Empress Unborn

Chapter Six

Julia cowered on the floor, soaked in Galerio’s blood, too terrified and grief-stricken to do anything but Read.

Antonius and Mosca were dead.

Galerio was dead.

Wicket was trying to reach her, pretending to be a patron wanting to kill her.

Capero pulled Galerio’s body away and hauled Julia to her feet. “You’re not hurt-yet.” He had to hold her up, for shock had taken all the strength from her limbs. Her mind seemed to have gone numb.

Capero turned to his patrons. “What shall we do with this one? Let’s make her an example-let Lenardo and Aradia know what we do to people who try to control us!”

“Julia! Get down!”

The powerful voice in her mind broke through her numbness; she squirmed free of Capero’s grip and dropped to the floor-

As an arrow pierced the gambler’s heart!

Heads turned.

Some of Capero’s men started toward the door, where a shadowy figure fired three more arrows in rapid succession before people began to close on him. He dropped bow and quiver, kicked his closest assailant in the groin, slung a knife into the throat of a man poised to gut him with a spear, and moved through the gap he had thus created.

Pyrrhus.

The conflict between frightened people trying to get out of his way and angry people trying to get at him created a passage that he walked through, unscathed.

When he reached Wicket, his friend took a position at Pyrrhus’ back, knife at the ready.

They worked their way toward Julia amid a breathless hush.

Octavia pulled a long, wicked blade from her sleeve. Julia fought her lethargy, remembering neither man could Read, but was drawing breath to warn them when the woman moved.

Wicket met her descending arm with an upward blow so hard the whole room heard the crack of breaking bone. He caught the knife that fell from her limp fingers as she fainted from the pain. Now he had a knife in either hand, and no patron was foolish enough to challenge.

Capero’s men, however, moved in-seven of them forming a phalanx against Julia’s two rescuers.

As they moved to separate Julia from Pyrrhus and Wicket, weapons flew again. A bull-like man heaved a spear with both physical strength and Adept power, enough to pierce both men-except that they turned sideways and bent away, and it sailed harmlessly between them.

When they swung back, they were side by side.

Almost faster than Julia could Read, Wicket’s knives were buried to the hilt in two of their opponents, while Pyrrhus flung two knives as well, grasped a spear convulsively thrown his way by one of their death throes, and drove it through a third.

Two on two now, Wicket and Pyrrhus glanced at one another, crouched, and let their assailants spring.

Both were armed with knives, and both were dead by their own weapons in scant seconds.

Pyrrhus did not look at the men he had killed, but he studied Wicket’s victims one by one. Every weapon had pierced a vital organ; all were dead. “Congratulations,” said Pyrrhus dryly. “You’ve finally learned to fight.”

Julia Read Wicket’s start of conscience, but all he said was “Had a good teacher, didn’t I?”

The two men stepped over the bodies, and while Wicket knelt to examine Julia, Pyrrhus asked the staring people left alive, “Anyone else care to challenge our right to take this child home?” He smiled in that bone-chilling way that Julia suddenly understood, and everyone backed up a step.

Recognizing that they did not want to be caught here,“people started for the door-too late.

Readers and Adepts were entering at both the front door and the back, city guards, healers, watchers.

Only then did Julia realize that barely minutes had passed since she had sent out her call for help. The response had come as fast as humanly possible-but if Pyrrhus and Wicket had not been on the scene already, she would have been dead.

As dead as Galerio.

Aradia never found the right opening that evening to tell Master Clement about her strange dreams.

Hours later, last night’s terror seemed foolish, nothing but a pregnant woman’s overreaction.

She was just saying goodnight to the Master Reader when Julia’s call for help came. Master Clement allowed her to Read it through him, then broadcast it to all the Readers in Zendi with his own great mental power.

At the same time, he grasped Aradia’s arm, holding her from dashing out into the night. “It’s too far!” he exclaimed, continuing to Read for her the scene unfolding in Capero’s gambling establishment.

“No!” Aradia gasped, trying to kill Capero where he stood.

Once, it would have taken no effort to stop the man’s heart at that distance.

Tonight, she might as well have no Adept powers at all.

She returned to Reading, clinging to Master Clement lest he leave her to her own weak ability. Terror rose as they Read Julia, helpless.

Readers and Adepts left what they were doing to run to her aid, but they could not reach Julia, nor could the minor Adepts come within range to use their limited powers, before Capero or his patrons killed her.

Then came the sudden eruption of Pyrrhus onto the scene, and a virtual massacre as Wicket turned out to be already there, and the two destroyed Capero and every one of his henchmen brave enough to challenge them.

By the time the rescuers arrived, there was no need for rescue.

The two efficient killers gently eased Julia out of the establishment, away from the corpses of her friends.

“Let them bring her home,” Master Clement instructed the healer who wanted to examine Julia. “She’s not harmed physically. She needs to get away from that place.”

