Flight to Savage Empire

Chapter Three

Red.

The whole world was fiery red. Astra stumbled through heat and pain, seeking the coolness of winter.

She fell to her hands and knees in a narrow lane-Zanos appeared and helped her to her feet. They clung to each other as the ground shook even more violently than it had the day they met. An eerie laugh, louder than the earthquakes rumble, caused her to look toward the mouth of the alley-to see the sorcerer Lenardo laughing at their terror.

He raised his hands. Sunfire lit him from behind, throwing his face into shadow as he flung lightning at Astra and Zanos.

The gladiator put out his hand and warded off the attack, turning the blazing missiles to harmless rainbows, lighting the face of the sorcerer in lurid tones.

It was no longer Lenardo, but Vortius! In the midst of the dream, the transformation seemed to hold great significance, but as the colors faded, so did Astra’s conviction.

She was lying in a hospital bed, so weak that she could hardly Read at all. Concerned faces of healers floated in and out of her range of vision, blurred and wavering. She struggled for breath, her throat raw, her chest aching as she fought for air.

Finally, Master Portia stood at the foot of her bed,

dressed all in white, carrying a baby wrapped in cloth of gold, but pale and deathly still.

“I’m sorry,” Portia said coldly.

“My baby!” Astra cried. “Please! Please let me have my child!”

“The baby is dead,” Portia told her.

Tears came to Astra’s eyes. “No! It can’t be!”

“If you refuse to believe me, ‘ Portia said, “Read for yourself. “

With great effort, Astra focused her powers-

The baby wailed.

The sound grew, encompassing the world, a universe of golden light, realm of the Sun God. He reached down to touch Astra’s chest, letting cool fire flow into her. Gentle, cooling darkness lovingly embraced her, carrying her away from pain to a place of welcome rest…

Astra woke in a strange bed, still very weak, but nonetheless feeling good. The pain was gone from her chest and throat, and her mind felt clear. She was in a small, dimly lit infirmary room. To her right, an apprentice healer was asleep in a chair. Astra Read outward, and found that she could Read a considerable distance, although nowhere near her usual range.

The young healer awoke with a start, and barely managed to suppress a gasp of surprise. “You’re awake!” she cried, jumping to her feet. “Oh, thank the gods! You were so close to death, first with fever and pneumonia, and then the coma-”

“How long have I been here?” Astra demanded. It couldn’t have been more than a day or two.

“Three weeks!” the young healer said.

Even after Master Claudia confirmed it, Astra found it difficult to believe she had lost that much time from her life. Her septic throat had spread infection to her lungs and brought her to death’s door, the healers told her-and then, two days ago, she had gone into a coma, and they had feared brain fever.

But the infection had cleared, the fever had gone, and-

“We’ve never seen anything like this,” one of the healers told her. “We find no trace of infection, but you should rest here for a few days to build back your strength.”

In her weakened state, Astra was in no mood to argue. Her first priority was food, and she astonished the healers by gulping down the gruel they brought and demanding something more satisfying. She had never been so hungry in her life!

Then she lay back and remembered her strange fever dreams. They were no longer clear in her mind, but a few images still haunted her. She fell asleep before she could try to make sense of them.

The following day, her strength returning, Astra was allowed to have visitors. The first one was Tressa.

“Enjoying your vacation, Astra?” she asked glibly as she entered, then dropped her false smile as soon as the door was closed. “Don’t Read!” she whispered sharply. “They’re supposed to grant privacy to recovering patients, so it should be safe to talk for a short time.’

“Talk about what?” Astra demanded, her apprehension aroused as always by Tressa’s conspiratorial attitude. “What has happened now?”

“I didn’t think they’d tell you, but you must know: another Master died two days ago-Master Julius, the head of the hospital in Termoli. Portia had him retested-and failed!”

Astra stared at her. “But he was a healer for longer than I’ve been in this world!”

“I know,” Tressa nodded sagely, “but that didn’t save him from Portia’s wrath. He was supposed to be married off to blunt his powers-but he chose to take poison instead.”

Astra looked away, fighting to keep her Reading from manifesting and giving away her upset to other nearby Readers.

Tressa touched her arm. ” Now will you listen to me?” she all but pleaded. “We need each other-”

“To do what?” Astra snapped. “Start civil war among the Readers? Use extortion against the Masters?

Where will it end, Tressa? In the destruction of the whole Reader system?”

Tressa drew back-even without Reading, Astra could see astonishment and anger fighting in her face.

And Astra understood why: Tressa was right that something had to be done-yet how could a pair of Magister Readers kept strictly under Portia’s thumb do anything but destroy themselves if they attempted to expose the Master of Masters?

Before she could point that out, Tressa stood, and left without another word.

Astra fought down tears of frustration-and dread. What was the right thing to do? Master Julius had obviously seen no way to fight Portia-or else he had tried and failed. But Tressa was right that Portia couldn’t live forever; perhaps the young Readers could just pretend to notice nothing, and wait it out until eventually Portia was gone. And if her successor was equally corrupt? Well, they could deal with that when and if it happened.

Astra didn’t believe it could happen. The Academy system was set up so that Readers could not be corrupted by power. All their needs were cared for, but they were not allowed to own property or hold office. Portia was an anomaly. Perhaps she had bribed or threatened some Readers, like Darien and Primus-or perhaps she had just allowed people like Vortius to do so?

