Wulfston's odyssey

Chapter One

Wulfston, Lord Adept of the Savage Empire, stared out at the strange ship approaching his coastline, several miles from the harbor. A merchant vessel by the look of her-so why did he see a one-vessel invasion fleet threatening his shores? A chill that owed nothing to the cool summer evening ran down his spine as the sunset’s crimson painted the ship with shades of blood.

Gulls shrieked their disapproval at a boat being lowered from the anchored ship, the figures boarding it putting the vessels size into perspective. Even from Wulfston’s hilltop vantage point, it appeared huge and imposing.

The bay stallion Wulfston rode whinnied nervously and stamped the ground, snorting a challenge. The Lord Adept patted the beast’s massive neck. “Easy, boy. We’ll go down and see why these Visitors’ are sneaking ashore.”

Urging Storm down the hillside, Wulfston caught from the corner of his eye the flashes of the watchers’

message from a distant peak, reporting to his castle the arrival of the strange ship. He knew they would also report that the Lord of the Land was riding to investigate.

He let Storm choose the path and pace down to the beach. By the time they arrived, the boat was nearing shore. Wulfston counted eight people in it, two rowing, the others staring at him, whispering, pointing-

Cautiously, he braced his Adept powers, ready to call a greeting as soon as they were close enough to hear.

A fist of energy seized his heart!

Intense pain shot down his left arm. He realized, They’re Adepts! and shoved away the assault with his own powers. Or at least one of them is. But why are they attacking?

Storm neighed and reared as fire bolts exploded around them. Wulfston leaped from the saddle into a fighting stance, deflecting the bolts sent to consume him. Ignoring pain, he concentrated on the people clambering from the boat. A wave of his hand and three of them collapsed, asleep on the sand.

Two others fanned out in opposite directions to divide his attention, splashing through the shallow surf.

Wulfston dropped the one on the left and was turning toward the other when he realized they were diversions.

A lightning bolt shot from the sky, searing the air about him. He deflected most of its ferocity, but was enveloped in blinding light and Storm’s screams.

His vision cleared while his nostrils flared at the smell of burning meat. Fighting nausea, he concentrated his anger on the tall man standing in the boat. With one urge of fury, he knocked his opponent out of the vessel, into an oncoming wave. A glance to the right dropped the other man unconscious.

Such steady use of his powers was weakening the Lord Adept, but he dared not stop until he had subdued them all. He charged the boat, staggering as the waves pounded at his knees, gambling that he was safe from those watching from the ship.

A veiled woman and a small boy huddled in the bottom of the boat, shaking with fear. Wulfston stared into the woman’s eyes, forgetting everything-

He whirled at the sound of hoofbeats on the sand.

Lenardo and Julia pulled rein on their horses.

Lenardo’s face reflected the grimness Wulfston felt. “Are you all right?” the Lord Reader asked.

Wulfston almost laughed at the question. If anyone could tell instantly whether someone was injured, it was Lenardo.

However, he replied, “Yes, I’m all right,” surprised at the weariness in his tone. “But-”

Storm. The corpse was still smoldering. He shook his head at the senseless loss, and looked around at his captives. The man he had knocked into the water floated face down. He had to be pulled out before he drowned.

Lenardo swung from his horse and, with the ease of an active man in the prime of life, pushed past Wulfston’s weakened efforts to drag the man ashore. Wulfston didn’t have to ask if his attacker was alive; Lenardo would Read his condition and take appropriate action.

But Lenardo was demanding of Wulfston, “Why did you come out here to face these people alone?”

“I didn’t,” Wulfston replied tersely, insistently helping to drag the man ashore by his soggy cloak.

“Well, you must have had some reason to leave a celebration at your own castle and go riding this far south! I should have been Reading-”

“I was… restless,” Wulfston replied slowly, analyzing his memories. “Something… drew me to this place, to these people.”

“But why did they attack you?” Lenardo’s daughter demanded.

“I don’t know, Julia. I don’t even know who they are.”

“You don’t?” the girl asked in a puzzled tone. “But Wulfston, they’re all black-just like you!”

That fact had not escaped Wulfston’s notice, but its significance had. The strange chill touched him again, stronger than before. Why would a shipload of people come, possibly all the way from Africa, to attack the only black Lord Adept in all the Savage Empire?

The answers had to wait until the next day. Some of Wulfston’s guards and servants took the unexpected visitors back to his castle, fed them, healed those who had been injured, and put them all in guest rooms under heavy Adept guard.

Other guards rowed Wulfston and Lenardo to the merchant ship. Speaking in the tongue called Traders Common, Wulfston ordered the Nubian captain and crew to move the ship up the coast into the harbor known as Dragon’s Mouth. Having witnessed the Lord Adept’s powers, they moved quickly to comply.