He broke contact, focusing now on Aradia. “Come,” he said, leading her back into the parlor. “Ju^a is unharmed, just badly frightened. Let her fear teach her, Aradia.”

“What?” said Aradia, letting him guide her to a couch where she sat down and put her feet up.

“I had thought the girl had outgrown taking foolish risks. What was she doing there? Did you know?”

“No! I didn’t know she was out of the house. What were my guards doing? And where was her sense, to go to such a place? She is in my care. Lenardo will never forgive me!”

“Be calm,” said Master Clement. “We’ll find out what happened. But I don’t think Julia will be ready to talk about it until tomorrow. Thank the gods for Pyrrhus and Wicket!”

” That’s why Pyrrhus left us earlier!” said Aradia. “Do you think he knew what Julia was up to?”

“I doubt it. I think he suspected Wicket was heading for trouble-and the only way he could find out where he went was to follow him.”

Aradia nodded at the grim reminder of their other problem: Pyrrhus. She had never known anyone who would not succumb to Master Clement’s gentle strength before. If he could not persuade Pyrrhus to stay and learn to use what powers he had left, she didn’t understand why the Master Reader thought she could.

Unless he had suspected…

Aradia’s servant barely managed to get into the parlor before Pyrrhus and Wicket, who did not give him time to announce them. By this time Pyrrhus was carrying Julia. Oblivious to the bloodstains, he laid her down on a couch and turned to Aradia and Master Clement. “You Read-?”

“Yes,” said Aradia. “Thank you-both of you.”

She Read anxiously along with Master Clement. Julia was pale, sweating, trembling. She was conscious, staring up at the ceiling, but Aradia doubted she knew where she was. “I must put her into healing sleep for the night,” she said. ” That much I can do,” she added grimly, remembering her earlier helplessness.

“Your powers will return,” said Pyrrhus, “after your child is born.”

She realized only after guilt had stabbed her that for the first time he had spoken without bitterness.

When Julia was safely sleeping, Aradia called servants to put her to bed. The minor Adepts on her staff would clean away the bloodstains without waking her, and in the morning Aradia would deal with this new problem.

“She seemed so reliable!” she said to Master Clement. “I worried about Galerio’s influence, but I never dreamed Julia could get into this kind of trouble. Gambling! What was she doing-helping her friends cheat?”

“Uh, Lady Aradia,” Wicket said hesitantly. “Capero had cheated Julia’s friends, and she was trying to help Galerio set it straight.”

“What?!” demanded Pyrrhus. “You didn’t just follow Julia-you knew what she was doing? Wicket, were you part of their scheme?” His sharpness was back, as if the one slip into humanity had never happened.

Wicket cringed slightly. “Well, they were green kids, and Capero was playing the old sucker game on

‘em,‘t’force ‘em to work for him. I was just tryin’ to help em out.” His bright brown eyes went to Aradia, begging for understanding, but all she understood at that moment was that he had almost gotten Julia killed-and that he was wearing a tunic she recognized as Lenardo’s. Thief as well as fool! “Had no idea it was a trap for Julia. How could I?” he pleaded.

It took all Aradia’s self-control not to strike out at the man.

Master Clement said, “I think you had better tell us the whole story-the truth, if you please. A Master Reader can Read through the nonsense you’re shielding with, but it’s late and were all tired. Let’s not make it a contest of wills.”

Wicket’s shield of Adept power went up, and Master Clement glanced at Aradia, who nodded.

Pyrrhus ordered coldly, “Do as he says, Wicket. I already know what a fool you are. Tell us your latest folly.”

Wicket slumped onto one of the couches, all defenses down. Through Master Clement, Aradia Read that he told the unvarnished truth about catching the boys stealing at the horse market, and becoming involved in the plot to trick Capero. When he told how Julia had turned the horses, his shields went up again, but when they dropped as he skipped to this evening, neither she nor Master Clement said anything.

“And only then did any of us know it wasn’t Galerio he wanted, but Julia,” Wicket finished up. He sat, head in his hands, a picture of abject misery in the blood-spattered yellow tunic. “I only meant to help those kids. And now three of ‘em are dead!”

“Aradia,” said Master Clement, “much as I disapprove of Julia’s attempts to right a wrong with another wrong, what chance would you have given this plan’s success had you heard of it this morning?”

“I would have put a stop to it!” Aradia said.

“That is not what I asked. Given Julia’s skills, and Wicket’s, would you have expected them to succeed?”

“This morning? Yes. This morning I had no idea such hatred toward or Readers and Adepts existed in Zendi. I would have expected even citizens patronizing establishments like Capero’s to defend Julia-or at least not attack her! I would never have thought Capero would try such a scheme. How can such resentment exist without our knowing about it?”

“I do not think,” Master Clement said softly, “that it does exist.”

