away hoofprints. When it became difficult to Read the castle-a pitiful fragment of his normal range-he left the road, carefully riding the margin between two fields. Then a patch of woods and a narrow road leading northwest. Good-he would take this diagonal and meet the main road north of where he had left it above Zendi. He was recovered from the sick weakness by now. With the horse to carry him quickly away, he would certainly escape Aradia's pursuit. She had no idea which direction he had gone, and no Readers with whom to search for him. The breath of freedom buoyed him up, and he urged his horse to a canter. A whole castle full of Adepts were no match for one sick Reader! He laughed aloud in triumph as he rode through the rainy night.

By morning, Lenardo was exhausted. Dawn sent the last clouds scudding off to the east, but the fresh breeze chilled him in the clothes that were by now soaked through. He shivered and sneezed, for once longing for a bowl of the hot soup from Aradia's kitchen. He took off the soggy cloak and wrung it out as best he could, laying it across the saddle in front of him. The rest of his clothes would have to dry on his body.

He wondered if he should stay with the road now in daylight, or whether he ought to ride cross-country. The chances were that he could stay well ahead of any pursuit, and he would be less conspicuous on the road. The soaking had even dimmed the colors of his clothing.

He Read back the way he had come, finding no one in range-but his capacity was even further diminished. I've got to get some sleep!

Off to his left he noticed a flash of light, then another. The sun sparkling off some rain-wet surface? There was a strange rhythm to it, and he watched curiously until he had ridden to an angle at which he could no longer see it. It was several miles away-far beyond Reading in his present state.

He soon climbed into hilly country, the patches of woodland melting into forest. If he could get to the rocky hills by nightfall, he could find a place to hide and sleep. But could he keep riding till nightfall? He was having difficulty Reading the road ahead while guiding his horse over the bad stretches. His concentration was faulty. He sneezed again. His head felt vaguely disconnected from his body.

This road was not well traveled; he had made a fortunate choice. How far did Aradia's influence extend? Would she alert other Adepts to a Reader at large in their lands?

She had called him her property. Had she been hiding his existence from other Adepts? He cursed himself for not asking Aradia or Wulfston more about how the savages were organized. Was there any kind of central leadership? The empire assumed on one hand that they were a mindless force-yet on the other that they all shared the single purpose of destroying the empire.

Granted, Lenardo had spent most of his time in Aradia's castle asleep; but still, she had asked him very little about the empire. She wanted him to work with her, she said, never us. Riding through her lands today, he had Read none of the squalor, hunger, or fear he had found in the lands near the border.

The information contradicted everything he knew-or was it just that he could not Read well now? His head was spinning. He pulled his horse off the road, found a sunny break in the wood, and almost fell off the animal. In moments, he was asleep on the soft grass.

Lenardo woke to the sense of someone staring at him. Three people, he found: a man of middle years and two youths enough like him to be his sons. All three wore nothing but knee-length tunics. They spoke, but while Lenardo recognized the savage language, their dialect was so different from Aradia's that he caught only a word or two. I must have crossed a border.

His head ached, he couldn't breathe through his nose, and as he leaped to his feet, a wave of dizziness made him stumble. He was caught, and the older man took his sword while the two boys supported him. All the while the man kept saying something that he finally recognized as "It's all right. You're safe here."

He had no strength to fight; it was easiest to believe they spoke truth as they half-carried him through the woods to a small house in a clearing. Here were a woman, a girl of perhaps twelve, and two small children playing in the sunshine. All were sturdy, healthy, cheerful.

In organized pandemonium, the family bustled about, putting Lenardo to bed in the one large room of the house, in the only bed. The noise of their chattering kept him awake long enough to drink the hot spiced cider the woman brought him and to look around. The house was simple, dirt-floored with clean rushes spread about. There was a loft overhead. A fireplace of plain brick occupied most of one wall-a sign of some affluence for peasants. A few iron utensils hung on the well-plastered walls. Everything was unadorned, efficient, yet they seemed to be in no want of life's necessities. Nor could he Read any hostility in them-curiosity, even pity, but nothing to indicate that he was not safe.

Since they had not removed his shirt, Lenardo knew they had not seen either the brand on his arm or the wolf's-head pendant-why had he not thrown that into a ditch somewhere along the way? His right hand was still unnaturally pale, but they didn't seem to have noticed. He remembered the bandits' fear of Aradia and the strange emotions her name aroused in Arkus-even if he was away from her lands, he might not have escaped her influence.

When the woman came to take his cup, Lenardo said, "Thank you. I cannot stay here, though. I have no way to repay you."

The woman shushed him with reassuring noises, of which he understood only one word, "sleep." Seeing that he didn't understand, she pressed his shoulders down onto the pillow, repeating, "Sleep."

Reading her, he found no hint of Adept power. He was too exhausted to go on. At least he was temporarily safe here. After a few hours in a comfortable bed…

He woke to the sound of hoofbeats and chattering. Before he could move, the door opened to admit Wulfston. The man and woman were with him, babbling in their strange dialect. He seemed to understand them, but he spoke to them in his normal language. "You have done well. This is, indeed, the man Aradia is seeking. She will not forget your service." He dropped some copper corns into their hands. "Now let me speak with him alone."

Wulfston strode over to the bed, where he stood looking down at Lenardo in disgust. "You are more trouble than anybody's worth. Ingrate. Horse thief. Is that what they turned you out of the empire for-stealing from your benefactors? I don't know why Aradia thinks you're worth salvaging. She should have let you go get yourself killed in Drakonius' lands. The best thing I could do would be to stop your heart right now and tell Aradia you died of exposure-except that I would not dishonor my liege lady." Lenardo flared. "Aradia's not my liege lady! You took me prisoner when I was helpless, and you held me by… tampering with my mind!"

At the utter loathing in Lenardo's voice, the harsh anger in the black man's stance softened. But then he said, "We also saved your life-and your right arm. As to keeping you prisoner, how were we supposed to trust an exile when we know not what crime you committed? You could be a murderer, a molester of children, a torturer of the helpless."

"I am none of those things," said Lenardo. "My crime was treason against the Aventine government."

But as he looked into Wulfston's dark eyes, he saw the question that did not have to be asked aloud: "How can we believe you?"

Finally Wulfston shook his head. "Aradia wants you, and she shall have you. Are you in any condition to ride?"

"I suppose so," Lenardo lied, tired of feeling so wretchedly weak. He sneezed.

Wulfston laughed. " That I could stop for you with hardly an effort-but it would require what you call 'tampering with your mind.' So you can just suffer through your cold and enjoy it. I'll tell Hlaf we'll stay the night."

Lenardo Read as Wulfston went outside. He had come alone. Of course; one Adept could certainly handle a sick Reader. Or a well one , Lenardo thought in frustration. How had they found him? Not enough time had passed for one of the peasants to walk, or even to ride, to Aradia's castle and then for Wulfston to ride here. Aradia's man must have been only a few hours behind him. How did he know Lenardo's direction?

Frustrated, aching in every muscle, his throat sore, Lenardo lay in the strange bed and fought back tears. He was a failure. He'd never find Galen, because Aradia would never let him go. He was a rat in a trap-each direction that seemed to promise freedom only trapped him more securely.

And in his own plight he saw the fate of the Aventine Empire, fighting hopelessly against the inevitable. The savages would take the empire as easily as they had taken Lenardo. Resistance was a temporary show. The most he could do was refuse to cooperate… and the most that would do was put off the inevitable by a few months… or weeks… or even just a few days.