What was Portia’s connection with Vortius?

The next day brought solitude and boredom to the rapidly recovering patient, and she decided to test her powers. Carefully positioning her body on the bed, she left it, reveling in the feeling of freedom. She drifted through the infirmary to the maternity rooms.

Many women of Tiberium came to the Readers for care during pregnancy; usually one of the midwives went to a woman’s home when she gave birth, but if it was judged that the birth would be difficult, the woman was admitted a few days before her child was due.

Thus there was only one patient in the maternity section. Astra was about to “move” on past without prying, according to the rules granting privacy to patients, when the young woman’s grief reached out to her errant powers, capturing her attention against her will.

The woman had lost her child. She lay tensely on the bed, her mind futilely circling in grief. Astra was forcefully reminded of her fever dream-

So that’s where it came from!

She dragged her attention away from the sorrowing woman, mortified. Readers were trained as children not to Read while they slept. Astra’s training had taken much longer than that of the other girls; her powers had refused to rest at night despite months on end of being jolted harshly awake by a monitoring Reader each time her mind reached outward in her sleep.

To avoid Reading the patient, Astra concentrated on the room, recognizing it from her dream. But the rest… Portia visiting a nonReader? Conducting the funeral for the innocent herself, dressed all in white?

And the dead baby wrapped in cloth of gold? Surely not for this grieving woman’s benefit.

Portia wasn’t a healer-Astra had never known her to touch an ill or injured person, even in an emergency. Of course she would have had medical training years ago, but the Master of Masters was never involved with such things now.

Astra’s dream, then, could not have been mere Reading of this poor woman’s loss. Her grief had triggered something-a memory, something connected

with the infirmary… a time when Portia had come here to inform a new mother-

My mother! Astra realized in utter astonishment. With the total conviction of her wild powers Reading the history of that room in the maternity ward, she knew she had Read her own mother’s memories!

Astra had learned her mother’s story in gossip and random thought. Since young Readers were always separated from their families when their powers were discovered, she had been no different from the other girls at first-except that she had lived here at the Academy since she could remember, while others were brought here at six, seven, or eight.

But the adult Readers knew the scandal, and inevitably it leaked to the young girls in training-and under the harsh disciplines of Readers’ training they grasped at something to gossip about. No adult had ever told Astra her parents’ story; the pretense, even today, was that she should never know it. As if that would help her ward off the suspicions always flung her way!

Eventually she had pieced together the whole story.

Twenty-five years ago, the city of Zendi had been inside the empire’s northern border. The savages, after a long and bloody battle, had succeeded in pushing the border all the way south to Adigia. Thousands of refugees overflowed the small town of Adigia, many of them wounded in the fighting. Among the injured were some male Readers from the Zendi Academy who had escaped being killed by the enemy. Healers from the central cities, especially Tiberium, had rushed to Adigia to deal with the many sick and wounded.

The rule regarding male and female Readers not meeting had been suspended for healers in the emergency. Thus it was possible for Master Anthony, a swordsman and musician, to become the patient of Master Cassandra of the Tiberium Academy.

Not long after his recovery, and before her recall to Tiberium, something… happened between the two Masters. Love? Perhaps. Certainly there was no way for Cassandra to hide the fact that she had violated her Reader’s Oath of celibacy.

Apparently she had been kept a virtual prisoner in the Academy until her child was born. Not long afterward, she somehow managed to escape from the Academy, from the empire entirely, never to be heard of again.

Leaving me, the symbol of her shame, as a ward of the state. How she must have hated me, not to have taken me with her.

Two healers entered the infirmary room. One of them, Master Claudia, said to the distraught young woman, “We know how you are grieving, Celia, but you must understand that the baby’s stillbirth was in no way your fault.” The other Master handed the woman a cup of wine, which Astra could Read contained a sedative.

As the patient drank, Claudia spoke soft, hypnotic words. The woman slowly relaxed, her mind entering a trancelike state. The two healers’ minds gently touched hers, deepening the trance, then delicately worked to lessen her grief in ways that Astra only partially understood.

They were using techniques of advanced medical training. Astra had received basic training in such techniques at Gaeta, but these were methods she would have learned only if she had become a healer rather than a music teacher. In her time as a student at the Gaeta hospital-

TERROR! PAIN!

Dozens of Readers’ agony screamed at Astra, buffeting her like a small craft in an ocean storm. She could not shut her mind against the flood of fear and PAIN!

“Help!” she screamed mentally, helpless in her out-of-body state to close her mind to the inundation.

Master Claudia looked up, her concentration broken. “Help me!” Astra pleaded.

“Stay here!” Claudia commanded her assistant as she hurried out of the room. Astra fought to reorient herself. She had to get back to her body, shut herself away from this pain, but hundreds of emotions kept tearing at her-

“Astra!”

Master Claudia’s mental voice was like a hand firmly grasping her by the wrist, pulling her back to the physical world… and indeed, the healer was holding her wrist as she reentered her body, feeling as though she’d fallen from a great height.

Master Claudia stood, breathing a sigh of relief. “Thank the gods! Astra, what were you doing out of body when you’re still so weak-?”

“Gaeta!” Astra gasped, now able to make sense of what she had experienced. “Something terrible’s happened at Gaeta!”

“The seacoast town?” Zanos frowned. He didn’t understand what Astra was so upset about. “What about it?”