Interrogating the captain revealed little; the eight who had come ashore were the only passengers, and the tall man named Sukuru-the one Wulfston had knocked into the surf-had hired the ship for this journey, his intentions never stated.

A nod from Lenardo was all the assurance Wulfston needed that the captain was telling the truth.

The moon was high when the two lords finally returned to Castle Blackwolf. Word of the brief battle had already reached everyone there, so the cook had a lavish meal waiting for the Lord of the Land by the time he sat down in the banquet hall.

Though he had eaten dinner a few hours before, the heavy use of his powers made Wulfston feel like a starving man as he rapidly consumed enough food for three.

To eat his meal in peace, he had to fend off a dozen people who wanted to fuss over him.

He succeeded with all but his sister Aradia.

“But why did you go out there in the first place?” she demanded, sitting opposite him at the table.

He looked at her testily. “Aradia, why do you ask when you know I don’t have the answer? Don’t give me that innocent look. I know you and Lenardo were in contact with each other! For the last time, I don’t know why I went riding along the cliffs, leaving a celebration I’m supposed to be hosting. Now, will you please leave me alone?”

Her look of puzzled hurt made him regret his harsh words. What is wrong with me? he asked himself.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, reaching across the table to touch her hand. “I guess I’m more upset than I want to admit. Especially losing Storm like that.”

She nodded in sympathy. Horses were still a rare and precious commodity in the Savage Empire, making the loss of such a fine stallion particularly acute.

She asked gently, “Do you think that it’s possible that you might have… Read that that ship was there?”

He shook his head. “If I could sense a strange ship several miles away-which neither Lenardo nor Julia did until they started following me-then I should be able to pick up someone’s thoughts nearby. But nothing has changed for me. I don’t know what drew me into that confrontation, but it wasn’t Reading.

I’m still your mind-blind little brother,” he said, forcing a chuckle.

Aradia returned his smile, then finally left him alone. As he watched her leave, Wulfston once again examined feelings he could not define.

For several months now, he had been plagued by dark moods and feelings of emptiness. His duties as a Lord Adept were no longer satisfying. He had decided he missed the camaraderie of the other ruling Adepts and Readers in the alliance. So when he had received the news that Aradia and Lenardo were expecting their first child, he had grasped the excuse to invite them for a celebration.

But the arrival of his friends and relatives had not eased his frustration. Indeed, he had begun to crave solitude before they had finished their first meal together! Hence the ride along the cliffs.

Was his feeling jealousy? After all, Aradia’s Adept powers hadn’t prevented her from learning to Read-the one goal in life he could not seem to achieve. Ironically, Wulfston had been the first of their group to theorize that Reading and Adept powers were the same, which Lenardo and Aradia later confirmed by gaining each other’s talents. There was no reason in the world why Wulfston couldn’t Read, but try as he would, he couldn’t.

Another pressure was that he had neither wife nor heir.

His people were beginning to express concern as their lord approached the prime of life and the peak of his powers. If he was to produce an heir, now was the time to do it, while his powers were still growing.

Lenardo would soon have two heirs, his adopted daughter Julia and his own child by Aradia. Wulfston wanted to feel joy at Lenardo’s good fortune, but his words of congratulation rang hollow.

In a castle full of family and friends, with servants to respond to his slightest whim, the Lord of the Land felt totally alone.

The next day, under guard of minor Adepts, the “visitors” from the ship were brought before Wulfston in his audience chamber.

Wulfston rarely sat on his throne, but his father Nerius had carefully taught both his son and his daughter the techniques of rule. Pomp and ceremony seemed to come more naturally to Aradia, but Wulfston felt the appropriateness of his position this day.

For several long moments he said nothing to those who had attacked him, letting them stare at the Lord of the Land and the people flanking him: Lenardo and Aradia seated in places of honor to his right, Julia and Rolf, Wulfston’s Reader, to his left. Readers and Adepts all, a formidable assembly.

Sukuru was the group’s leader, though he lacked the bearing of a Lord Adept. Authority did not sit well upon his gaunt frame, and his ebony skin seemed to blanch under Wulfston’s gaze.

It was apparent that Sukuru was badly shaken by his encounter. At first Wulfston assumed it was because he had been so easily defeated. It turned out, however, that the newcomers had not expected to find the Lord of the Land on the cliffs, wrapped in a plain woolen cloak. Rather, when they saw another black man they feared he had been sent by their enemies to thwart their expedition.