“Then what happened? Why did all those people turn on Julia?”

“Did you notice their feelings afterward?” the Master Reader pursued. “The prevailing emotion among Capero’s patrons was… bewilderment.” _

“You mean someone used them?” Pyrrhus asked. “They were caused to feel anger and hatred? Clement, you’re talking about a breach of the Reader’s Code so vile-”

“Unthinkable,” the old man agreed. “But then, we all know that even Readers are capable of doing the unthinkable.”

“Were,” corrected Pyrrhus. “Or,” sudden feral hope, “Portia’s cohorts?”

“All dead,” said Master Clement. “And Lenardo and I have restructured the Council of Masters so that there can never be an inner circle like Portia’s again. It is no longer possible to hide from the majority of Masters what the central few are doing-and the central few change yearly.”

“Then who could have done such a thing? It would take several Master Readers to control as large a group of people as that. How could they not be Read?”

“The same way whatever Adepts are causing whirlwinds and hailstorms are not being Read,” said Aradia. “They have to be Readers, too-or have Readers working with them. And our best Readers can find no trace of their existence!”

“They are misusing their powers,” Master Clement said, frustration clear in his voice. “We know that weakens them! And even Lenardo cannot project thoughts or feelings at just one person; such thoughts would be Read by any Reader nearby.”

“There would have to be a number of Readers working together, to control so many people at once,”

added Aradia. “I cannot believe our Readers would not detect them.”

Master Clement nodded grimly. “We are dealing with something that is theoretically impossible.”

“No,” said Pyrrhus. “We are dealing with somebody crafty enough to make it look impossible-someone who wants to terrify you.”

“Well, he’s certainly doing a good job!” observed Wicket.

Pyrrhus gave an icy smile. ” I could do it” he said.

“Eh?” Wicket asked.

“‘I didn’t do it,” he added, “but I know how it was done.” This time the smile was smugly self-satisfied.

“Well,” said Wicket, “are you waiting for applause, or are you going to tell us?”

“Please tell us,” Aradia added.

“It would take at least a Magister Reader, although we’re probably dealing with a Master,” said Pyrrhus.

“A single person could do it, using one of the techniques taught at Gaeta. Implanting a command, with something to key a later action.”

“Of course!” said Master Clement, relief clear in his voice. But he did not spoil Pyrrhus’ explanation.

Seeing that neither Aradia nor Wicket understood, Pyrrhus continued, “Sometimes a person with mental illness is violent, toward others or himself. It may take months or years for Readers to cure him-and in the meantime the person would have to be locked up to protect himself or others, were it not for implanted commands. Usually it is simply ‘Whenever you hear a key word, stop what you are doing and become completely calm.’ And then some uncommon word is given as the key, and the person can return to his family between treatments. If he becomes violent or self-destructive, anyone can stop him by shouting the key word.”

“Ingenious,” said Aradia. “By the way, a Lord Adept can also implant commands in people’s minds; we are not necessarily dealing with a Reader. But either way, we could not Read anyone driving that roomful of people, because nobody was driving them at the time they became violent.”

She nodded, working it out. “I see how it was done. Ahead of time, each one had the command implanted to go to Capero’s this evening, and try to kill Julia when she was revealed as a Reader. The ones who were confused and afraid,” she added, “were people who just happened to go to Capero’s tonight, not part of the plan-but they were outnumbered.”

“It’s not quite that simple,” said Master Clement. “An implanted command that goes strongly against a person’s feelings and beliefs doesn’t work very well. Sometimes not at all. Sometimes it sends the person into shock because what he believes opposes the command he must obey.”

“Ah, but the people at Capero’s tonight were gamblers, brothel owners, merchants who resent Readers keeping their measurements and accounts honest,” said Aradia.

She smiled at Pyrrhus. “That’s twice in one evening you have served me well-first rescuing Julia, and now assuring us that we are not dealing with some supernatural force. I will reward you with gold, of course-in fact, I would like to reward you with a house, if you will stay in Zendi and work for me.”

“Work for you?”

“First, help me find this renegade Reader or Adept who is attacking our people. It may be someone with both powers, but if so he will have one strongly, one only weakly. “

“Why is that?’ Pyrrhus asked.

“The two powers are the same,” said Master Clement, “and yet they are in conflict. Usually a person becomes proficient in the talent which manifests earlier, and develops the other weakly or not at all. Using Adept powers depletes the body, which reduces Reading ability. That is why, at my age, I see no reason to attempt to waken my Adept powers.”

Pyrrhus’ lip curled into a sneer as he asked, “You really think you have Adept powers?”

“Oh, there is no doubt of the potential,” the Master Reader replied. “Except for the most minor talents, anyone who has one power has both. Aradia has just succeeded in awakening Adept powers in Decius, one of our young Magister candidates.”

