by Jean Lorrah
Every savage knew the danger of coming near the walls of the Aventine Empire because of the Readers therein. Near the gates of Adigia, a huge area was kept clear. Even in the blackest night, a Reader with bow and arrow could pick off anyone attempting to approach the gates.
Lenardo had stood watch atop that wall many a time. It was routine duty for boys from the Academy, from the ages of twelve to fifteen. What Arkus did not know was that with the Academy gone and only three Readers now in the town, there was no longer a Reader atop the tower at all times. There was none now, just two guards from the garrison.
Torio was gone, of course, and the three Readers who had replaced him did not know Lenardo’s situation. Two of them did not even know Lenardo, a husband and wife he Read just sitting down to their evening meal with a chubby little boy of perhaps three. It was easy to Read them, not intruding, without their being aware of him.
The third Reader was Secundus, who had been the healer at the Academy. He was a few years older than Lenardo, a quiet, gentle man who had barely achieved the rank of magister and perhaps might have been-denied it except that he was skilled at healing, and such people were always badly needed.
Secundus now had Torio’s old room at the inn and was also unaware of Lenardo’s scrutiny, being deep into a book of remedies in search of something to cure a catarrh that had so far eluded his skills.
But Arkus could not know that there was no Reader keeping watch from Adigia’s wall, and so as the sun set, he deployed his men in a semicircle just out of range of arrows shot from the gatetower. On either side, at a distance from the gate, men lurked near the wall. The rest were close enough to one another in their arc that Lenardo and Julia could not ride between any two undetected.
He considered abandoning the horses and attempting to sneak through on foot. By the time he contacted Master Clement and the message was relayed to Secundus to admit him, it would be well after midnight. Arkus’ men would be bored and sleepy.
Arkus’ men? No, not the way the young commander kept them trained. And Julia was still a child. If she was weary now, what would she be in a few more hours?
Adigia’s troops could be called out, but Lenardo did not want a battle, the slaughter of Arkus and his few men. He realized that the young man trusted him not to call out an army against seven, or not to be able to.
Julia, her supper half eaten, nodded off to sleep. Lenardo let her sleep while he thought. The nearest gate other than the one at Adigia was beyond the Western Hills, in Wulfston’s land. It would take several days of difficult travel to reach it, and with the watchers alerting everyone, he was sure that it would be well guarded before they could get there.
The next gate to the east was even farther away, in Aradia’s land. The problem was the same. The wall between them, however, passed through dense woods, areas where no one went for years at a time. He could Read places where the trees had so encroached upon the wall that it might be possible to climb over. They would have to abandon the horses, but with any luck they would be safely inside the Aventine Empire by morning.
But he must let Masters Clement and Portia know that he was coming. He Read carefully all around him to be sure no dangers could creep up on them while his attention was far away. No people between them and the gates of Adigia and none for miles in any other direction. No wild animals except some deer in the woods. The deer were skittish and nervous, but since Lenardo could Read nothing else to disturb them, he decided that he and Julia must be the cause. All around them birds were chirping, too, although it was fully dark.
With the incredible ease he had developed these past few days, Lenardo Read to Tiberium. Master Clement was in his study, deep in conversation with Portia, who was, of course, in her own room within the female Academy.