“For it is well known even unto our lands,” Sukuru explained, speaking Trader’s Common with a heavy accent, “that the most excellent Lord of the Black Wolf is a great and noble ruler. We thought to find you as you are now, most gracious lord, crowned in gold and seated upon a throne. Because of our enemies, we approached by stealth, rather than have our ship enter your harbor. Please forgive us for your injuries, and the death of your beautiful steed-”

“You are forgiven,” Wulfston said impatiently. “Tell me why you’ve come here.”

“Most excellent lord,” Sukuru explained, “we have traveled over vast distances to implore your help. The lands of Africa are held in the grip of a powerful witch queen named Z’Nelia. From her throne in Johara she spins her webs of power, ensnaring all who live there. Those who dare speak out or rebel against her harsh rule or insane proclamations are condemned to death-or to slavery.

“We who have come seeking your help represent many tribes and peoples who share a dream of freedom-freedom from Z Nelia’s tyranny. But we lack the power to depose her. Besides her own formidable powers, she has many followers with powers of their own, as well as a huge and powerful army.”

“But why would you come so far to seek my help?” Wulfston asked.

“Word of your exploits has reached our lands,” the emissary replied. “There is a song which tells of your battle against the armies of the Black Dragon, how you defeated him in single combat.”

Wulfston heard Julia smother a snicker, and knew his other friends found this exaggeration equally amusing. Indeed, he had difficulty restraining his own laughter- and realized that it felt good, the first spontaneous laughter he had enjoyed in some time.

“That song,” he explained when he could reply with dignity to match the man’s sincerity, “was created by a bard seeking favor in my court. East of here, in the city of Zendi, you would hear a much different version, celebrating the exploits of my sister and her husband.” He gestured toward Aradia and Lenardo, enjoying the puzzled look that crossed Sukuru’s face when Wulfston identified the pale blond Aradia as his sister. “In truth, it took our combined powers and those of many others to defeat Drakonius.”

“Nevertheless,” Sukuru pressed on, “yu are tne most powerful ruler in these lands. Is that not so?”

“No,” Wulfston replied patiently, “that is not so. Our alliance is so powerful because it is precisely that: an alliance. Lenardo, Aradia, Lilith, Torio, Melissa-there are many of us.”

“Then you are… merely a vassal to some higher lord?” Sukuru asked.

“No,” Wulfston said firmly. “We are allies. And if your Z’Nelia is so powerful, the only way to defeat her is to join your powers with those of others who oppose her. Surely, if she is as evil as you claim, you will easily find others to support you. Why come to our lands seeking a champion?”

“You do not understand our situation, lord,” Sukuru replied. “Let Chulaika explain.”

He gestured to the young woman Wulfston had found in the boat. She came forward hesitantly, her little boy clinging to his mother’s skirts. Chulaika was wrapped in veils, only her eyes visible, her lower face obscured by a soft dark cloth that rippled with her breath.

“Most powerful Lord,” she murmured, her voice trembling, “our people are oppressed, our men taken into slavery, our children threatened. Many of our young people that have shown strong powers have been killed- murdered by Z’Nelia because they might oppose her rule. Please, Lord Wulfston, come to our aid. Only a great lord like yourself can help us.” ‹ There was something compelling about Chulaika’s eyes. Wulfston was able to break his gaze from hers only when

Sukuru said, “You are a Son of Africa, Lord. Surely you will not refuse to help your own people?”

“My own people,” said Wulfston, “are right here. I was not born in your land, but in the Aventine Empire, where my parents were proud to have earned citizenship.” He did not add that they had been killed by their fellow citizens when their son exhibited forbidden powers.

“My people,” he continued, “are still recovering from the suffering Drakonius caused them, still learning to trust our alliance, still building a new life upon the ruins of the old. I will consult with my allies to determine what help we can offer. But you must understand that I cannot leave my lands unattended to go adventuring in yours.” Yet he had to admit, once he had so abruptly dismissed the petitioners, that perhaps his shortness was caused by temptation.

It was the conflict with Drakonius that had first brought Wulfston out of Aradia’s shadow. Furthermore, in the days of conflict decisions had been easy: they fought Drakonius, they fought the would-be usurpers who had tried to attack their alliance after his defeat, and they fought the invading Aventines. The right thing to do had been so clear then.

Nowadays it seemed he dealt only with arguments over boundaries, or charges and countercharges in business disputes. And the ever-present question o?his heir.

Wulfston decided to talk to Lenardo, who had become as close as a brother in the days when they had learned to work together against their common enemies. Somehow the Master Reader, who was hardly five years older than Wulfston, seemed to have the wisdom of the ages.

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Lenardo asked when they were alone. “You’re so braced for defense that I can’t even Read your feelings.”

“I couldn’t get the truth out of those people,” Wulfston replied, going to the other problem on his mind.