Wicket was staring, wide-eyed. “But that means-”

Aradia could not help smiling at him. “Yes, Wicket, that’s what it means.”

Wicket jumped up, and thumped Pyrrhus so hard on the back he almost knocked the man over.

“Pyrrhus- that’s how you do it! How I did it tonight, after Julia told me what it was!”

Regaining his balance, Pyrrhus stared haughtily at his friend, who was practically dancing with joy. “Do what?”

“Always hit your mark. Never miss. Pyrrhus-you’re an Adept! Just like me!”

Pyrrhus shook his head in mock sorrow. “Wicket, I always feared that you would go mad one day.”

“Wicket is right, Pyrrhus,” said Aradia. “Both Master Clement and I Read what happened at Capero’s.

You used Adept power to control your weapons, and so did Wicket.”

For the first time, Aradia saw Pyrrhus at a loss for words. He stared first at her, then at Master Clement, then Wicket, went to the couch Wicket had vacated, and sat down as if he didn’t trust his legs to hold him. “It’s not possible,” he said finally.

“Of course it’s possible-in fact, it is a natural compensation for losing your ability to Read,” Aradia said.

“Compensation?” He nearly choked on the word. “For Reading? How can you Read at all and say that?”

“That’s not how I meant it, Pyrrhus,” she replied gently. “I meant that the body and mind compensate when any sense is taken away, the others becoming sharper. Certainly no blind nonReader would feel that more acute hearing makes up for lack of sight, but it is still nature’s way of attempting to do so.

When you lost the ability to Read, you naturally began to develop the other half of your power.”

“Then why didn’t I know it?” Pyrrhus asked.

“Because you continued to think of yourself as a Reader,” said Master Clement. He smiled. “Look at you. You still eat like a Reader, don’t you?”

“Why not?” Pyrrhus shrugged.

“Because,” said Aradia, “a Reader’s diet doesn’t give an Adept adequate nutrition. That’s why you’re too thin, and why you’ve never had enough power to manifest anything that could not supposedly be accomplished with a strong arm and a good eye. And of course you didn’t know you were an Adept.

What you believe determines what you can do.”

Master Clement added, “If you had known you have Adept powers, and been trained to use them efficiently, you would not have been injured in the marketplace.”

“True,” said Aradia. “When you saw the vat of oil about to spill on the child, you would have directed the flow another way, protecting both the child and yourself. You’ll soon learn to accomplish what you want with the least expenditure of energy. Even Lords Adept do so, since we prefer not to spend half our lives in recovery sleep.” A new thought occurred to her. “Pyrrhus, you were a Master Reader in all but final testing and ceremony.”

“That’s right,” Master Clement agreed.

Aradia continued, “If you stop mourning the powers you have lost, and practice the powers you have gained, you have the potential to be a Lord Adept. “

“A Lord Adept!” Wicket whispered reverently. Then he sat down beside Pyrrhus, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Think what we could do with that kind of power, Pyrrhus!”

Pyrrhus turned his head to look at Wicket, and closed his eyes for a moment in a frown, shaking his head just slightly. “Like you. You said, just like you.”

“Yeah!” Wicket said brightly. “Julia told me the way I make money or dice fall right the way I want-that’s Adept power. Never knew till yesterday. But tonight I used it in the fight-just feeling the same as when I want somebody’s money pouch to fall in my hand-and my knife went right where I told it to. Good a fighter as you are now!”

Pyrrhus stared at his friend for a long moment. Then, helplessly, he smiled. The smile became a chuckle, and finally he threw his head back and laughed.

Julia woke to a touch on her forehead, between the eyes, and looked up to find Aradia sitting on her bed. “How are you feeling?” her stepmother asked.

Before she could unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth to answer, memory flooded back. She had been tricked. The people she had thought loved her hated her.

And-because of her foolishness-Galerio was dead.

“You can Read for yourself,” she replied sullenly.

“Julia,” said Aradia, “you know you did wrong, but you paid a terrible price for your mistake. I need add no further punishment. I was also wrong. It was convenient for me to treat you as if you were grown up.

But you are still a child in so many ways, and I should have allowed for that. For the moment you are relieved of all your duties except your lessons. Later, with Master Clement’s help, and your father’s as soon as he gets home, we will determine a work load appropriate for your years and experience.

“Now get up and get dressed. No lessons today, but I’m here if you want to talk, or you may go talk with Master Clement if you’d rather.”

“Why should I get up?” asked Julia. “My people hate me. Galerio is dead. Father and Wulfston have gone away, and will probably never come home. Why didn’t you just let me die?”

“Julia!” Aradia said sharply. “You have the right to grieve-and at the funeral today you will speak for your friends. But you must go on with your life, learn from your mistakes.”

Then her stepmother became gentler, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking Julia’s hand. “Child, your foolishness in getting involved with gamblers-even if Capero had not discovered your scheme, it would still have resulted in punishment for you when Master Clement or I found out about it. When, not if.