//But I found Drusina’s performance well above average,// Clement was saying. I’ll recommend that you send her for her medical training and then test her for admission to the rank of magister. I’m certain she is capable, Portia.//
//Clement, Clement, you were out there on the border too long,// Portia replied. //This girl might barely qualify in a time when there was a dearth of fine Readers-//
//There is always a dearth of fine Readers. Just last month you refused Quintus admission to magister rank, even though he passed every test. Master Tervo wept when you denied his candidate-he needed Quintus for his Academy. I need an assistant until Lenardo returns. We are old, Portia. Three Readers of the Council of Masters have died just since I returned to Tiberium. We cannot afford to set an arbitrary standard if no one can meet it. We must admit our best young Readers to the upper ranks or there will, be no one to train new Readers when we are gone.//
At Clement’s mention of his name, Lenardo almost made his presence known, but as he was about to interrupt, he Read something from Portia-a denial she was hiding from Clement. She did not expect Lenardo to return-no surprise there. But what was surprising was her faint, pervasive guilt, beginning with his mention and continuing through Clement’s plea. He felt her force it away as she said, //That is precisely why we must allow only the very best into our ranks-and Clement, you know that control is as important as strength to a Reader. These young people lack discipline. How can they discipline others?//
//Perhaps,// replied Clement, but Lenardo could sense his old master’s deep concern about Portia’s attitude.
It was that concern, along with the strange emotions he had Read from Portia, that kept Lenardo from making his presence known. Portia was Master of Masters; she headed the Council of Masters, with full veto power. The Reader who held that post was the best of all Readers, yet Lenardo was able to eavesdrop on her without detection. That could be a fluke, as her attention was elsewhere, but he should not have been able to Read feelings she hid successfully from Clement.
Both Masters were old; Lenardo wondered whether the infirmities of age could be weakening their powers, just as any other infirmity might. He had no idea.how old Portia was, but it seemed to be many years older than Clement. Was it senility? Or were her powers impaired because she had misused them? Why guilt?
Confused and ashamed at what he was thinking, Lenardo nonetheless withdrew without making contact. He would try later, when Clement was alone. His old master would know the proper way to approach Portia to use her influence for Lenardo’s safe return.
When he brought his attention back to the nearby surroundings and to Julia, she was awake. //What’s wrong, Father?//
How easily the child Read him. //Arkus is guarding the gate at Adigia. We will have to go home by a different way. It will be a difficult journey, but I’ve found a place where we can climb the wall.//
They cut cross-country at a diagonal, struggling through thick, overgrown forest as they approached the area Lenardo had Read. The trees overhead obscured the stars; the underbrush forced them to twist and turn to. find a way through. Anyone but a Reader would be certain to lose himself in such wilderness.
It was well after midnight when they finally reached the wall, leading their tired horses. Julia stumbled with weariness. Lenardo wondered whether she would be able to make the climb and had her sit down on a fallen log to rest while he stripped the horses and began to lighten their packs to what they could carry on foot. Julia slid off the log onto the mossy ground, fast asleep.
He couldn’t help smiling at the exhausted child, when suddenly one of his precognitive flashes revealed the earth heaving, trees fallingHe dropped the pack and fell on Julia, shoving her against the log and covering her with his body.
“Father, what-What’re you doing!” she protested in a child’s tired whine.
“Lie still!” he said, and then the earthquake came.
Beneath them the ground trembled; leaves and twigs rained down on them. Then they were lifted as if on an ocean wave, the log sheltering them falling away and then back as they were dropped. The horses screamed and crashed off into the woods as trees began to wave like stalks of grain. Lenardo tried to protect Julia as they were t
ossed and buffeted. Trees fell, slamming into other trees, ancient oaks tottering and ripping from their roots.
Above them, a huge mossy trunk swayed and creaked. If ever I needed Adept power-Lenardo thought, but he was powerless to do anything more than clutch Julia, trying to keep his body between her and falling debris as the monstrous trunk cracked and whipped-and broke, with a huge piece falling toward them in a majestic, slow, inevitable trajectory.
Chapter Six
In a strange suspension of emotion, Lenardo Read the giant piece of tree trunk falling, falling, turning end over end as it hurtled toward him and Julia. It would crush both of them if it struck. Helplessly, he recalled Aradia’s lesson in how an Adept would use the laws of chance. The earth was still heaving, moving Lenardo and Julia in and out of the path of the falling trunk and at the same tune making it impossible for them to run or even roll out of the way. They and the huge log they sheltered against were being tossed like snowflakes in a whirlwind.
