Savage Empire se-1

by Jean Lorrah

  She had called him her property. Had she been hiding his existence from other Adepts? He cursed himself for not asking Aradia or Wulfston more about how the savages were organized. Was there any kind of central leadership? The empire assumed on one hand that they were a mindless force-yet on the other that they all shared the single purpose of destroying the empire.

  Granted, Lenardo had spent most of his time in Aradia’s castle asleep; but still, she had asked him very little about the empire. She wanted him to work with her, she said, never us. Riding through her lands today, he had Read none of the squalor, hunger, or fear he had found in the lands near the border.

  The information contradicted everything he knew-or was it just that he could not Read well now? His head was spinning. He pulled his horse off the road, found a sunny break in the wood, and almost fell off the animal. In moments, he was asleep on the soft grass.

  Lenardo woke to the sense of someone staring at him. Three people, he found: a man of middle years and two youths enough like him to be his sons. All three wore nothing but knee-length tunics. They spoke, but while Lenardo recognized the savage language, their dialect was so different from Aradia’s that he caught only a word or two. I must have crossed a border.

  His head ached, he couldn’t breathe through his nose, and as he leaped to his feet, a wave of dizziness made him stumble. He was caught, and the older man took his sword while the two boys supported him. All the while the man kept saying something that he finally recognized as “It’s all right. You’re safe here.”

  He had no strength to fight; it was easiest to believe they spoke truth as they half-carried him through the woods to a small house in a clearing. Here were a woman, a girl of perhaps twelve, and two small children playing in the sunshine. All were sturdy, healthy, cheerful.

  In organized pandemonium, the family bustled about, putting Lenardo to bed in the one large room of the house, in the only bed. The noise of their chattering kept him awake long enough to drink the hot spiced cider the woman brought him and to look around. The house was simple, dirt-floored with clean rushes spread about. There was a loft overhead. A fireplace of plain brick occupied most of one wall-a sign of some affluence for peasants. A few iron utensils hung on the well-plastered walls. Everything was unadorned, efficient, yet they seemed to be in no want of life’s necessities. Nor could he Read any hostility in them-curiosity, even pity, but nothing to indicate that he was not safe.

  Since they had not removed his shirt, Lenardo knew they had not seen either the brand on his arm or the wolf’s-head pendant-why had he not thrown that into a ditch somewhere along the way? His right hand was still unnaturally pale, but they didn’t seem to have noticed. He remembered the bandits’ fear of Aradia and the strange emotions her name aroused in Arkus-even if he was away from her lands, he might not have escaped her influence.

  When the woman came to take his cup, Lenardo said, “Thank you. I cannot stay here, though. I have no way to repay you.”

  The woman shushed him with reassuring noises, of which he understood only one word, “sleep.” Seeing that he didn’t understand, she pressed his shoulders down onto the pillow, repeating, “Sleep.”

  Reading her, he found no hint of Adept power. He was too exhausted to go on. At least he was temporarily safe here. After a few hours in a comfortable bed���

  He woke to the sound of hoofbeats and chattering. Before he could move, the door opened to admit Wulfston. The man and woman were with him, babbling in their strange dialect. He seemed to understand them, but he spoke to them in his normal language. “You have done well. This is, indeed, the man Aradia is seeking. She will not forget your service.” He dropped some copper corns into their hands. “Now let me speak with him alone.”

  Wulfston strode over to the bed, where he stood looking down at Lenardo in disgust. “You are more trouble than anybody’s worth. Ingrate. Horse thief. Is that what they turned you out of the empire for-stealing from your benefactors? I don’t know why Aradia thinks you’re worth salvaging. She should have let you go get yourself killed in Drakonius’ lands. The best thing I could do would be to stop your heart right now and tell Aradia you died of exposure-except that I would not dishonor my liege lady.” Lenardo flared. “Aradia’s not my liege lady! You took me prisoner when I was helpless, and you held me by��� tampering with my mind!”

  At the utter loathing in Lenardo’s voice, the harsh anger in the black man’s stance softened. But then he said, “We also saved your life-and your right arm. As to keeping you prisoner, how were we supposed to trust an exile when we know not what crime you committed? You could be a murderer, a molester of children, a torturer of the helpless.”