“But it should not have resulted in death, Julia. The hatred you Read last night is not the attitude of Zendi’s citizens. It’s not your fault that your friends died.”

“They were trying to protect me,” Julia said wretchedly.

“Yes, they died honorably, and will be remembered so. But think, Julia. Stupid people don’t reach Capero’s level of success. He could not possibly have thought he could get away with harming you-if he had been thinking for himself. We have an enemy, probably within our borders. There may be Adepts and Readers working together against us. No one has ever succeeded in defeating our Alliance with Adept force, so someone is trying a different form of attack.”

Julia stared at her. “You mean somebody made Capero try to kill me? A Reader?”

“Or an Adept,” replied Aradia. “I’ll explain it all later, when you’re feeling better. We’re going to need every Reader alert, for we have a subtle enemy this time, Julia. At the moment we have no clues as to who he is, or where he is-and that leaves us vulnerable.”

When Aradia left, Julia got up and put on the gray mourning clothes laid out for her. She was late eating breakfast, and Cook was subdued as she dished out food. Julia ate only until she had quelled the worst of her appetite. Leaving half of what she had been served, she returned to her room until it was time to leave for the funeral.

Every time she thought of Galerio, pain lanced through her chest, and she wanted to sob in agony.

Because she could not stand to think about him, she sought something else to occupy her mind-and remembered Portia’s scrolls.

Lying down on her bed, she began to Read where she had left off the night before, about Portia’s frustrated efforts as the young Master of Masters to give Readers a greater say in the government of the Aventine Empire.

Before the funeral, Aradia and Master Clement met with Pyrrhus and Wicket. The Master of Masters had no good news. Only one person they were certain had been influenced had survived the battle at Capero’s: Octavia. She remembered absolutely nothing of the evening. The Readers determined that her memory loss was quite real.

“All our Master and Magister Readers are on alert. Perhaps now they will notice any strange Reading activity in Zendi. What I find difficult to understand is that even now, after the fact, no one remembers anything unusual. How could thirty or forty people have had commands implanted, without one Reader in this entire city noticing?”

When no one spoke, Pyrrhus shrugged. “Sorry, I can’t help you on that score.”

“Don’t,” said Wicket.

Pyrrhus glared at him, but Wicket stood his ground. “You have no reason to be angry at Lady Aradia and Master Clement. They’re trying to help us-even me, when I helped get Julia into trouble.”

“You also helped get her out,” said Aradia. “And we need your further help. Pyrrhus, we do not give charity. You have proved your value, and once you have learned to use Adept power efficiently you will be an ally to be reckoned with.”

“You want to use me.”

“As Portia tried to use you? No. We don’t force people to do what we want. But we need someone to *

keep order in the city. Our Readers tend to be…

naive. Adepts have to learn to work with nature, and that includes human nature. We could ban gambling, prostitution, wine, gladiatorial contests. Do either of you know what would result?”

Wicket replied at once, “Unregulated gambling, unchecked prostitutes spreading disease, theft, drug dealing, cockfighting, dogfighting, and maybe even slave-fighting.”

“There is no slavery anymore, Wicket,” said Master Clement.

“Might as well be,” Wicket replied, “if people have to go to the likes of Capero for their pleasures.

Gambling debts where no one regulates losses can enslave someone just as effectively as Aventine law-and white lotus is even worse.”

Aradia smiled. “Pyrrhus, you do not place enough value on your companion’s wisdom.”

“Don’t tell him that,” replied Pyrrhus. “Wicket attempting to be wise is a phenomenon I prefer to be spared.”

“If you accept my offer, I’m afraid you won’t be spared it,” Aradia said, “for Wicket already understands the first rule of Adept power: it is futile to work against nature. People must have recreation, and certain types of recreation will continue, whether regulated or not. What people will do, whether we permit it or not, we permit. What we cannot permit is the step too far- dissemination of enslaving drugs, gambling debts destroying a life’s work, influencing people in power through their recreational follies.”

“Or,” added Wicket, “forcing children or animals to fight to the death for onlookers’ amusement. “

Pyrrhus studied him. “You…?”

“Yeah,” Wicket replied, ‘“when I was fourteen. I managed to win. I still don’t know how, except I was desperate. Ran away the next day. Ran for a long time after that, ‘fraid I’d be caught and made’t’do it again.”

“We do not want any children to experience such fear,” said Aradia. “Pyrrhus, you see why I want you and Wicket together as Zendi’s peace officers?”

“Yes,” Pyrrhus replied. Then he smiled at Wicket, a sincere smile immediately echoed by the other man.

“I never said we didn’t work well together.”

“Very good. Take as long as you need to learn the city, and then draw up a plan. We will give you all the Readers and minor Adepts you need to implement it. Master Clement, can you recommend a Reader to work with them now?”