Hopelessly he wished, he willed-and then he blanked out his oncoming death, clutching the child and Waiting. The wood was a thundering symphony of crashes, cracks, thuds, and moans, but suddenly there was a bone-penetrating whomp in chorus with a crack like a lightning bolt. Then something fell across Lenardo’s back, knocking the breath out of him and crushing Julia beneath him.
In the searing pain of struggling to breathe, it took Lenardo some time to realize that he was still alive. The earth’s quaking had settled to small tremors, slowly dying away. He heaved himself to his knees, throwing off a splintered section of the tree trunk that could have spelled his death. Then he Read Julia, badly bruised and dazed but alive and fighting for breath.
He Read her carefully, finding no broken bones or internal injuries. Her ribs were bruised, but their youthful resiliency had kept them from breaking. Lenardo could not say the same for himself. A stabbing pain in his left side told him that ribs were broken before he Read them, but fortunately they were in place. A tight bandage would hold them so that they could heal. His left ankle, though, had hit or been hit by something. No bones were broken, but it was already swelling, and it was clear that he would not be able to walk on it.
But we’re both alive, he told himself as Julia began to cough and choke and then wail with a child’s pain and fear as she regained consciousness.
He took her in his arms, saying, “It’s all right. It’s over. You’re not badly hurt, just had the breath knocked out of you. I’m here, Julia. You’re all right.”
Her hysteria subsided, and she began to Read him, feeling his broken ribs stab with every breath. //You’re hurt!//
//It’s not serious. You’ll have to help me with bandages before we can go on.//
//I wish we had Sandor here.//
//So do I, but we can get along without Adept talents.//
He let her go and tried to straighten his back. As his ribs stabbed again, he also felt a burning ache diagonally across his back. He remembered something hitting him.
//What happened?// Julia asked. //A tree was falling on us. You thought it would kill us. Why didn’t it?//
The night was too dark to see anything in the forest; the air was filled with dust raised by the quake. To Readers, though, that made no difference. Lenardo studied the destruction in their immediate area and saw that his instinct to shelter against the fallen log had been their salvation.
The huge piece of tree trunk had been falling toward them end over end. The dent in the fallen log and the splintered shafts of the trunk told Lenardo that it had hit the log end on and split into many pieces. One of those pieces had struck him, but much of the energy of its long fall had been dissipated in striking the log and splitting. This was a small piece; it might have cracked his spine but hadn’t. He would ache for days, but he was alive.
Julia Read with him and then Read him very carefully. //You lie down,// she told him. //I’ll find our packs.//
He helped her in the search by Reading, but Julia dug through the debris to their supplies. She brought the water pouch, and they each had a long drink. Then, with the aid
of Lenardo’s knife, they tore up one of his tunics, washed the many cuts and abrasions both of them were covered with, and spread them with healing salve.
Aventine salve. Lenardo had carried it with him into the savage lands but had used none in the months when Adept healing power was readily available to him. He had automatically tossed it into his pack today without thinking, but now it reminded him that he was returning to a land where healing was done with salves and potions, splints and bandages, and occasionally the surgeon’s knife. If only he could have made that treatyNo. Even the most benevolent of Adepts could not resist the lure of power. They could never be trusted-never!
Bandaging Lenardo’s ribs proved extremely difficult, for Julia’s childish hands had neither the skill nor the strength for the task. Finally he thought to knot a stick into the bandage and twist it tight and then tie it into place. Then he dared bend to bandage his ankle. It was swelling badly. How was he to climb over the wall now?
Panting from pain and exertion, Lenardo leaned back against the log and Read the wall nearby. Aventine construction was a fine art: it still stood. Furthermore, the leaning trees that he had intended to use as their bridge to freedom had fallen in the quake. They were trapped.
But no one knows where we are, he reminded himself, and everyone will be busy repairing quake damage.
