Savage Empire se-1

by Jean Lorrah

  “Physical things? Yes. No one can block that.”

  “What help you will be at healing!” she exclaimed.

  He had never heard of savages healing or using then-powers for anything but destruction. Could Galen be right? But this was an opportunity to gain her trust, without doing anything that might harm the empire. “I will be glad to repay your kindness by helping you at healing.” Perhaps he could gain enough freedom of movement thereby to search for Galen.

  Aradia was doing something with her hands over the broken rib, frowning in concentration. He felt heat within the bone, Read-and found that it had knit! It was not completely healed, but the strength was there, the pain gone!

  “None of the rest of these scrapes and bruises are serious,” she said. “Now let me heal your arm.”

  She lifted the arm as Wulfston pulled the blankets back over Lenardo. He had braced for pain when she touched it, but he felt nothing. It was as if it were someone else’s arm.

  “There is nothing you can do,” he said. “It’s already dead.”

  “Oh, no-you don’t feel the pain because Wulfston blocked the nerves at your shoulder, so you would not suffer on the journey here. Can you Read for me how deep the infection goes?”

  “The entire arm-and the poisons are in the blood. Surely if you practice healing you know the meaning of those red streaks. If you want to save my fife, you will have to cut off my arm.”

  Both Aradia and Wulfston were shielded against Reading of their thoughts, but Lenardo’s empathy picked up their horror and disgust at his words. “You call us savages?” demanded Aradia. “You, who come from a land where they do that to a man?” She pointed to the brand.

  “What of the tortures you inflict on your prisoners?” he countered.

  “Tortures? We have no need of torture. I do not know what you have been told of us, Lenardo, but the only people you will find in my land bearing marks of torture come from other lands��� and some bear the same mark you do!”

  The shock of his experience was beginning to dull his senses. “What of your bandits?” he asked weakly.

  “I suppose no one ever breaks the law in the Aventine Empire? How did you come to be here? But come now, you are tired. You must rest and heal.”

  Aradia’s hands moved gently over the bloated flesh, and Lenardo felt something-not pain, but the warmth he had felt in his broken rib, intensified. “It is the desire of the body to be whole,” she said. “It is the desire of the body to be well, to cast out all poisons, to heal, the flesh clean and free of taint.” Her voice continued, but he could no longer understand her words.

  The warmth in his arm became a fire-a cleansing, purifying flame. It was the strangest sensation he had ever known-a terrible, intense heat, without pain. His arm should have been charred into ashes; instead, he Read the blood pumping through it, carrying away the poisons rendered harmless by the��fire.

  The blazing heat continued as Aradia lifted her hands away. She smiled at him. “When you wake up, tell me if you still want me to cut off your arm. Sleep now.”

  She pressed gentle, warm fingers over his eyes, and he sank helplessly into blackness.

  Lenardo woke to sunlight streaming in the window. He was curled up comfortably on his right side, waking naturally just after sunrise��� but he was not in his room at the academy.

  For a moment he was completely confused by the unfamiliar surroundings, and then his mind cleared. His arm!

  Sitting bolt upright, heart pounding, he held his right arm out in front of him. It moved normally, naturally, felt as it had always felt. He Read completely healthy flesh and bone.

  To the eye, the skin had a sickly pallor, but he saw and felt that his calluses were gone, his hand as smooth as a baby’s. After all the swelling and blisters, the skin must have sloughed off. This was new skin, pale because untouched by the sun.

  How long-?

  He drew right and left hands together. The outdoor tan on his left arm had hardly paled at all. He could not have been unconscious for very long.

  He sat for a moment, staring at his arm. The brand that had caused all the trouble now appeared an old mark, seared deeply and permanently into his flesh, but with no remaining soreness.

  Bewildered, he rubbed his face and found he was badly in need of a shave-but again, it was several days’ stubble, not a growth of many weeks. He decided the best thing to do was to get up and find someone to answer his questions.

  He was still naked except for the wolf’s-head pendant, but his body felt clean. His clothes-what the bandits had left to him-were nowhere to be found, so he draped a blanket over himself like a toga and started out the door.

  It was locked.

