by Jean Lorrah
As he sweated in the steam of the hot bath, his body relaxed and his mind wandered…back to a time at, Castle Nerius just after Aradia had healed his branded arm. Pain and infection were gone, but Lenardo was still very weak. Aradia had insisted on bathing him, her hands soft on his bodyHe pulled himself out of his reverie; such suggestive memories would not do! He missed Aradia and looked forward to seeing her again, but only as a friend, he instructed himself sharply.
Proceeding to the warm bath, Lenardo briskly scrubbed himself down. A group of young boys were spreading-soapy water on the marble and running and sliding down one side of the shallow pool. He smiled at their antics but could not overcome his teacher’s training.
“Don’t you boys leave without rinsing all that soap away,” he warned them. “You wouldn’t want anyone to slip and fall.”
Their momentary resentment turned to embarrassment when they recognized who had called them down. The intrusion of the adult world spoiled their fun, and with a “Yes, my lord,” they cleaned up the soap and left. Lenardo could hear their voices echoing down the hall and the shouts and splashes as they jumped into the frigidarium pool.
NonReaders, nonAdepts-how young and free they were. They could do anything they wanted with their livesAnd so can I, Lenardo reminded himself, rinsing off in the warm water. They will choose responsibilities, limit their lives as everyone must.
He immersed himself up to his chin, and a fragmented vision rose before his eyes, fleeting and incomplete. He and Aradia, bathing together, laughing like children, flushed with desire.
It was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving Lenardo with the sensation of arousal. He fought it down, glad that he was alone. Fragmentary as it was, the vision had all the impact of one of his precognitive flashes, but it could not be true. He could not allow himself to desire Aradia. Even if he did, there could never be fulfillment of desire. She would never risk her powers. No, it was a fantasy, not a vision, and he put it firmly out of his mind.
The festival was Helmuth’s responsibility. People from all over the land planned to come to the capital, for most had not yet seen their new lord. Lenardo’s watchers worked harder than ever before to spread the news. The watchers were the savage means of sending messages in code, through lights flashed from one hilltop to another. Within a day, everyone in the land knew of the planned festivities.
The three Adepts sent whole trains of grain, fruit, wine, and cider; wagonloads of meat and fish; and herds of sheep and swine. The all-important feast would lack for nothing.
But while Zendi might house its people for the winter in minimum discomfort, there were no proper accommodations for a Lord and two Ladies Adept. Lenardo could provide a house for each but no furnishings. Even in his own house, he had the only bed. Julia’s room had a couch that she would outgrow in a year or two, and everyone else still slept on pallets on the floor.
Helmuth had an answer. “Pavilions,” he said. “Lord Wulfston thought of it, my lord. He sent a wagon full of blue, white, and black silk. The women wanted to make dresses of it, but I recognized Aradia’s and Lilith’s colors, and I assume Lord Wulfston has rather appropriately adopted black.”
“Where would Wulfston get all that silk?” “He has a seaport, my lord. Merchants call there all the time. Tis a good thing you’re allies. You can negotiate free passage between Zendi and the sea.”
Lenardo sighed. “Always more plotting. Pavilions?^’ ‘ ‘When a Lord Adept makes a progress through his own land-not a march to battle but for some other purpose-he often sets up a silk pavilion as his quarters. Your guests will be appropriately housed. We can put the pavilions in the forum, and the Lords Adept can use their own travel goods inside them. Arkus and Josa will be busy, but we have others now who will see that rain does not spoil anyone’s comfort.”
“Very well, Helmuth. I leave it in your hands.”
“As you should, my lord. Now, what about your own color, for banners? And your symbol?”
“You, too? The seamstress was in here this morning, pestering me about formal attire. I am a Master Reader, and so I shall wear scarlet robes. There was enough material in the supplies we brought with us. Perhaps scarlet banners-”
“No,” said Helmuth, “white banners with the scarlet dragon.”
“Not the dragon,” Lenardo insisted. “That-was Drakonius’s symbol.”