“Under all that bowing and scraping-”

“They were appealing to your ego,” said Lenardo. “When that didn’t work, Sukuru attacked your pride.”

“Oh, I got the insult, all right. Sukuru is not the clever diplomat he thinks he is.”

“Agreed.” Lenardo looked at him expectantly.

Finally Wulfston said, “Did you-? I know your Reader’s Code prevented you from probing them deeply, but surely you got some surface impressions?”

Lenardo frowned, staring at his hands. On his left glittered the ring which symbolized his marriage to Aradia, their two emblems, wolf and dragon, intertwined.

Wulfston had had the matching rings made by the finest goldsmith in his lands, as his wedding gift to his sister and her husband. While it symbolized specifically the marriage of these two, it was also emblematic of their entire alliance: neither beast could be separated from the other without breaking the ring, just as no member of their alliance dared fail the rest without endangering the existence of the Savage Empire.

Finally Lenardo said, “I think you got the same impression I did, Wulfston: our uninvited guests were telling the truth. As far as it went.”

“Meaning I didn’t ask the right question.”

“Meaning they didn’t answer it. They were very open and forthright about what they wanted you to do, but highly evasive the moment you asked why.” The Reader frowned, rubbing his neatly bearded chin as if deciding whether to confide what he had learned in a way Readers considered unscrupulous. Then he fixed dark eyes on Wulfston and said, “I wonder how much they really know? The description of Z’Nelia, for example, sounds so much like Portia-”

“To you, perhaps,” said Wulfston. “Besides, Portia was a Reader.”

“Which is why she could not act openly, as this African Adept can. But you are right, Wulfston. What made me think of Portia was the image of the spider with her webs spun throughout the kingdom. That was how Portia seemed to me, once I discovered her evil. I’m sure this Z’Nelia is quite different, probably more like Drakonius.”

“So you think we should help Sukuru and Chulaika?”

“Not until we find out what they’re hiding. The impression I got was that they are trying to use you. Their talk of freedom for their people is a sham. What they really want is the throne of Nubia-perhaps all of Africa-for themselves.”

“That ragtag band?” Wulfston snorted. “Who would sit on the throne? Sukuru? He’s only a minor Adept. “

“Yes,” agreed Lenardo, “they’re all either weak Adepts or low-level, untrained Readers. Their combined talents were nothing against you, and you’re not yet at the height of your powers. If their Z’Nelia is mature and as powerful as Drakonius was, no wonder they’re looking for help.”

“Perhaps they came here,” Wulfston suggested, “because they knew I wouldn’t be interested in claiming a throne on another continent, and so would leave it to them?”

“Unlikely. They seemed honestly amazed that we have an alliance of equals. It sounds to me as if their Adepts are still fighting one another, with the strongest subjecting all the others. So with his limited powers, I cannot see how Sukuru thinks to hold Z’Nelias throne, even if you should gain it for him.”

Wulfston nodded. “Well, Read whatever you can at dinner without breaking your Oath. Even if I cant Read, I know there’s something more than our guests have told us so far!”

Hoping to draw Sukuru and Chulaika out, Wulfston provided plenty of wine, and he and Lenardo, Julia, and Aradia told the story of the defeat of Drakonius-rather than letting the bard sing his distorted version.

Zanos and Astra, another Adept/Reader married couple, joined the group at the long table. Wulfston was rather surprised that they had nothing to say, for Z’Nelia sounded much like the sorcerers they had encountered in Madura, Zanos’ native land, from where they had recently returned. Perhaps they were biding their time, unwilling to reveal what they knew.

There were too many unrevealed secrets about that journey-especially why Torio, the blind Reader, had not returned from it. When the young man had developed the gift of prophecy, and known thereby that the woman he loved tnust seek her fortune in the frozen north, he had followed her there… and apparently lost her to Maldek, a Master Sorcerer. But then, instead of returning with Zanos and Astra, Torio had gone off on his own-to the east, Zanos had said, following some whim of his own.

And leaving Wulfston without a Reader. He had Rolf, of course, and several Magister Readers as well as numerous Dark Moon Readers who had come to work in his lands. But Torio had been friend and equal as none of these could be. Blast Torio’s prophecies anyway! What had they done but lose him Melissa and send him off to seek his fortune away from all his friends? Didn’t Torio realize his absence weakened their alliance?

But there was no use wishing for Torio. For the moment, Wulfston had Lenardo, the finest Reader ever known, to help him in this delicate situation. And Lenardo was explaining to Wulfston’s guests their entangled relationships.

“So Julia is my adopted daughter, though I don’t think either of us often remembers that she’s adopted.

Aradia is my wife, and that makes her brother Wulfston my brother, too.”

Sukuru asked, “How comes it, Lord Wulfston, that these pale folk claim you kin?”