  Feeling like an utter fool, he stood there, Reading through it. There was no one in the hallway outside. They didn’t think it necessary to guard him.

  No sense shouting and pounding on the door. He went to the window and saw the courtyard of a castle. He was two levels above the ground, looking down at the blacksmith setting up for the day’s work in the corner below him. He was a slender man, not the well-muscled type one usually associated with smiths. As Lenardo watched, he turned to his forge, waved his hand, and the fire blazed up! Lenardo realized there was no bellows.

  Why would an Adept be smithing? He recalled the young prostitute in Zendi, who had planned to put him to sleep as Aradia had done. Were Adepts so common in this society that there was no need to seek them out, as the empire sought Readers? Were they not a precious resource, to be carefully trained and guided?

  Just then he Read Aradia at the door to his room. No lock clicked, but the door swung open, and she entered, carrying a tray of food with both hands. Behind her, the door closed itself.

  “Nice trick,” observed Lenardo.

  “What? Oh-the door? If I’d had a hand free, I’d have given it a shove. No use wasting energy. I came to wake you. Your body has been doing an immense amount of work. You should be hungry.”

  He realized he was ravenous.

  She uncovered soup, bread, a dish of soft farmer’s cheese mixed with fruit. “Eat the soup while it’s hot,” she directed when he reached for the cheese and fruit.

  “It’s made with meat,” he replied. “Eating meat dulls the ability to Read.”

  “Does it really?” she asked. “Strange-it improves an Adept’s powers. But meat provides energy and is quickly absorbed into the blood. Will it do permanent damage if you eat some the next few days, until you get your strength back?”

  “No, I suppose not.” The aroma of the rich soup was enticing, although he usually found the smell of meat faintly repellent. His body was probably telling him he needed this nourishment.

  As he ate, he asked, “How long did I sleep?”

  “Three days. It takes time to heal such a desperate wound. If Wulfston had found you a day later, you would have been right-I could not have saved your arm.”

  “I’d have died of thirst before then. But��� now that you’ve saved my life, what do you plan to do with me?”

  She smiled, completely unReadable. In the daylight, he saw that her eyes actually were violet. He fingered the wolf’s-head pendant and recalled some distant vision in which Aradia and the white wolf kept blending into one another.

  Her pale skin, pale hair, and violet eyes gave her the coloring of the amulet, but she was hardly wolflike. At the moment, in a tan dress with a spotless white apron, she looked like some charmingly pretty country girl when she smiled-far from the powerful sorceress he knew her to be.

  At that thought, he was suddenly uncomfortable in her presence, particularly wearing nothing but a blanket. Male and female But she’s not a Reader, he reminded himself. And obviously, if Wulfston was her apprentice, there was no segregation of male and female among Adepts. Nonetheless, he felt ill at ease.

  She must have noticed, in the way non-Readers had of perceiving emotions, for she said, “The first thing we must do is get you some decent clothing. Then I’ll show you
around the castle. You’ll be very tired the next few days, until your body builds back all that the healing took out of it.”

  “But you did the healing.”

  “Oh, no. I just directed your own resources to do it. It is the nature of the body to be healthy.”

  “I certainly feel healthy,” he agreed. “I’d like a bath and a shave, though, to feel myself again.”

  “In time,” she replied. “We’re keeping your body clean until you have enough strength for a bath. You really do not understand how weak you are. When you feel up to it, you may leave this room with Wulfston or me-but until you learn your limits, you are not to go off alone. Do you understand?”

  “Are you going to keep me locked in here?”

  “It is for your protection, Lenardo. You have much to learn of our ways before you will be safe outside the walls of this castle-or even some places within them.”

  “What you are saying, then, in spite of the face you put on it, is that I am your prisoner?”

  “Oh, no!” She cocked her head to one side, mischievous country girl blending totally with dangerous wolf toying with its prey. Her smile was suddenly a pulling back of lips to reveal sharp teeth as she said in the most casual, reasonable tone, “You are not my prisoner, Lenardo. You are my property.”

  Chapter Three

  Aradia

  When Aradia had gone, Lenardo paced the room, anger burning up his small reserve of energy until he quickly reached exhaustion. Collapsing onto the bed once more, he fell into heavy sleep.