He Read outward, wondering how much his injuries had impaired his powers. It was easy to Read to Adigia. The gate tower had fallen, but the wall and gates had held, as had most of the buildings in town. The farther north he Read, the less the damage. In Zendi, people were all awake, discussing the quake and looking for damage, but there was little; the center had been somewhere near where Lenardo and Julia were.
“Did Aradia and Wulfston make the earthquake to kill us?” Julia voiced the question Lenardo dared not bring to mind.
Although he had avoided Reading the Adepts, he replied, “No,” grateful now that she had made him think about it. “No, they could not. To make an earthquake, Adepts have to know where there is a fault under the earth. Then they must be much closer than from Zendi to here. No, that was a natural earthquake.”
“But you knew it was going to happen. You pushed me under the log before it started.”
“Yes. I have flashes of precognition, or prophecy, Julia. Sometimes I get a glimpse of something that is going to happen. That time it saved our lives.”
“Then you have a special talent, too. Like the way I can Read the stories things tell.”
“Yes, but I cannot control it. For example, I cannot Read tomorrow to discover how we got out of the fine mess we’re in right now.”
“Let’s Read along the wall,” she suggested. “You didn’t Read east. Maybe part of it fell down.”
Humoring the child, Lenardo Read as she suggested and found that she was right. Several miles away, there was a spot where a tree had grown up against the wall, its roots heaving the structure. Tree had weakened wall and wall tree; in the quake, both had fallen together, leaving a gap of crumbled stone large enough//We could ride our horses through there,// Julia said excitedly, Reading with him. //You won’t have to walk, Father.//
But, they Read, one of their horses was dead, struck down in its panicked flight, and the other was a good distance away, exhausted, trembling, in no condition to be ridden.
//I’ll get the horse,// Julia said. //Read with me, Father, so I won’t get lost.//
He did so, incredibly proud of the brave child venturing into the woods in the dark, soothing the animal, and bringing it back to him. The horse was used to being taken care of by people. It calmed down, accepted a drink, and remained nearby.
//Now we must rest,// Lenardo told Julia, who was shivering in the predawn chill. //Come here, child.// He wrapped her in his cloak, and in his arms. //I’m very proud of you, Julia,// he told her. //You were very brave and good tonight. Sleep now.//
Obediently, she slept. Lenardo, just as exhausted, lingered on the edge of sleep for one last Reading of their safety. He wished again for the power of Adept healing as he sought to find a position in which his injuries would not hurt. He could almost feel the soothing heat through his ankle, his ribs, across his backLenardo woke with a start when Julia pushed her way out of his arms. The sun was high in the sky, but here in the depths of the forest it was filtered to a soft green twilight. Julia gave a little moan as she stretched her bruised muscles. She was covered with dust, leaves, and twigs, and so was he.
Lenardo moved experimentally. He wasn’t as sore as he had expected. Even when he put some weight on his ankle, the pain was tolerable, and the bandages hung loose. The swelling had gone down. He rebandaged it and eased on his riding boot. With that support, he found that he could walk, although he didn’t want to walk far.
He was ravenously hungry. Julia only picked at her bread and cheese, but Lenardo ate heartily. Then, anxious to be safely on the other side of the wall, they set out, Julia riding before Lenardo on the horse.
It was slow going, with the debris of the earthquake compounding the tangle of underbrush normal to the dense forest. The tired horse plodded, and Lenardo curbed his impatience, for the animal still had a long way to carry them.
By afternoon, they reached the breach in the wall. Here they had to walk and lead the horse, who did not want to venture over the loose rubble of rocks. By the time they slipped and slid their way across, Lenardo’s ankle was sore again. He took his boot off lest the swelling force him to cut the leather off later.
Nonetheless, he breathed a sigh of relief. “We’re home.”
Julia was not impressed, for they had before them noth-I ing but the same dense forest they had been fighting their way through all day. “I’m tired,” she said, slipping back to being a child again.