“The black dragon, on gold banners-and you’ve not seen a single one left in your land, have you? All burnt, the moment people knew Drakonius was dead.”
“Precisely why I should choose another symbol.”
“But you carry the red dragon on your arm, my lord-always. People take it as a sign.”
“Helmuth, everyone knows it’s nothing but the brand of an Aventine Exile.”
“No, my lord. People say you were born with the mark, born to defeat Drakonius, to change the black dragon of terror to the red dragon of good fortune.”
“What utter nonsense.”
“No, it is not nonsense. Your people believe that their destiny and yours are bound up together. You should encourage such beliefs, for who is to say they are wrong? There is an old saying: In the day of the white wolf and the red dragon, there shall be peace throughout the world. Aradia is the white wolf. You are the red dragon, the thing that cannot be, a Reader Lord in a land of Adepts. You are marked with the sign, my lord. Do not deny it.”
Wulfston was the first of Lenardo’s guests to arrive. He came in style, at the head of his army, dressed in rich brown velvet embroidered in gold, riding a fine bay stallion. His banners bore the wolf’s head, but in black on a white field. Lenardo was waiting for him in the forum, with Julia at his side. The girl still had some trouble visualizing what she Read. When Wulfston first came in sight, she gave a start.
//I’ve never seen a man all black like that before. Aren’t you frightened, Master Lenardo?//
//Of course not. Lord Wulfston is our friend.//
//But I can’t Read him!//
//Lords Adept cannot be Read, Julia. Considering your propensity for mischief, that is probably a very good thing.//
He stepped forward as Wulfston dismounted, and they exchanged formal greetings for the benefit of the gathered crowd. Julia managed a rather shaky curtsy, watching Wulfston warily. The fact that this was the first person she’d met whom she could not Read bothered her far more than his appearance.
Wulfston walked with Lenardo and Julia back to their house, maintaining formality for the staring crowds. Once they were inside, though, Lenardo found himself caught up in a bear hug.
“My, but I’m glad to see you,” Wulfston exclaimed. “I missed you almost as much as Aradia.” He held Lenardo at arm’s length, looking him up and down. “But you look wonderful. Ruling agrees with you, eh? And your people. I don’t have to Read to tell how they love you already.”
“They’d respond favorably to anyone after Drakonius.”
Wulfston laughed. “I won’t frighten you with all the mistakes you could have made, but you’ve had good luck, too. Especially in finding an apprentice Reader.” When he turned to Julia, she stepped back hesitantly, and Wulfston said, “What’s this? Surely you’re not afraid of me? From what Lenardo told me, I didn’t think you’d fear the ghost-king himself!”
He had instinctively taken the right tack. Julia bridled. “I’m not afraid of anyone.”
“Then come and greet me properly, child.” When he held out his arms to her, she launched herself into his embrace and was picked up easily, corning to rest astride his hip, her head on his shoulder, blissfully at home.
Wulfston hugged her and continued to carry her effortlessly as they walked through the house to Lenardo’s room. “What a joy this child must be to you, Lenardo. I can remember Nerius carrying me just this way. I always felt completely safe.”
“Master Lenardo doesn’t like to hold me,” Julia informed him.
Wulfston cast a puzzled glance at Lenardo, who said, “Julia is a Reader. I’ve explained to you-�
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“But she’s just a child,” said Wulfston, sitting down and establishing Julia on his lap. “Surely at her age-” Then he said apologetically; “Lenardo, if I’m interfering in your discipline, I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
“It’s all right,” said Lenardo, sitting down opposite them. “Julia will outgrow her compulsion to touch as her Reading ability develops. What upset her at first was that she can’t Read you.” Yet he felt a remote twinge of jealousy as he watched Julia settle happily.
“I can Read you now, my lord,” she said, “at least what you’re feeling. You’re awfully nice.”
“You caught me in a good mood,” Wulfstone teased, no more taken in by her flattery than Lenardo. Yet it seemed that Wulfston automatically knew more of what Julia needed just now than Lenardo did. No, not what she needs. What she wants.