  He woke again when someone entered the room-Wulfston. The black man brought him tunic, robe, and soft woolen slippers, which Lenardo donned gratefully. “The tailor is taking your measurements from the garments you arrived in,” Wulfston explained. “By the time you are strong enough to leave this room, you will have suitable clothes.”

  “Thank you,” said Lenardo, quelling his anger. Wulfston, after all, was merely Aradia’s servant-perhaps her property. That might be the meaning of the wolf’s-head pendant. “I feel strong enough to leave right now.”

  “I know,” the black man replied. “You are not ill; all the poisons are gone from your body. But the cleansing power to drive them out came from every cell of your being; it will take days of eating and sleeping to replenish those reserves. You do not realize how weak you are. Are you hungry?”

  Lenardo was startled to find that he was, although only three hours had passed since his last meal. “You’re right about my needing more food than usual.”

  Wulfston smiled, then closed his eyes for a moment, frowning slightly. “There. Your food will be brought up.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I rang the bell in the kitchen. Now your food will arrive piping hot.”

  “But��� I thought an Adept had to see an object to affect it.”

  “Oh, but I have seen that bell, many times,” Wulfston replied. “As long as I know exactly where it is, I can control it.”

  Of course. That was how Aradia had healed Lenardo’s broken rib, and how Galen could provide directions to the attacking savages.

  “You are Aradia’s apprentice,” said Lenardo. “She is your teacher?”

  “Indeed, as her father was, until���” The man’s eyes grew sad, and even without being able to Read the Adept, Lenardo again caught an emotion, this time a frustrated grief when Wulfston spoke of Aradia’s father.

  “You cannot be much younger than Aradia.”

  “Five years. However, I remain as her apprentice because she is the most powerful Adept I have ever seen, except her father. I still have much to learn from her.”

  Lenardo fingered the pendant about his neck, looking at the one Wulfston wore. “Could you leave her if you wanted to?” he asked. “Are you not her property?”

  “Certainly not!” Wulfston replied indignantly. “I am Aradia’s sworn man, of my own will, loyal unto death!”

  “But the pendant-I thought-”

  “I do not know why Aradia allows you to wear it,” Wulfston said. “Very few have earned the right to swear fealty to Aradia-and you most certainly have not.”

  “Wulfston, exactly what claim does Aradia make on me? Does she think she can make a slave of me?”

  “You are like a member of a captured army-you cannot be trusted, and you must be controlled. The ruler who has captured you claims you until you prove your worth and loyalty. Aradia may do with you whatever she pleases -including taking your life.”

  “Doesn’t she hold that right over all her people?” asked Lenardo.

  “She holds that power. So do I. But neither of us has the right to take the life of a freeman without cause. Aradia is no tyrant like your emperor.”

  Lenardo let that pass to ask, “Then I may earn my freedom?”

  “Earn Aradia’s trust, and give her your loyalty.”

  As Lenardo pondered the problems inherent in such acts, they were interrupted by the appearance of a woman with a tray of food. She opened the door with one hand and at Wolfston’s instruction set the tray on a small table. Lenardo watched, Reading her as she left. She was no Adept, and the uppermost thought in her mind was that the cook had scolded her for scalding a pan of milk that morning. Yet she opened the door as easily as Aradia or Wulfston. Perhaps Wulfston had removed the locking device and would reset it when he left. Could I distract his attention and make him forget?

  There were two trenchers on the tray, but only one goblet and a pitcher of wine. A joint of meat steamed on a platter, surrounded by leeks and potatoes, all cooked. A bowl held grapes and apples, and that was all.

  “I’ll join you, if you don’t mind,” said Wulfston, setting two stools at the table. “I haven’t eaten yet today.”

  Lenardo looked at the meat and overcooked vegetables and wondered if he was really hungry. Fresh, crisp bread and cheese, with a salad-that would have been his choice.

  The great chunk of hot meat, dripping juices, was much harder to face than the soup Aradia had brought. Still, there was no choice-his stomach clamored for more than a bit of fruit.