“Ties of love may be as strong as ties of blood,” he replied. “When I was only three years old, I showed the first evidence of my powers.”

A swift glance passed from Sukuru to Chulaika. The woman had worn her veils even to the table, slipping bits of food up beneath her silken mask; so that when she caught Wulfston looking at her she dropped her eyes and he could tell nothing more of her expression.

Wulfston continued, “Aradia’s father, Nerius, stole me from the Aventine Empire, for the village folk would have murdered me for showing Adept powers in a land where only Reading was acceptable. They did kill my parents and my sister. Nerius was unable to rescue them, but he adopted me, and that is how he became my father and Aradia my sister.”

“We grew up together,” Aradia put in. “It was no different than if we had had the same parents by blood; we were playmates, we got into mischief together, and we fought and made up, just the way any other brother and sister would. Because our Adept powers set us apart from other children, we were actually closer than most brothers and sisters. I had been a very lonely child before Father brought Wulfston home.”

“And I was very young,” Wulfston added. “No, I never forgot my birth parents. Nerius had known them for a long time, and so now I can’t tell you which are my own memories and which are stories Father told me. He wanted me to remember my heritage, how proud my parents were that they had earned their way out of slavery and become Aventine citizens.” And then I developed the wrong power.

Aradia stepped into the pause. “So you see, our alliance is like a family-we love and trust one another, even when we are under attack. And now that we are safe and secure, with our friends to protect us from unforeseen dangers, Lenardo and I are having our own child. She will not be only our daughter; she will be Julia’s sister, and Wulfston’s niece. That is the kind of family alliance you must have to fight a tyrant.”

Sukuru nodded. “Yes, we understand, although I must confess I am amazed. Perhaps, then, most gracious Lord, you will advise us in our quest? Explain to us how powerful rulers may be made to work together instead of battling one another?”

“Not all can,” replied Wulfston. “Some of our supposed allies proved false. They were with us when they thought we had a chance of winning, but turned to Drakonius when he seemed to have the advantage.

But if you can find leaders who understand that striving for the good of their people is what keeps them strong, those are the lords who will aid you in your cause to rid your land of a tyrant.”

Sukuru rose, and bowed to Wulfston. “We will heed your advice, most excellent Lord. Now”-he gestured to one of his retainers, who had stood guard near the door to the great hall all through the meal-“let us present you with a wine of our country-a toast to our success in gaining from you the means to save our land!”

The man handed Sukuru an ornate vessel, slim and beautifully shaped, with two handles near the narrow mouth. This wine bottle could not sit on the table, for the bottom was pointed rather than flat. It appeared to be of fired clay, but it was painted in brilliant colors that flashed like jewels.

Once the wax seal had been broken all the wine had to be poured out. Everyone at the table received a generous portion. Sukuru raised his goblet. “To the defeat of Z’Nelia- and anything we must do to free our land from her evil!”

The wine was sweet, and heavily spiced; they would need no sweet to end their meal.

Suddenly Aradia, who was seated between Wulfston and Lenardo, leaned over and whispered in her brother’s ear, “Come to our room after dinner. Lenardo has Read something.”

Wulfston leaned forward to look at his sister’s husband, but Lenardo was taking a drink of wine.

Obviously he did not want their guests to know what he had discovered.

Wulfston took another swallow of wine and realized that the sweet spiciness was creating thirst more than quench-ing it. And he should drink no more wine; he’d had enough during all the toasts.

He deliberately set his cup aside, and signaled to his butler. “Get a dryer wine from the cellars,” he instructed, “and some fruit juice for me.”

“And for me,” Aradia put in. “I should not drink more wine tonight, either.”

Eager to know what Lenardo had found out-and frustrated at the knowledge that the Readers at his table already knew it-Wulfston wished he could cut the dinner short. But protocol demanded that sweets and fruits be offered, and then entertainment provided.

His impatience grew as his musicians performed, and he found himself yawning. He was bored with the music. Well, what was the good of being Lord of the Land if he couldn’t stop the entertainment when he grew tired of it?

At the end of a piece he rose. “Thank you for your fine music, my friends. Jareth, take them off and reward them suitably. Now, though, I know our guests are tired. My servants are available for anything you might need.”

They dispersed to their own rooms. Wulfston took off his crown and chains of office, as well as the heavily embroidered tabard he had worn for the state dinner. Wrapped in a light woolen robe against the castle’s chill, he felt much more comfortable. In fact almost too comfortable…

He was cold-cold and clammy. His head ached, and when he moved it hurt even more. Forcing his eyes open a slit, Wulfston groaned at the stab of pain from sunlight piercing his brain.