Astra swallowed hard. “Late last night, an earthquake devastated the hospital there. Many patients and healers were injured-and some were killed, including five Readers.”

“Friends of yours?” He had come here expecting to find her feeling better, not in the midst of a personal tragedy.

“Acquaintances, some of them. But it was enough that they were Readers. I felt it happen,” she added, and suddenly he understood. In her world, no one dwelt in isolation-and he felt a strange pang for the threats he had made to Darien and Primus.

But Astra was continuing, “Zanos, it’s more than just the deaths of Readers-in a natural disaster, such things happen. But this wasn’t natural-they were murdered.”

“What?” He could see that she believed it-and with a Reader’s powers, perhaps she had good cause.

“That earthquake was no act of the gods,” Astra explained. “Master Portia used her powers to search the territory immediately afterward. She witnessed two spies from the savage lands, sneaking back over the border-a powerful Adept and a renegade Reader.”

This was indeed frightening news-and no rumor of it had penetrated The Maze. “She’s sure the two savages had something to do with the earthquake?” Zanos asked.

“Why, they bragged about it! When Portia confronted him, mind to mind, the Reader declared there was nothing the savages couldn’t do, combining Reading and Adept powers. Portia alerted the border guards, but the spies escaped.”

Although Zanos found nothing magical about evading the border guards, the rest of the story- “Just one Adept guided by a Reader-setting oft” an earthquake? Surely they can’t have such strength!”

“Master Portia found no other savages, and I’m told she did a lot of searching. The Emperor called for a special closed meeting of the senate, where she made a full report. They’re probably still debating what to do, though there’s little doubt that when the citizens hear about Gaeta there’ll be a public outcry for war.

The savages can’t be allowed to get any bolder, any more powerful.”

As soon as the senate session is over, the news will be all over The Maze, Zanos thought. “How much more powerful can they become?” he wondered aloud-and Astra gave him an unexpected answer.

“I’m afraid to imagine. They’ve already learned how to bring the dead back to life.”

At his shocked stare, Astra nodded emphatically. “It’s true. The renegade Reader was a boy named Torio, who was killed last year trying to defect to the savages. A border guard put an arrow through his heart, but the other renegade Reader-Lenardo the

Traitor-carried the body back to his friends, where they resurrected Torio and made him one of them.

Now he’s helping the savages!”

“And your Council of Masters thinks this attack was a preparation for a full-scale invasion of the empire?”

“Obviously-Zanos, they’ve been pushing back the borders for years, but now they’re directly attacking Readers. First the Adigia Academy, now Gaeta-I can’t believe even the savages would deliberately attack a hospital, except that it contained as large a concentration of Readers as any Academy. They’re trying to wipe out our system of Masters and Magisters, for they’ve proved that the failed Readers on the Path of the Dark Moon are no match for their savage arts.”

Zanos noticed the high color in Astra’s cheeks, her paleness otherwise, and attempted to soothe her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you-”

“It’s not you,” she replied. “It’s the savages. What are we going to do?”

“That’s up to the Emperor and the senate. In the meantime,” he added, deliberately changing the subject,

“I want to thank you. I took your advice about the stable owners. It took a full night of arguing and coaxing, but they finally agreed-not one of us paid those Readers this month. And it’s working! So far, all the stables have been represented at the matches, their best wrestlers performing. “

“Congratulations,” she said. “I’m glad the idea worked. There’s been no retaliation from Vortius and his friends?”

“Not even threats. No one has seen Vortius lately. He’s not at his town house or his villa in the southlands. So far as anyone knows, he’s left the empire.”

“But where would he go?” she asked in amazement.

Zanos smiled at her sheltered innocence. “Surely you know both trade and smuggling go on outside the empire. I’m sure Vortius will be back-but if it takes a while, and he makes a rich haul, it may not be worth his while to try to break the united strength of the gladiators on his return.” And maybe before he tries it, 1 will be far away from here.

“When will you be out of the infirmary?” he asked, looking around the tiny room. “I’d like to celebrate our success with a music party, and you’re the first person I’m inviting.”

“I’ll be out in another day or so, and I’d love to come,” she said eagerly, then frowned. “But your friends would be uneasy with a Reader in their midst.”

“Well, we won’t tell them.” He shrugged. “My servants won’t say anything. Just don’t wear your robes or give your title. Play your lute with us. Once everyone gets to know you, you being a Reader won’t matter.”

“And if they ask where I come from? What I do?”

“They won’t,” Zanos replied. “Not in The Maze.”

“Very well, then, I’ll be there. ” And she smiled, that beautiful smile he’d waited so long to see again.

Zanos left the Academy less lighthearted than when he’d entered. Surely Astra’s news about Gaeta and the savages would mean war. But he wasn’t as concerned about war with the savages as about a widespread search for spies in Tiberium.

How ironic… I’m finally free of Vortius and his kind, only to be endangered by Adepts from the savage lands. But if I had the powers they’re reported to have…

The next day war was officially proclaimed, although there was no mention in the public statements of Adepts having caused the earthquake that had nearly destroyed the Gaeta hospital. Zanos sidestepped the sudden fervor for the war effort and concentrated on readying his wrestlers for the next evening’s matches. He went to bed satisfied that each of his men was ready.

Sometime after midnight, Ard awakened him to give him a note.

Zanos read it, dressed, strapped on his sword, and almost forgot to grab up his cloak as he ran out the front door.