“Decius,” he repelied at once. “Let him be useful while he gains control of his Adept powers. At the moment he is unable to work on his studies for the rank of Magister because he is depleting himself with Adept tricks. He can certainly Read well enough to help Pyrrhus and Wicket-and learn along with them how to use his Adept talent. It will take less of your time, too, Aradia, if you work with the three at once.

For now, I suggest that Julia concentrate on her Reading.”

“Efficient as ever, Clement,” said Pyrrhus. Aradia noted that he had still not forgiven his old teacher, but there was at least less bitterness in his tone than when she had first met him.

“As we will expect you to be,” the Master of Masters replied. “You’re the one who determined how we are being attacked. Now tell us how to locate and identify our attackers.”

Somehow, Julia got through the funeral for Galerio, Mosca, Antonius, and the people killed at Capero’s.

It was held in the forum, and virtually the entire city was there.

News of the attack had spread throughout Zendi. Julia Read bewilderment in the crowd, and both love and sympathy for her as she stepped forward to speak for Galerio, Mosca, and Antonius. Buoyed up by the acceptance she had feared was gone, she was able to get through her speech, although she choked on her words.

Dilys and Piccolo, Blanche, Diana, and Georgio were all there, lost without Galerio. Out of the whole crowd, theirs was the only resentment Julia felt-and she could not blame them.

After the funeral pyre blazed into white heat, reducing the bodies to ashes in minutes through Adept power, everyone filed silently from the forum. Julia started toward the five young people, but they turned away and lost themselves in the crowd. Julia was left standing alone.

With a sigh, she turned and walked through the subdued people in the streets, until she reached home.

There she went to her room, and buried herself again in Portia’s scrolls.

Amazing how similar Portia’s circumstances in Tiberium then were to Julia’s in Zendi now! She had a title, a position, great Reading ability for her age, and great responsibility, yet she was frustrated because the political structure of her community would not allow her to make things better.

And, just as a mysterious enemy was attacking Zendi, Portias Aventine Empire was shrinking year by year through attacks of the Savage Adepts no one truly understood, and everyone feared. Her Readers were used, conscripted into the army to guide it-and they died in battle, often as not, first target of Adepts who knew they would have the Aventines at their mercy if they could blind, deafen, and silence them by destroying their Readers.

But all Portia’s efforts to get the Senate to change the law, to allow Readers a say in the government of the Empire-to have even one senator to represent them- fell on deaf ears. NonReaders feared Readers, Portia slowly came to recognize, especially nonReaders who had acquired some power of their own through money or political influence.

When she put the scrolls away for the night, Julia felt confused. She hated Portia. Portia had tried to kill her father, had destroyed Pyrrhus’ Reading, had manipulated Readers and nonReaders alike. But the Portia of those scrolls was a different person-someone Julia sympathized with.

She would read more tomorrow, as Master Clement had asked her, to find the connection. How had the devoted, benevolent Portia of the scrolls she had read today become the power-mad villain Julia had known?

In the early-morning hours, Julia was once again awakened by Aradia’s screams. This time she did not get up, Reading it was just another nightmare, and that Devasin went immediately to waken and comfort her mistress. Again Aradia could not shake off the dream after she woke, insisting, “She’s trying to kill me! She’s stealing my powers!”

If only Lenardo were here.

But Julia’s father was gone. Wulfston was gone.

Torio was gone. Melissa was gone.

Zanos and Astra had gone with Wulfston to rescue Lenardo.

Lilith and her son Ivorn remained in their own lands to the north, fighting off a series of border infractions that pounded against the Savage Empire now just as the Savages had pounded against the Aventine Empire in Portia’s day.

Who was left to protect Zendi? Julia, young, her responsibilities now taken from her. Master Clement, old, his powers possibly waning. Decius, also young, but much as Torio had been when he had first joined their battle to create the Savage Empire. But Decius was crippled in body if not in mind, and unused to the new powers he was acquiring.

And that was it, out of the entire group who had toppled an empire and built a union of allies on its ashes.

No wonder Aradia had nightmares!

And no wonder she pounced on the opportunity Pyrrhus and Wicket presented to gain new allies. But they knew so little of those two. Wicket admitted to an unsavory past, even if he gave few details.

Pyrrhus, though, was more mysterious, even if they knew all about him.

Or did they?

Swordsmanship was taught in the Academy-but where had he learned to fight with a knife, or to shoot, or to use all those other weapons in his portable armory? Julia was fairly certain she knew when he had learned: between the time he escaped from Portia after she had crippled his mind, and the rapport which ended the Aventine Empire and killed Portia.

Pyrrhus must have set about to learn every form of weaponry he could, not only to protect himself once bereft of the ability to Read an attacker, but also obviously to take his revenge on Portia if the opportunity presented itself.