He lay still, calling up healing heat, and almost fell asleep again as it did its work. Finally, though, the poisons in his blood were purged, and he rose to his feet.

Although the sun was high in the sky, the castle was silent.

In the hallway the guard slumped against the wall, so deep in sleep that Wulfston had to touch him to be sure he wasn’t dead. The man woke at his touch, though; he had been put to sleep with Adept powers, not drugged.

“Go-wake the other guards and secure the castle!” Wulfston instructed, and hurried down the stairs.

We are wide open for attack!

In the great hall the board still sat with the crumb-laden cloth upon it. Most of the dishes had been cleared away, but the wine goblets stood at their place. Those where Sukuru and his people had sat were still full.

Whatever Lenardo had Read when Sukuru had handed out the wine had been a ruse-something to attract the attention of all the Readers, so that no one would think to Read the wine.

In the kitchen, Wulfston found the fire out, and Jareth sprawled on the floor. There was no sign of the musicians.

He touched his retainer, and the older man moaned softly as he tried to wake up. He probably drank more of the spiced wine than I did. Wulfston thought, and sent healing fire to cleanse the man’s blood.

Jareth slumped back to sleep.

As Wulfston turned away, his cook came running into the kitchen in her nightgown. “Oh, me lord! What’s happened? No one woke this morning-not one of the servants is up!”

“It’s not your fault,” he assured her. “Sukuru put everyone into Adept sleep. Make a big pot of strong tea, and start breakfast. Jareth should waken soon. Send him to wake up everyone at the dairy and the stables.”

Wulfston, meanwhile, dashed back up the stairs. As he expected, he found Sukuru’s room empty.

Foreboding in his heart, he knocked at the door to Lenardo and Aradia’s room. When there was no response, he opened the door, passed their servants sleeping soundly in the anteroom, and went into the inner chamber.

Aradia lay alone in the bed, her pale hair spread neatly across the pillow as if she had not moved all night long.

Wulfston touched her brow, letting healing power flow before he placed a fingertip gently between her eyes.

His sister blinked up at him. “Wulfston what-? Why have I slept so late?” She sat up, looking around.

“Where’s Lenardo?”

“Aradia, we were drugged,” Wulfston explained. “The wine Sukuru served us-”

“Drugged?!” Aradia’s naturally pale skin grew bone-white, and she clutched her arms across her abdomen. “The baby! Oh, Wulfston-get Lenardo to Read whether our baby’s been harmed!”

“I don’t know where he’s gone,” Wulfston replied.

“Aradia? Wulfston?” It was Julia’s voice at the door to the adjoining chamber.

“Julia, come in!” Aradia cried. “Can you Read where Lenardo is?”

“Not in the castle,” the girl replied at once. “What’s the matter?”

“Please,” Aradia told her, “Read the baby-see if she’s been poisoned.”

“Poisoned!” Julia’s eyes grew round with horror, but she laid a hand on Aradia’s only slightly swelling abdomen and concentrated. “No,” she said at last. “I can’t Read anything but a healthy baby, Aradia, and I’m sure Father will confirm that.”

“You don’t have a headache, Aradia,” Wulfston realized. “Your body instinctively protected your child.

You probably went directly into healing sleep and purged the poison from your blood at once. The drug knocked me out so completely that I couldn’t cleanse it away until I woke this morning.”

“I took only a small taste of the wine,” said Aradia. “But where is Lenardo?” she demanded.

“Wulfston-?”

“Our uninvited guests have gone,” he replied. “Perhaps he followed them. ” But he braced himself so that neither woman could Read him, knowing that if the drug had kept someone with Wulfston’s Adept powers unconscious all night, Lenardo would not have been the one to waken first.

Julia had taken on the abstract look of a Reader seeking something far away. “I can Read as far as the harbor,” she said, “and I can’t find Father anywhere.” Then she gasped, and her eyes focused on Wulfston’s face. “The ship! Wulfston, the ship is gone!”

Julia’s powers, while impressive for so young a Reader, could not extend far out to sea. So Wulfston went to waken Zanos and Astra, for Astra was a Magister Reader who would be taking the tests for the Master level someday soon. If necessary, she could leave her body to Read for the ship, a skill Julia was not quite old enough to begin learning.

By this time, Zanos and Astra had been wakened by their servants and had cleansed the effects of the drug from their own bodies. When Wulfston told them what had happened, Astra said, “You think they kidnapped Lenardo? Why would they do that?”

“They drugged us,” said Zanos. “I wouldn’t put anything past people who would do that-and then steal a man away from his family.” He picked up the sword which lay ready beside his bed, ready to set out to Lenardo’s rescue.

“First find out if he’s on that ship,” said Wulfston.