Minutes later, he entered the Temple of Hesta. Serafon led him to one of the anterooms.

Massos lay on a large table, more dead than alive. He was covered with cuts and bruises, and the gladiator didn’t have to touch him to know that many of his bones were broken.

Zanos swore mightily as he strove to hold his anger in check. In the back of his mind rang the sound of Vortius’ mocking laughter.

“Who did this?” he demanded finally.

“Cutter. That was all he could tell me. He didn’t know why.”

” I know why,” Zanos growled. “This is Vortius’ way of telling me he’s back, and knows I’m the one who stopped his extortion. Cutter must have been waiting to see which of my men would break training. I thought that for a while at least-”

He left the sentence unfinished, not really angry at his fighter. He had misread Massos, humiliated him in front of his teammates, and really believed he wouldn’t retaliate with an act of disobedience. He’s paying for my mistake.

“Zanos.” Serafon’s tone was quiet but sharp. “What are you going to do?”

“Answer Vortius’ message,” he said curtly. “For the moment-just for the moment-I’ll still leave Vortius to you. But Cutter is mine. “

Cutter and his gang were well paid to act for those too fastidious to fight their own battles. Everyone in The Maze knew where they celebrated after one of their dirty jobs. And at this late hour-

“Can you take care of him yourself?” Zanos asked, nodding at Massos.

The old woman sighed. “Yes. He will be all right… eventually. “

“Fine,” he said as he stripped off sword and scab-bard. Unlike Cutter, Zanos had to remain within the law to continue in his profession. Even in The Maze, Aventine law would not protect him if he used a weapon.

Besides, he wouldn’t need it.

The Crying Maiden tavern was a dimly-lit meeting place for thugs and cutpurses. On this night there were few patrons-except for the six men Zanos was looking for. They sat at a large circular table by the far wall, none with his back to the room’s center. Their rowdiness had emptied the tables all around them, Zanos noted. So much the better.

“Massos is going to live!” he announced from the doorway, and smiled as the six stopped talking and looked in his direction. He entered with exaggerated calm, spotted the innkeeper, and tossed him a small pouch of coins.

Behind the gladiator and to his left, two stools scraped away from a table and two men left quietly, closely followed by the innkeeper. Several other patrons kept their seats, watching and waiting.

The six denizens of the gutter stared at Zanos with eyes full of contempt and strong wine.

“You recognize me, ‘ he said. “That’s good. You’re not too drunk to understand. I’m going to assume that you’re smart enough not to get up when you fall down. Because if you get up, you will die. “

Cutter, who was sitting directly across from him, let out a derisive laugh, revealing rotted and missing teeth. “Why don’t you just go home, Zanos? You’re not in the arena now. And you can’t count, eunuch.”

The insult drew laughs from the others. Zanos hadn’t known his deception had reached this deeply into the Maze. “Oh, I can count, all right. In fact, I can do a lot of things that would surprise you…” He noticed all of them slowly dropping their hands below the table, shoulder muscles tensing.

He braced himself. “I’m here because I got the

message you brought me from Vortius. And now you’re going to deliver my answer back to-”

“NOW!”

Sure enough, the table flipped over at Zanos, wine jugs and tankards flying. He easily jumped out of the way as they staggeringly launched themselves at him.

His jump back became a spinning kick, connecting with the attacker on the far left and breaking ribs. The man fell back, screaming, and collided with the thug beside him, taking both of them down.

The other four moved in two directions, seeking to trap the gladiator in a circle. Zanos’ left hand snaked out and grabbed up a chair by the edge of its seat. He turned and threw it to his right with lightning speed, nearly taking off the head of that thug, leaving him unconscious.

Now a triangle opposed him, all three in his range of vision, Cutter directly in front of him. The dark-haired leader yelled something at the one on Zanos’ right, but the ploy didn’t fool him; he looked to his left and ducked as a wine jug sailed past his ear and smashed against the wall.

The one who had been knocked over by Broken Ribs was on his feet again, charging from between Cutter and the jug thrower. He came in low, arms spread for a tackle.

Zanos set himself and carefully timed a knee-kick to the man’s chin. The head snapped loudly back, and it was a corpse that knocked him into a small table and sent him sprawling, the hem of his cloak wrapping around his legs.

Seeing their chance, Cutter and the other two leaped. Zanos unhooked the clasp of his cloak, then rolled out of the garment just as the first one was on him.

Zanos’ legs snapped up, both feet catching the thug in his groin and using the momentum to carry him over the gladiator’s head. He crashed into the wall, slid down it, and did not get up.

Cutter and his last henchman came at the fighter from two directions, murder in their eyes. The henchman reached him first, aiming a kick at Zanos’ head. The gladiator twisted out of the way, and the attacker lost his balance, fell backwards, and hit his head on a stone pillar.

Zanos twisted the other way, but Cutter’s kick grazed his left temple. Ignoring the pain behind his eyes, he kept rolling until he was on his back again and could grasp the leg of a chair. He tossed it at Cutter’s knees. Wood and bone collided, and the man roared in pain as he staggered backwards.

Zanos got to his feet. The two of them faced off across the room, neither moving for a long moment.

Then Cutter’s right hand slapped his hip and came up with his throwing knife by the blade. One of the corner spectators yelled a warning as Cutter let the blade fly.

But the gladiator didn’t move. The missile missed its target, and Zanos deftly plucked it from the air by its hilt.