The opportunity had been mental, not physical-a far more satisfying revenge. Yet Pyrrhus had seemed far from satisfied when he appeared in Zendi.

Why had Pyrrhus and Wicket come to Zendi in the first place? Aradia had found out that they were successful and had a good reputation as bodyguards in Tiberium. Why leave?

Determined to find out, she let herself drift back to sleep.

Aradia’s nightmares continued, but she was learning to live with them. She wished Lilith could come earlier than she had promised, but she could not ask when there were constant border skirmishes against Lilith’s lands.

There were also continuing Adept attacks, but none near Zendi now that the Readers were watching for anything unusual. Some of the events might be natural phenomena-when whirlwinds came out of thunderstorms, who was to say that they were not produced by nature? If an irrigation dam broke in Wulfston’s lands and flooded acres of farmland, that again could have happened naturally. The only odd thing about the events occurring now was that there were so many of them.

Cattle stampeded. The wall of a stone quarry collapsed, killing three workers. High winds of the first winter storm destroyed a bridge in the mountains south of Tiberium, cutting off the main trade route through the center of the Empire for almost a month. Even with Adept aid, it took that long to rebuild the vast expanse and reinforce it against such winds in the future.

People started talking about the “hard-luck year,” and in Zendi gossip attributed it to Lenardo’s being kidnapped. On one hand, Aradia was always pleased to see how beloved her husband was, for he had won these people as a stranger and a Reader in the days when the first was to be distrusted and the second executed upon discovery. She had deliberately put him in a hopeless situation, and Lenardo, not knowing any better, had turned the decaying city into a shining example of hope and enterprise. That was when she had fallen hopelessly in love with him.

On the other hand, it was difficult not to be annoyed that they did not place the same faith in Aradia that they did in her husband. And as her powers waned there was less and less she could do personally to show them she could care for them as well as Lenardo did.

As weeks passed with one problem after another, and no clues as to where the attacks came from, Aradia even began to lose faith in Master Clement. He was as frustrated as she was, none of his Readers picking up the slightest hint of upcoming attacks. They just happened, out of the blue-and once in a while a nearby Reader would be able to tell which minor Adept had suddenly shifted the wind or knocked the main prop out from under a half-constructed building.

Pyrrhus’ theory was the only reasonable explanation: the people who were used had commands implanted, keyed to some expected occurrence. When it happened, they acted, and immediately forgot.

Even Master Clement could not discover who had implanted the commands, for consciously the recipients did not know that the commands had been implanted, or even that they had performed the acts.

The Master Reader explained to Aradia, “I can sometimes uncover the command-but not who put it there. Whoever it was, he or she was unknown to the victim. To learn more, I fear we have no choice but to subject one of those victims to having his mind delved into by a circle of Masters.”

They were in Aradia’s study. She and Master Clement had arrived first, then Wicket and Decius. They were still waiting for Pyrrhus.

At Master Clement’s suggestion, Wicket shuddered. “Sounds horrible!” He picked up a stylus from Aradia’s desk, and twirled it between his nimble fingers.

“It is,” said Master Clement. “The technique is normally used only on sick minds, to uncover suppressed memories necessary to the healing process. It is painful for both the patient and the healers. I do not want to do it, Wicket, but it may become necessary to ask for a volunteer from among those we know to have been used.”

“Volunteer to have his mind peeled like an onion?” Wicket asked.

Master Clement winced. “An unfortunately apt comparison. If we must do it, the best healers from Gaeta will work with me, to minimize the patient’s trauma.”

“I don’t want to know when you do it” Wicket muttered. He balanced the stylus on end on the desk and let go, holding it upright with Adept power.

“You mean you don’t want Pyrrhus to know,” Master Clement said gently.

“It’s what they did to him, isn’t it?” Wicket concentrated on the stylus-a neat demonstration of sustained use of tiny increments of power, showing the tremendous progress he had made in the past few weeks.

He should not waste such effort, of course, but Aradia understood that he needed that concentration in order to bear the subject under discussion.

“I assume so,” Master Clement answered his question. “A similar process to isolate the area-” The old man cut off his speculation at the other’s look of sheer revulsion. “Wicket, you understand that I did not harm your friend. What he blames me for is not being aware that it was happening, and therefore not preventing it. I accept that blame. I had the ability to Read what Portia was doing… if it had ever occurred to me that it was so evil that it overrode her right to Privacy.”

Wicket shook his head. “All me life, in Tiberium, the Readers were supposed to be good, and the savages, the Adepts, were supposed to be the monsters.” He gave a sad snort of laughter. “Come to find out, Readers can be just as cruel-more so, usin’ people’s minds like dice’t’ play their games.”

The stylus broke with a loud snap, and the pieces fell to the surface of the desk in a perfect circle.

Wicket left them there, and looked over at Master Clement as if challenging him to deny the charge.