“Of course.” Astra concentrated, her rmsband standing guard while her attention was elsewhere. While Astra was typically Aventine, tall and slender, with dark hair and eyes, Zanos was Maduran-a huge, red-haired man a head taller than Wulfston, with the well-developed body of a gladiator.

That had been his profession, but he was far from the stereotype of the stupid warrior. Still, Zanos was an uncomplicated man, strong in his loyalties, devoted to his wife, and determined when he set his mind to something.

Zanos and Astra were here as representatives of Lilith, a

Lady Adept whose lands lay several days’ ride to the north. Hers were the border lands, where there was still the danger of attack from those who sought to test the vulnerability of the unwieldy amalgam of former Aventine Empire and savage lands.

Had it not been for Zanos and Astra, Lilith would have lost her castle to marauders three years ago, when she and her son were away helping their allies to the south. Thus Lilith was determined to stay home now, because she had promised Aradia that later, when she came close to her time, Lilith would come to see her through the birth of her first child.

Wulfston watched Zanos and Astra, wishing again that he could Read-if only just as well as Zanos or Aradia, for even the smallest ability allowed one to “listen in,” as it were, to a stronger Reader. Thus Zanos would be Reading through Astra now, as he stood by her protectively. He would know at once what she found out about Lenardo, while Wulfston had to wait impatiently for them to tell him.

Finally Astra cried, “I’ve found the ship. Lenardo is on board. He is locked in the hold, but he’s still asleep. I couldn’t waken him. Sukuru has added Adept sleep to the effects of the drug.”

“Mawort damn them to the torture pit!” said Zanos. “Lord Wulfston, I’m ready to help you rescue Lord Lenardo. Astra?”

“Of course,” she replied. “How soon can you get a ship ready, my lord? With the Adept power we can command we’ll soon overtake them. The important thing is not to let them get out of Reading range, since we don’t know where in Africa they’re going.”

“Just let me get my hands on that Sukuru,” muttered Zanos, and Wulfston recognized that he was controlling fury. For a moment he didn’t understand Zanos’ concern over a man who was only an acquaintance, but then he remembered that the gladiator had been stolen from his own homeland as a child and, like Wulfston’s own parents, sold into slavery in the Aventine Empire. There he had been trained to fight in the arena, forced to earn again the freedom he had been born to.

“I’ll call for a ship,” said Wulfston, and hurried downstairs. Jareth was now awake and alert, and he set the man to making arrangements while he went to tell Aradia-

“Most excellent lord.”

Wulfston whirled at the soft voice speaking from a shadowed alcove.

The veiled woman, Chulaika, stood with her child huddled against her.

“You! What is the meaning of this?” Wulfston demanded.

“I have stayed to guide you, most excellent Lord,” she replied firmly, although he could see the fear behind the determination in her eyes. “You will need my help during your long journey to Africa.”

“So!” he breathed. “Sukuru kidnapped Lenardo in order to force me into your conflict with Z’Nelia. Well, you’ve underestimated us, woman! Lenardo’s not our only good Reader. We’ve already found the ship, and we’ll catch up with it by sundown.”

“Begging your pardon, Lord Wulfston, but you will not. You will need my guidance to find Sukuru-and to rescue your sister’s husband.”

“Never mind,” he said impatiently. “Go pack your things. You’re going with us, so I can hand you back to Sukuru. And frankly, I don’t care what he does with you!”

As he turned away from her, Chulaika said, “Pack for a journey, Lord Wulfston. If you do not, you will find yourself in a far country with naught but the clothes on your back.”

Wulfston quickly dressed for travel, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid Aradia. She came into his room as he was turning his small private coffer out onto the bed. There were enough gold and silver coins to buy anything he might need, should Chulaika’s warning prove true.

Aradia wore a serviceable light woolen gown in her favorite violet, which matched her eyes. Her hair was braided and bound simply about her head, and she carried a hooded cloak. “Hurry, Wulfston,” she said, sounding just the way she had when they were children. “We don’t want to miss the tide!”

“Aradia-”

“I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not, ‘ he told her firmly.

“Wulfston, it’s my husband they’ve taken!”

“And that’s his child you’re carrying/’ he countered. “You were fortunate that the drug did not harm the baby- for Sukuru still let you drink it after he knew you were pregnant. You don’t know what these people are capable of if they have no care for the health of an unborn babe. Will you be as careless as they are? Will you take your child into the midst of Adept conflict?”

“I can take care of my baby and myself,” Aradia insisted. Not wanting to argue, Wulfston turned away from her angry glare and began putting the coins into a leather pouch.

Suddenly his muscles went stiff, as Aradia sought to prove her strength by controlling him. He should have expected it, it was something she had often done to win an argument when they were children. Her powers had always been superior, as she was five years older than he.