Cutter staggered backwards again, this time in shock, and someone muttered an oath. Cutter’s blade never missed.

Zanos smiled nastily as he flipped the weapon into the air and caught it by the tip.

Cutter’s eyes darted left and right, but there was no one to help him.

He jumped to his left, grabbed up a small table as a shield-and let out a small gurgle as he fell over, the hilt of his own knife sticking out of his throat.

Corpse and table hit the floor with a loud crash, and then the room was silent. No applause, no cheers for the champion. The only roaring was in Zanos’ ears. He fought dizziness as he bent for his cloak. The throb of bruises pushed through his mental barriers, and pain in his right knee caused him to limp as he left the tavern.

This is insane, he thought bitterly. I’ll have to kill half the city before summer! There must be a better way of getting the money I need. We have to be out of the empire before we’re caught in the war.

“We” now included Astra. With the savages intent on murdering Readers, she was in grave danger. And if the savages had such powers as Zanos had heard, his band of refugees would need a Reader to guide them.

How he would persuade her, he didn’t know-but the time to approach her would be when he was finally ready to go. In the meantime, he must try to prevent her Reading his plans, such as they were.

Suddenly he stopped walking. A new plan came to him, full-blown. He laughed at its simplicity. Astra is right. I can’t defeat my enemies alone, so I’ll get myself an ally- a very powerful ally!

The next morning, he dressed in his most impressive clothes, went to the royal palace, and requested an audience with the Emperor. Zanos usually shunned his celebrity status, but this day he exploited it, adding all the charm and wit he could muster to work his way through the Emperor’s retainers.

Eventually he was escorted to one of the conference chambers, and left to wait for the Emperor. The portly, middle-aged man greeted him warmly, clasping the gladiators upper arms as though the two men were comrades in arms.

“Ah, the arena games just haven’t been the same since you retired, Zanos,” the ruler said.

“Thank you, majesty, ‘ Zanos smiled.

“You’ve come to make a contribution to the war effort?”

“Yes, ” Zanos nodded. “As the war fleet’s launching date approaches, each citizen must do his part to raise funds. I’m offering as my contribution a special arena match-myself against any single opponent of your choosing-with admission receipts to be donated to the military.”

“Excellent!” said the Emperor. “I like that! The greatest gladiator of the century coming out of retirement.

Why, every citizen in the empire would pay to see that-except the Readers, of course,” he added with a laugh.

Zanos hid his annoyance with a tight smile. He had no love for this soft, self-indulgent aristocrat sending thousands of people to war while he stayed safely at home.

“But finding an opponent worthy of you,” the ruler was continuing, “someone who can truly test your mettle… I thank you for bringing me this delightful challenge. I will send out word, and when such an opponent is found, the match will be announced.”

Zanos left the palace, inwardly smug. Now that the Emperor himself had an interest in Zanos’ affairs, the criminals would have to back off. Even better, this match would generate heavy gambling. If he wagered everything he owned on the outcome, Zanos could win enough money to make his dream a reality.

Just a little while longer, and I’ll be going home… home!

In the days of preparation for war, the city of Tiberium began to change. Political and social factions which ordinarily ignored or antagonized each other united against the threat of the savages. The Emperor and the senate met daily, as did the Council of Masters.

Astra was released from the infirmary into an Academy whose daily routine was interrupted by senators and generals seeking audience with Portia at all hours.

She picked up the threads of her duties, but with a keener interest in both state and Academy politics.

She used her powers carefully, not deliberately spying, but attempting to separate the strange facts from the even stranger rumors. Slowly she gained a picture of a nervous senate wanting to protect Aventine citizens from further attacks by the savages-but also

hoping that the army could regain the lands lost to the Adepts in the past few decades.

“It could happen,” Zanos agreed when she told him her speculations. She had stolen an hour from errands Portia had assigned her, and found him willing to take a break from his strenuous training for the upcoming bout. Nothing she told him violated her Reader’s Oath-and she quickly found that the rumors in the Academies were equally current in The Maze.

Despite the chill air, Zanos shone with sweat in the winter sunshine. He had been practicing with a wooden sword against some complex piece of machinery which, Astra noted, swung around to strike the athlete whose blow landed off the target. As she stood next to him, she became aware of the salt smell of his fresh sweat, and realized that he was wearing almost nothing-just a sort of breechclout.

His muscles rippled, even when he merely bent to pick up a rough towel to wipe himself off after his exertion, and Astra noticed once again how huge and powerful he was. She remembered him holding the collapsing building off the children they had rescued the day they met… his strength inspired her trust somehow, as if he could protect her. But that was nonsense-no mere man’s strength meant anything against the powers of the savage Adepts.

Zanos tossed the towel over the apparatus, and pulled a woolen tunic over his head. Not noticing Astra’s blush, he continued, “Ships are massing in the harbors. The army will probably attack the western coast, then march inland. If they move fast enough, they might take a good piece of territory before the Adepts unite against them. But when that happens, there is going to be a slaughter. “

It’s the Adepts who will do the slaughtering,” Astra said, letting Zanos lead her away from the practice field in the direction of his home. “I’ve heard that the sorcerers can turn ships to stone. If that’s true, our troops may never reach the land!”

“Every battle, every war has its ifs,” Zanos pointed out. “A gladiator faces them every time he steps into the arena: he might lose his life if his opponent is the stronger, or the smarter-or he might die simply because the gods frown on him that day.”