“Some people can be cruel,” Master Clement replied. “We can only try to heal the damage they do, as best we can.”

The door opened, not Pyrrhus but one of Aradia’s servants with a small casket. “A message from Lord Wulfston’s lands, my lady.” She accepted it, and set it aside as the man left. The casket was decorated with the black wolfs head, her brother’s symbol, and she knew it contained letters and accounts sent to her monthly while Wulfston was away. Odd-she had received reports only a few days ago. Perhaps there was news.

“Aradia,” said Master Clement, “I will not Read its contents, but there is a letter to you from Lord Wulfston in that chest.”

She gasped, and pulled the casket in front of her with trembling hands, wishing she had a Magister Reader’s ability to Read the pages. But she would never be that good a Reader, and besides, she wanted his letter in her hands.

The lock required an Adept to open it. The central mechanism was completely enclosed, the tumblers not intended to be reached with a key. She had to Read or know how it was made to open it, but of course she had known the complexities of her brother’s lock code since the day it had been developed for him.

With shaking fingers, she pressed the outer studs in order, and began concentrating on the tumblers. But in her eagerness she slipped like a child, the mechanism gave a loud click, and the studs sprang out again, leaving the casket firmly locked. She was tempted just to split it open and be done with it.

At Aradia’s grimace of annoyance, Wicket said, “Please allow me, my lady,” reaching for the casket.

“There’s few locks I can’t jiggle open,” he added, pressing the outer studs and tilting the casket slightly sideways.

“I don’t think you-” Aradia began, and then heard the first tumbler click. How could he-?

Decius was Reading the inner mechanism, about to tell Wicket the order of the tumblers.

“No-don’t!” Aradia warned him.

“Don’t what?” asked Wicket, not looking up.

Decius’ mouth opened in amazement, but he contained his surprise, as did Master Clement, who after a moment smiled at Aradia over Wicket’s head.

“Don’t break it,” Aradia improvised.

Wicket laughed. “You can’t break one of these things. The worst that can happen is you don’t get it open.” He became blank to the three Reading him, the rest of the tumblers clicked in sequence, and Wicket lifted the lid and set the casket on the desk in front of Aradia. She waited until the shield of Adept use relaxed, and she could perceive Wicket’s presence again.

“Thank you,” she told him.

“You’re-” He was looking at her. He realized she had not spoken, and his shields went up reflexively.

Then, “Oh, no.” He shook his head. “Oh, no-not sse. That’s not fair. It isn’t fairl You can’t do that to me-I won’t let you!’

“What are you doing to him?” snarled Pyrrhus from the doorway.

“Nothing!” Wicket gasped, turning to face his friend. “It’s nothing, Pyrrhus.”

“Nothing done to him,” Aradia agreed.

Pyrrhus looked over the tableau, Aradia behind the desk with the open casket in front of her, Wicket standing before her, the two Readers sitting off to the side. He tilted his head with a puzzled expression.

“Then- what have you done, Wicket?” An enigmatic smile. “Finally learned to Read?”

Wicket’s mental shields were no defense against Pyrrhus; the ex-Reader knew he had hit home by the way the color drained from Wicket’s face. “No! I–I won’t! I mean-” Realizing that he was not helping the situation, he stuttered to a halt, shoulders slumping in defeat. He looked away, refusing to meet Pyrrhus’ eyes.

“Wicket,” said Pyrrhus, “you’ve known that this was inevitable from the day we learned that the two powers go together. Now stop acting like an idiot.”

The other man looked up, incredulous. “You… you don’t mind?”

“I mind that I can’t. But why in the world should I mind that you can? Who knows? As a Reader you may even prove useful!”

Aradia hardly heard them, didn’t hear whatever they said next, as Master Clement and Decius drew them into a discussion to give her the privacy to read her letter.

The date was nearly three months ago. Wulfston had not yet found Lenardo. His ship had been damaged in an Adept conflict, and had had to be repaired, forcing him to follow Sukuru all the way tp Africa. He was sending this letter from a place called Freedom Island, off the coast, and would write again at the first opportunity.

“Julia,” she called mentally to the girl, and let her Read the letter through her eyes, sharing relief at news at last, disappointment at how scant it was. She tried to tell herself it was better than nothing, to keep Julia’s spirits up if not her own.

At first she thought the ball of pain just below her heart was her disappointed reaction. Then it spread, increasing in intensity, stabbing through her swollen belly, driving coherent thought from her mind as she gasped aloud.

The four men turned to look at her. Master Clement would have Read her, but she didn’t feel it because her own Adept powers manifested automatically at pain.

But it didn’t stop!

For the first time in her adult life, Aradia’s healing powers were not enough to stop her own pain!

A moan escaped her as the agony cut like a knife. “My baby!” she gasped. “Lenardo’s child-oh-don’t let me lose her!”