But this time it took only a moment’s concentration for Wulfston to shake off Aradia’s Adept hold.

He turned swiftly, showing her plainly that her strength was waning with her pregnancy. “You see?

Aradia, you just don’t have your full powers right now.”

But as he saw tears spring to her eyes he moved quickly to comfort her. “Please… we both know it’s best that you stay here. J know it won’t help for me to tell you not to worry, but I promise you this: I will bring Lenardo back to you, safe and sound. I swear it!”

Captain Laren, owner of the Night Queen, had more than a few objections to his ships being pressed into service as a pursuit vessel. But he needed continued use of Dragon’s Mouth for his merchant business, so a deal was quickly struck.

Wulfston boarded ship with Zanos, Astra, and a number of his own people. Even old Huber, a grizzled warrior who was a water talent, volunteered for the mission. Wulfston put Chulaika and her son in the boat in which he was rowed out to the Night Queen-just in time to sail with the tide.

“You see?” he told her. “My people always work together. We’ll easily catch up to Sukuru, and trade you for Lenardo.”

“You will see,” was all the woman would say from under her veil.

Since Wulfston was the only one on board with weather-changing talents, the other Adepts supported him as he created a strong wind that quickly carried the ship out to sea.

But as the shoreline vanished, Zanos said, “We can’t keep this up much longer, Lord Wulfston. We’ll be exhausted by the time we catch up with Sukuru’s ship.”

“You’re right,” Wulfston conceded, letting the wind die down. “We must conserve our strength. This is going to take longer than I thought, and Sukuru isn’t going to give up Lenardo without some…

‘persuasion.’ ‘

“Perhaps we can use natural weather conditions,” Astra suggested. “I can Read a minor squall building south of here. If we could guide its winds this way, it would take much less work to catch Sukuru.”

Wulfston nodded. “A good suggestion, Astra. Let’s try it.”

By the time the brisk stormwinds filled the Night Queens

Sails, the sun was on the western horizon. Some minutes later, a tiny black dot could be seen in the center of the crimson sphere.

“She’s still several hours ahead of us, Lord Wulfston!” the captain called out over the cheering. “We won’t catch ‘er till after midnight!”

“But we will catch them,” Wulfston replied, glancing at Chulaika. She avoided his eyes as she lifted her son into her arms.

CRACK! A bolt of lightning struck the mainmast, sending down a shower of splinters.

“It’s Sukuru!” Zanos bellowed. “He’s turning the storm against us!”

A second bolt struck the bow before Wulfston could move to deflect it. Flames sprang up in the foredeck, but the Lord Adept extinguished them with a moment’s concentration.

“Combine your powers to shield the ship!” he commanded the Adepts. If he could put everyone on Sukuru’s ship to sleep-

Another loud CRACK! came from the mainmast, this time from within. The captain barked out orders. s Astra cried out, “The mast! It’s going to-”

It split diagonally, the upper half becoming a spear hurtling down at Wulfston’s people. Trying to work with gravity, he put his powers to angling the missile away from the people aboard.

Zanos and two of the other Adepts added their strength to his, but it was not enough to send the debris over the side. The jagged point ripped through the starboard side of the deck and came out the hull, just below the waterline.

Captain Laren shouted, “Hard to port! We’ll have to make it to one of the Turtle Islands and beach er, or we’ll sink for sure!”

Wulfston started to object, but knew the captain was right. The Adepts could do little more than keep the ship afloat for a league or so, until they reached shallow waters. And then at least a day would be spent making repairs.

Very clever, Sukuru, But you won’t escape me!

While Huber and the others helped the crewmen make temporary repairs, Wulfston strode angrily to Chulaika, who was still holding her son, still avoiding his eyes… but somehow seemed less fearful of the Lord Adept than she had been before.

“Very well, woman. Tell me were Sukuru is taking Lenardo.”

“Show me your charts,” she replied, “and I will plot your course.” At least she had the dignity not to say

“I told you so.”

Later, Wulfston stood watching the sun set. Astra and Zanos joined him. “Don’t worry,” said Zanos,

“we’ll catch up and rescue Lenardo.”

Wulfston nodded. “Yes, but we may have to go all the way to Africa to do it. I’ve been trying all day not to think about the prophecy Torio made before he left with you for Madura. He told me, ‘Your fate is linked with Lenardo’s, but it is your own destiny you will seek far away, only to find where you began.’

So here I am, sailing far away because of Lenardo. I wonder-what does the rest of the prophecy mean? Does ‘where I first began’ mean Nubia, the land of my ancestors? I don’t know anything about it!

I may look like Sukuru and the other black people, but they are not my people. If my destiny truly lies among them, will I ever see home again?”