“Yes,” said Astra, as Zanos opened the door to his house and led her into the music room. “That brings me to the real reason I’m here. Why are you going to fight in the arena again?”

He explained that it was his contribution to the war effort, told her of the Emperor’s excitement- but she was not satisfied.

“Why would you want to endanger your life again? Surely not just out of patriotism.”

Zanos gave her a strange smile, and an old feeling came back to her-the sense that he was hiding something very important from her. A part of her wanted to violate the Reader’s Code and purposely invade his thoughts, but she wouldn’t, couldn’t do it even if she suspected him to be an enemy of the state.

This man stirred up emotions in her that she could neither deny nor fully comprehend.

“Vortius is back in Tiberium,” he said finally. “I plan to use the match to keep him from attacking me. I didn’t tell you I was back in training because I knew you wouldn’t come anywhere near the arena unless you had to-like the day we met. I knew you’d hear about it anyway.”

“I may not come to watch you fight,” Astra said quietly, “but I care what happens to you-as a friend. Is this why you never held your music party?”

“I’ve spent all my time getting back in training. My opponent has been chosen and is being brought to Tiberium. The Emperor will set the date for the contest in the next few days. It will probably be just before the first day of spring. So I’ve had no time for music. Besides, you know what a terrible player I am.”

“I know no such thing,” Astra said as she got up to retrieve the two musical instruments from the corner.

Zanos was still protesting as she handed him his flute, then sat down again to tune her instrument. With a smile, she challenged him with an intriguing tune that she made up on the spot. Zanos raised his instrument and chased musically after her, harmonizing as Astra repeated the main theme.

The joy she experienced that day was deepened in the following weeks. Any evening Astra had free from her duties, she knew she would find Zanos at home-his strict physical regimen meant no carousing, and an early bedtime.

So they shared private music parties, giving her brief respite from the increased apprehension in the Reader system. The split in the Council of Masters seemed to be getting worse. More students, Magisters, and Masters were sent to walk the Path of the Dark Moon. Astra held her tongue, tried to hold her wild powers in check, and kept out of Portia’s way except when sent for. She didn’t have to work at avoiding Tressa; the other young Magister stayed well out of Astra’s environment.

The day of the benefit in the gladiatorial arena was announced. Zanos’ match against his mysterious opponent would be the main event of the day. Two days before, Astra visited him, hoping it would not be for the last time.

“Don’t worry,” he told her with a smile. “I’ll win. I know what I’m doing, Astra.”

“All the same, I’ve heard about this Mallen,” Astra said. “He’s traveled all around the empire, taking any combat challenge. He’s undefeated.”

“So am I,” he reminded her, “and I’ve got much more experience than he has. Don’t worry about me. Tell you what-as soon as the victory parties are over, we’ll have that music party I promised you. You’ll like my musician friends, I think. “

But Astra couldn’t turn to another subject. She found it hard to look at him as she said, “Would it offend you if I told you I pray every day for your victory?”

“No,” he said gently, “and I thank you for it. I know you won’t be watching or Reading the match, but keep your ears open that day-my victory cry will be louder than the applause of the entire stadium!”

Astra tried to smile encouragement, despite her apprehension. Two days… I wonder what I’ll be doing then- besides worrying about you?

“In two days,” Portia informed her, “you will be the bride’s attendant at a wedding-Tressa’s.”

Astra, already startled at finding the Master of Masters waiting up for her, went numb with shock.

When she did not answer, Portia continued, “For some time now, I have had grave doubts about Tressa’s competency as a Reader. After investigating, we have decided that she is not truly skilled enough for the upper ranks; those who tested her for Magister must have been mistaken. It can happen that several Masters are not at their best on one particular day. After all, even Readers are only human. “

Astra knew, almost without thinking it, that her assignment as Tressa’s attendant was another punishment duty-or perhaps a warning. She wasn’t Tressa’s friend; like Astra, Tressa had no real friends at the Academy. On the other hand, it was possible that Portia had chosen Astra for this task because she truly was the person who knew Tressa best.

“As you wisn, Master Portia, ‘ Astra said carefully. “Has Tressa been informed?”

“About an hour ago. I have been waiting for you since. You have spent much time outside the Academy recently, Astra. Please advise me of such excursions in the future-with the impending war, it is necessary that I be able to contact all my Readers at a moment’s notice.”

“Yes, Master Portia,” replied Astra with all the humility she could muster. Her heart was pounding, and it took all her control not to broadcast her anxiety.

Portia dismissed her, and Astra fled down the corridor and across the courtyard to the dormitory, letting her Reading open wide.

Tressa was sitting on the side of her bed, closed to Reading. Astra knocked at her door, then opened it without waiting for a reply. Lamplight glittered off the blade of the knife in Tressa’s hand. She stared at it with rapt attention, as though the weapon were a holy object.

“You know?” Tressa asked flatly.

“Portia told me,” Astra said, trying to catch her breath, not knowing what to say.

The fierceness was gone from Tressa’s eyes as she looked up at Astra. With frightening calm, she said,

“Why didn’t you help me when I asked?”

Because 1 feared to end up as you have- or worse.

“Because… I am a coward,” Astra said simply, without apology or regret. “I was afraid. I still am.”

“Yet you didn’t report me. Perhaps I should be grateful-but you’re trying to avoid commitment, Astra, either for Portia or against her. How long do you think she will allow that?”