Julia lifted Wulfston’s pendant. “Look, Master Lenardo, just like yours!” Then she held it against her cheek, saying, “No, it tells a different story.” “Hmm?” Wulfston looked to Lenardo for clarification.
But Lenardo was just as puzzled. “What do you mean, Julia?”
“When I hold yours, it tells me about you… and an old man, a great Lord Adept… and a soldier, lots of battles-and then another soldier. I never went back any further because he died.”
Lenardo felt the tingle of discovery. “Wulfston, do you mind if Julia Reads your wolf-stone? She could have gotten the history of mine from me, but I don’t know how, as I’ve had no occasion to think about it.”
“How can anyone Read a stone?” Wulfston asked.
“Let her try.”
“You’ve been building a castle,” said Julia. “Before that, another castle… the same old man-battle-he dies-terrible sorrow. He was your father. Before that, years of sadness… back further, great happiness. You and a little girl-such fun! I wish I could play with those children! People call them… Nerius’ black and white wolf cubs. Further back you’re a little boy, way younger than me. You draw the stone to you-terrible fear! Loss!”
“Stop, child,” said Wulfston. With trembling hands, he extricated the stone from her clasp and then looked at Lenardo. “Can you do that?”
“No. It is a rare talent. I didn’t know Julia had it until right now. That part about the wolf cubs-I never heard that before. And Julia cannot Read you.”
“You can’t Read things?” Julia asked Lenardo in astonishment.
“Not that way, Julia, not to tell their history. When I left the empire, of all Readers there were only three with that talent.”
“Can nonReaders have it?” Wulfston asked.
“Yes, very rarely.
Wulfston nodded. “Like the many people with a single Adept talent.”
“In a way, except that Reading is really a single talent, and one’s skills are a matter of degree. Only two skills-this ability to Read the history of an inanimate object and the power of prophecy-never appear without the basic ability to Read thoughts. It’s fortunate for me, though, that the varying Adept talents exist. Having none myself would put me at a great disadvantage were it not for all the people willing to use theirs to aid me.”
“A lord who knows everything about everybody is as powerful as a lord who can do anything to anybody,” said Wulfston.
“People don’t seem to mind that much,” Lenardo replied. “When they first find out, they panic. But soon they learn that I don’t care about their fantasies, their memories-” “But they know you’d care about a plot to sieze power or to hurt or cheat people. You’re better off than an Adept, Lenardo. You can stop such things when they begin. I can only punish after the fact.”
“Master Lenardo hardly never-ever-punishes nobody,” said Julia.
“Yet there is order in his lands, Julia. You grow up to be, just like him, and someday you will be a great ruler, too.”
Lenardo was finding the role of “great ruler” as awkward as an ill-fitting garment. Alone with Wulfston, and later Lilith, as cool and placid as ever in her blue traveling gown, he felt comfortable, at home among equals. But on display before his people, formally greeting his guests, he felt like a child playing a game and doing it badly.
Aradia was the last to arrive, in the greatest splendor, all in white-by some Adept power kept free of the dust of the road-and wearing her crown of twisted gold.
//Oh, isn’t she beautiful!! was Julia’s reaction. //She looks like the queen of all the world.//
But Aradia, too, shed her formality the moment they were away from the crowd, hugging Lilith and Lenardo and then throwing herself into Wulfston’s arms. “How I’ve missed you, little brother. Oh, how fine you look-a true prince.” She turned but remained standing with one arm about Wulfston’s waist. “Lenardo, you’ve done wonders. And what audacity, to hold the first celebration when you had the worst conditions to overcome.”
“We’ve made a good start,” he replied. “I hope you’re willing to put up with some lack of elegance if not discomfort. In all this city, there were not four complete chairs, but by cobbling together some pieces, I’ve managed so that we can all sit down together.”
Lilith said, “The pavilions are a charming idea. Quite proper, if not the usual accommodations one receives in a city.”
“You can thank Wulfston and Helmuth for them.”
As they sat down, Julia hovered near Lenardo, staring in awe at Aradia. She had been presented to give her curtsy in the forum, but now Aradia said, “Your apprentice, Lenardo-what a beautiful child… and a Reader.”