  As he seated himself, Wulfston was slicing slabs of meat and placing them on both trenchers. Then he filled the goblet with wine, tasted it, and handed it to Lenardo. At the Reader’s hesitation, he said, “It’s a very light wine. It doesn’t interfere with an Adept’s powers, so I wouldn’t expect it to affect yours.”

  Lenardo was satisfied to let Wulfston misinterpret his hesitation, which was actually due to being expected to drink from the same goblet as another person. “No,” he replied, “Reading is not affected by a cup or two of wine.” He poked at the meat in front of him, swallowing a few morsels as Wulfston ate heartily and cut some more. “Do you have hot food like this every day?” Lenardo asked.

  “Mostly plain fare,” said Wulfston. “Only at great feasts are there elegant dishes made with exotic spices. Are you used to more complex dishes?”

  “No-simpler,” said Lenardo. “Readers don’t eat meat, and I’m used to raw vegetables.”

  “Raw?” Wulfston wrinkled his nose. “Well, that’s easy enough-but how do you live without meat?” His eyes swept over Lenardo’s body. “You’re built like a warrior. Where do you get your strength?”

  “Eggs, cheese, occasionally fish. It’s meat that clogs the digestion and interferes with Reading.”

  “And meat that gives Adepts their strength,” Wulfston mused. Then he shook his head. “No, it can’t be just diet.”

  “What can’t be diet?” Lenardo asked.

  “The differences in our abilities.”

  Before Lenardo could ask where Wulfston got such a peculiar idea, there was a sudden crash behind them. The heavy candelabrum had fallen from the stand beside the bed. “How could-T Lenardo began, but Wulfston was already on his feet.

  “Nerius!” he exclaimed as a shield hanging above the fireplace went sailing across the room to splinter against the opposite wall. “I must help Aradia.”

  Lenardo ducked the flying shield. “Wha
t’s happening?” he asked-too late. Wulfston was already out the door.

  Outside he heard a crash and Read a heavy oak table split down the middle. Following Wulfston mentally, he Read him run through the hall, meeting Aradia at the entrance to the tower stairs. “It’s getting worse,” she said in a worried voice and raced up the winding, treacherous steps.

  Wulfston didn’t answer but followed Aradia up to a room above Lenardo’s, where a frail old man lay in bed, a woman trying to restrain him as his body convulsed, each spasm corresponding to another crash somewhere in the castle.

  Lenardo could not Read the man, beyond his physical condition. Another Adept, but one whose powers had gone wild, striking arbitrarily, draining energy from his already depleted body.

  Aradia flew to the old man’s side. “Father! No, Father, please!”

  “He can’t hear you,” said Wulfston. “You’ll have to restrain him again.”

  “How long?” she murmured, then spread her hands over her father’s heaving body and began to concentrate. Slowly the spasms subsided until the old man lay limp, unconscious.

  Aradia lifted tear-filled eyes to Wulfston’s. “Why can’t I heal him? All I can do is stop the attacks-but each time they return more quickly and more severely.”

  “You’re doing everything you can,” said Wulfston.

  ” It isn’t enough!” Aradia said angrily. “Why does his body refuse to heal?! It’s against nature for it to destroy itself this way.”

  “Aradia���” Wulfston moved to her side, putting his arms around her, letting her lean on him. Shocked, Lenardo withdrew from Reading any further such a private scene. The sick old man had nothing to do with his chances of escape, and so he had no right to intrude further on the privacy of non-Readers.

  As he picked up the fallen candelabrum and replaced the candles, Lenardo suddenly realized that the old man’s attack might indeed have given him a chance to escape. The way Wulfston had rushed out He went to the door and tried to open it. Locked. He curbed a frustrated urge to kick the door and a secondary longing to fling himself down on the bed like a child in a tantrum. Instead, he forced himself to finish his meal, then lay down to rest again. It was, after all, sensible to save his strength, eat and sleep as Wulfston suggested until he built back his reserves. It had taken unusual effort to Read the scene in the upper room-so close, and only a superficial visualization. His powers were badly impaired, and would probably not return to normal until he recovered his physical strength and then performed a fast to rid his system of the effects of the meat diet.