Tressa looked down at the knife again, hefting it-then suddenly threw it at the far wall. As it clattered to the floor, she took in a long deep breath, and Astra could Read her fighting to hold back tears. Anger swallowed Tressa’s grief, and Astra knew she would not follow Master Julius to the plane of the dead.

Not yet.

There was a Temple of Selene attached to Portia’s Academy; Astra had been there many times, playing her lute to the glory of the goddess. Selene protected the chastity of the young female Readers-but she also blessed many young women for the last time at their weddings. Four young girls, Readers in training, were decorating the temple with flowers. They wore pink silk dresses rather than their usual plain white, in honor of the occasion.

A priest and priestess of Selene would officiate at the ceremony-they were not Readers, so there was no reason for the priest not to enter the Academy grounds. Nor for the bridegroom, now that he had been declared failed. Astra Read him in the anteroom, a sad young man, still bewildered and disbelieving.

He was not Reading; all Astra could tell were his surface emotions. He did not seem curious to Read for his bride-not surprising, for Tressa was also not interested in the man chosen for her. Her shields were up more tightly than Astra had ever known; for all she showed, Tressa might not have been a Reader at all.

Astra wanted to tell her she didn’t feel pity- however much she might dislike Tressa, there was no question that she deserved her rank of Magister. Tressa had been treated unfairly-Astra rankled at the injustice, but did not know how to counter it. She had tried before, for Helena. Now she was older, and knew much more than she had then. Now her punishment for disputing Portias decision would be far worse than being deprived of her music.

But Tressa was right: she could not refuse to take sides forever.

Tressa, she thought, holding her thoughts carefully inward so no one could Read them, you will be avenged. I don’t know what, but 1 will do something to help stop this madness!

It was too late for Tressa, but Astra felt better for her vow to do something before Tressa’s fate befell some other Reader. She and Master Claudia hung away Tressa’s black-bordered white gown. The black outer robes of her Magister status had already been taken away. On the narrow bed lay the small parcel of clothes Tressa owned which gave no indication of belonging to a Reader.

Tressa returned from her bath. Claudia helped her into her loose underrobe, and sat her down to arrange her hair. Taming the thick black mass into

chaste braids atop her head took some time, and the silence among the three women stretched endlessly.

Astra fingered the red marriage gown. It was softest silk, and intrinsically beautiful-if only the bride were happily choosing to marry a man she loved. She knew Tressa perceived it as ugly-as she would, were she forced to wear it to wed a stranger and destroy her powers.

What would happen, she wondered idly, if the bride and groom decided not to consummate their marriage? Surely no Master Reader spied on their wedding bed to make certain-

She almost gagged at the thought.

Yet for all the rumors and innuendos her errant powers had brought her over the years, never once had she heard of a couple not performing their marital duties. Peculiar, when they were always strangers and usually sick at heart at having been expelled from the familiar life of the Academy.

A cloying smell assailed her nostrils, and she turned to see Claudia molding the last stray locks of Tressa’s hair with perfumed oil.

Tressa wrinkled her nose. “Uff! That stuff smells like Morella’s whores!”

Indeed it did, Astra recognized, only stronger, and with a few subtle musky tones she didn’t know.

“Oh-I can’t stand that!” Tressa protested. “Let me go wash it off!”

“No,” Master Claudia insisted, one hand on Tressa’s shoulder holding her in place. “It is the traditional wedding oil. You must wear it, just as your bridegroom does. I mixed it for you myself, Tressa-it is the formula specified in the wedding rite of Selene.”

An aphrodisiac, Astra speculated. Probably intended to make things easier. Still, her nose wrinkled too as she brought the red dress and helped Claudia put it on Tressa.

Then Claudia picked up the token both Astra and Tressa had been studiously ignoring-a small enamel badge, black circle on a white background. As she started to pin it to Tressa’s dress, the young woman pushed her hand away. “No! Master Claudia, you know I don’t deserve-!”

“Oh, child,” the older woman said, her eyes brimming with tears, “no Reader thinks she deserves it, but the Council of Masters must make certain that no undeserving Reader reaches the upper ranks. The nonReaders trust us to govern our own.”

A surge of sympathy opened Astra’s powers despite her intent to keep them under control, and she felt the deep sincerity of Claudia’s feelings for Tressa. If there was a conspiracy among the Masters, she was sure the healer was no part of it.

But as she escorted Tressa to the temple, Astra let herself Read for other conspirators. Could she catch someone gloating with satisfaction?

No. There were the girls she taught music, the best of the advanced class, playing sweetly and looking charming in their pink dresses. There were the priest and priestess of Selene, robed in blue and silver.

A privacy screen shielded the door to the anteroom, where the bridegroom waited gloomily, accompanied by two male Masters in their red robes. The Master Readers would Read the ceremony from there, never entering the temple of the Academy of female Readers. Only the groom, on shaking legs, had to walk out to face the assembly.

He, too, was dressed all in red-how ironic, Astra thought, that these two, who had dreamed of wearing the scarlet of Master Readers one day, should end their dreams in the red of marriage garments.

Bride and groom would now see one another for the first time, for neither one had had the desire to Read for the other, both parties enclosed in their private grief. If it was not coincidence, someone had done an amazing job of matching physical types-the young man was slightly taller than Tressa, and had the same thick black hair and black eyes. Astra suspected that when he was in a good mood those eyes would flash just as Tressa’s did. Two of a kind. Was it possible that once they were past the difficulties of this forced marriage they would find happiness together?