“She was almost killed for revealing her ability, even after I was ruling here.”
“Yes,” said Aradia. “When you wrote me about it, I realized that people still had their old prejudices. I sent out a decree that no child who showed Reading talent was to be harmed, upon pain of death. If we find any, will you train them, Lenardo?”
“I’ll have to,” he said. “Until we make peace with the empire, there’s no one else to do it.”
“Of course I sent out the same decree,” said Wulfston.
“And I,” said Lilith, “but we have found none.”
“In all the population of Zendi,” said Lenardo, “Julia is the only Reader I’ve discovered, and there were empire citizens trapped here when Drakonius took the city twenty-five years ago. In the empire, about one person in ten has some degree of Reading ability. Perhaps one in ten has some Adept talent, but only a few, like yourselves, have the full array of powers. I think over many generations, people carrying Adept powers in the empire have been killed off, while out here those who bear the Reading strain were killed. Both are clearly hereditary. I don’t think you will find many Readers, because the strain has almost been killed off.”
“What would happen,” asked Julia, “if a Reader and an Adept had a baby? Maybe the child would have both powers.” She paused thoughtfully. “Lord Wulfston, will you marry me?”
“How old did you say you are, Julia?”
“Eight.”
“Ask me again in ten years.”
But when the laughter had faded, Aradia said, “How nice it would be if we were all Readers. Letters are not the same as being together. I think Reading would be much better, almost the same as really meeting.”
“It is the same,” said Lenardo. “Better than-” He cut off, wishing that he could recall the words, for it was clear from the faces of the three Adepts that they understood: Better than really being with people who cannot Read.
“Then Julia is an even greater blessing to you than I realized,” Aradia said tightly. “Have you been terribly lonely among us, Lenardo?”
“No, I haven’t,” he replied honestly. “I expected to be. Lack of contact with other Readers should be the worst part of exile, but I have found I can make friends with nonReaders, very close and dear friends. Aradia, the fact is that ever since I met you-and Wulfston-I may have been angry, frustrated, fearful… but the one thing I haven’t been is lonely. I have missed you, though. I keep feeling our separation is temporary, when
I know that from now on we will meet only infrequently.” “Perhaps not,” Aradia said thoughtfully. “What are you plotting, Aradia?” Wulfston asked. “Suppose the four of us were more than allies? Between us, we hold the largest area under one rule outside the Aventine Empire.”
“But we are not under one rule,” Lilith pointed out. “We could be,” Aradia replied. “We could form a central government, pool our resources, and be safe from any upstart, even one with the power of a Drakonius or a Nerius.”
“But under whose rule would that central government exist?” Wulfston asked. “A beast with two heads tears itself apart. A beast with/owr heads-”
“I don’t mean something like the Aventine Empire,” Aradia protested. “Not a hereditary ruler. Certainly no such foolishness as a senate elected by the common people. No, I’m talking about a natural government by those with power, a government of Lords Adept… and Readers.” “You have not answered Wulfston’s objection,” Lilith observed. “The four of us get on as friends and allies, but if we pooled our lands and attempted to govern as a body, we would soon quarrel over laws, projects, whose people were getting the most favors. Wulfston is right. It would tear us apart, Aradia.”
“Obviously,” said Aradia, “someone would have to be superior to the others, to decide when all could not agree. The strongest Adept-”
“Excellent, sister,” said Wulfston. “I shall work diligently for the next few years, for by the time you form this government, I may well be the strongest Adept.”
Sensing anger building and fearing any disagreement that might hinder his plan to attempt a treaty with the empire, Lenardo broke in, carefully keeping his voice at that pitch of total rationality that indicates the proposal of something completely absurd. “No, you are both wrong. Obviously, a Reader ought to head this new government. Only a Reader can truly know what the people want and need.”
The three Adepts stared, taking him seriously for a moment. Then Julia chimed in, “The best Reader, and that’s me! I have Reading powers Master Lenardo doesn’t.”