Astra sincerely hoped that they would.

The ceremony began. The musicians fell silent, and the priest and priestess began chanting to the goddess, first in her incarnation as the goddess of chastity, then as one of the many aspects of the Great Mother.

Astra, stationed behind Tressa, waited for the signal to remove the light bridal veil. As she leaned forward to do so, she came between the bride and groom… and smelled the scented oil he also wore.

But the man’s was different, pleasant, attractive, drawing her to turn to look at him and realize that he was very handsome indeed-

It is an aphrodisiac! Astra realized, quickly lifting Tressa’s veil away and stepping back out of range.

Still, she doubted that the powers of that oil could do much against the severe depression of the immediate participants in the ceremony. Neither of them seemed to be attracted to the other-and both were still completely closed to Reading.

They were not allowed to remain so, however. When the priest and priestess completed the wedding prayers, joined the hands of the bride and groom, and had them vow loyalty to the Goddess and to one another, there was only one more step to the ceremony. For nonReaders, that step was merely sharing a goblet of wine, first symbol of the life they would now share.

For Readers, though, the ceremony included the joining of minds as well as hands. Portia herself joined the priestess, Marina beside her with the goblet of wine. The priestess blessed the two Master Readers, and Portia began something Astra had witnessed only once before, at Helena’s wedding.

“Stephano,” Portia directed the bridegroom, “open your mind. Read your bride. Tressa, let your thoughts meet those of your husband. Read with me.”

There was no denying Portia’s command. The bride and groom began to Read, Portia drawing them and every Reader in the temple into a most beautiful soaring emotion. She captured Tressa’s wild, prancing thoughts, too spirited to tame-and Stephanos eager quickness, sharp wit, loyal courage.

The bride and groom turned to one another, startled recognition on their faces. To her joy, Astra saw them smile-the Masters had chosen well. Maybe that was why such marriages always seemed to work-

It was impossible to retain independent thought as Portia wove the two personalities together in a dreamlike pattern more compelling than any music Astra had ever heard. No Reader could resist joining in, minds circling the intertwined thoughts Portia manipulated into a promise of shared happiness.

It was far more beautiful than what Astra remembered from Helena’s wedding. She had been much younger then, unable to control her own powers at all, totally caught up in what Portia had been able to make of the weaker powers of Helena and Tranos. Stephano must be as strong a Reader as Tressa, for what Portia found to work with today engaged every Reader’s mind in a rapture such as-

Astra realized she had withdrawn from the rapport, was observing it from without, admiring but not participating, something she could not do at age twelve. As Portia’s thoughts developed, she felt strangely distanced, as if she were watching a drama. But Tressa and Stephano were not acting; for them it was all real, shared love, shared grief, shared joy.

Recognition tingled along Astra’s spine. Something she had picked up from Portia-making that poor mother see her dead baby-making her see with a Reader’s inner eye-

Making her see what was not real!

Gooseflesh rose on Astra’s body. There had been no Reader mother… now. No mother, no dead baby-and not a fever dream! A memory Portia had let slip in a moment of guilt.

And Astra knew, knew as surely as if Portia had confessed it aloud, that the mother was her mother-

that Portia had made Cassandra see Astra, her newborn infant, dead-so Portia could take the child, daughter of two strong Readers, and raise her to her own uses!

My mother didn’t desert me! Portia betrayed her- betrayed me! My mother loved me, but Portia made her Read me as dead!

Just then, “Drink,” Portia told the bride and groom, proffering the goblet.

Astra looked up, fearing to find that Portia had Read her discovery, but the Master of Masters was too caught up in what she was doing to notice.

Astra Read within herself to gain control, waiting until her pounding heart stilled. When she dared Read outward again, she refused to join in the rapport until she made sure she would not give away her thoughts. Her anger bubbled up, threatening to focus on Portia’s hypocrisy. She had to calm down!

There was nothing she could do here-nothing she could do at all until the wedding was over and she had time to think and plan.

Seeking to fix her mind elsewhere, she Read Tressa and Stephano directly in front of her. Stephano had just drunk the spiced wine, and was handing the goblet to Tressa, who drank deeply. Astra started to Read Tressa, found her still caught in the rapport Portia had created, and shied away, her Reading uncontrolled, everything flowing in on her as she fought to keep her roiling emotions out of the rapport.

Tressa, reaching for Stephanos hands, dropped the wine goblet. It still contained some wine, and Astra stepped back by reflex as it splashed toward her white dress.

And as she focused gratefully on the wine, her wild powers Read it, not just wine and spices-but beneath, something else in the wine-

To calm herself, she let curiosity take hold, her Reading powers fixed on the wine pooling on the marble floor. The analytical technique she had learned at Gaeta took over-she recognized the alcohol, cinnamon, a tiny touch of mandragora, and-

Entranced, Astra took apart every ingredient, not realizing, until a murmur and a movement of everyone in the temple recalled her to herself, that Portia had ended the beautiful marriage rapport.

At that very moment, Astra found the last ingredient in the wine, and looked up sharply in horror, to find Portia’s eyes on her even as her rebellious mind was telling her something even more terrible than Portia’s treachery to one young woman long ago-it was treachery to all the Readers the Master of Masters ordered married off, set on the Path of the Dark Moon by diminishing their powers with-

White lotus!