  “I am none of those things,” said Lenardo. “My crime was treason against the Aventine government.”

  But as he looked into Wulfston’s dark eyes, he saw the question that did not have to be asked aloud: “How can we believe you?”

  Finally Wulfston shook his head. “Aradia wants you, and she shall have you. Are you in any condition to ride?”

  “I suppose so,” Lenardo lied, tired of feeling so wretchedly weak. He sneezed.

  Wulfston laughed. ” That I could stop for you with hardly an effort-but it would require what you call ‘tampering with your mind.’ So you can just suffer through your cold and enjoy it. I’ll tell Hlaf we’ll stay the night.”

  Lenardo Read as Wulfston went outside. He had come alone. Of course; one Adept could certainly handle a sick Reader. Or a well one , Lenardo thought in frustration. How had they found him? Not enough time had passed for one of the peasants to walk, or even to ride, to Aradia’s castle and then for Wulfston to ride here. Aradia’s man must have been only a few hours behind him. How did he know Lenardo’s direction?

  Frustrated, aching in every muscle, his throat sore, Lenardo lay in the strange bed and fought back tears. He was a failure. He’d never find Galen, because Aradia would never let him go. He was a rat in a trap-each direction that seemed to promise freedom only trapped him more securely.

  And in his own plight he saw the fate of the Aventine Empire, fighting hopelessly against the inevitable. The savages would take the empire as easily as they had taken Lenardo. Resistance was a temporary show. The most he could do was refuse to cooperate��� and the most that would do was put off the inevitable by a few months��� or weeks��� or even just a few days.

  Chapter Four

  What Is Treason?

  They rode back to Aradia’s castle in easy stages. Wulfston making no attempt to conceal his contempt for Lenardo. The third time the young Adept commented, “I don’t know what Aradia thinks she can do with you,” Lenardo lost patience.

  “She thinks she can use me to spy on her enemies,” he said sourly. “She is wrong.”

  “Aradia has few enemies,” said Wulfston. “Those she has are Adepts, and you cannot Read them.”

  “That is true. Perhaps you can persuade her to let me go.”

  “Go where? To Drakonius?”

  “Drakonius?”

  “You wear his mark on your arm.”

  “The dragon’s head is the symbol on the savage banners -that is why the empire chose it as a sign of exile. It’s been used for hundreds of years. I should think he took his name from the symbol.”

  “It is an old family,” Wulfston explained. “The name and symbol have been in use for many generations, and they have always been in the forefront of the fighting against the empire.” He frowned. “How could you not know that? Surely empire spies have Read across the border often enough.”

  “There is a limit to how far one can Read,” said Lenardo. “This Drakonius-he holds all the land along the border?”

  “Yes, and may take all of Aventine before he’s through. Then where will he turn?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Drakonius puts all his strength into conquest. He strips and wastes and moves on. You saw the state of his lands.”

  “Yes,” replied Lenardo, �
�and the city of Zendi. It was an empire city when I lived there as a boy, beautiful, clean, comfortable. Now it’s filthy, overcrowded, run down.”

  “Exactly. Other Adepts, like Aradia, are beginning to defy Drakonius. We sent no troops to join his latest assault -good fortune to us, as the bulk of his army was destroyed in an earthquake of his own making.”

  “I know,” said Lenardo, careful not to give away his emotional shock: If he could find Drakonius, he would find Galen! On the other hand, Aradia and the other Adepts were allies of Drakonius. Perhaps they had defied him once, but against a common enemy from the empire they would certainly close ranks. So he must appear not to be such an enemy. “I was still at Adigia at the time of the earthquake,” he said. “It was the narrowness of our escape that led to my exile.”

  Wulfston eyed him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

  “If you savages can create earthquakes, what chance have we against you? You will destroy what is left of the Aventine Empire, unless we make peace with you. For suggesting that we seek a peaceful treaty with our enemy, I was exiled.”

  Wulfston was staring at him. “Is this true?”

  “It is, but I have no way of proving it. I suppose you’d rather think I’m a child molester.”

  Wulfston ignored the sarcasm. “But it will be a matter of public record. I shall find out You are quite right-your empire has no chance against Drakonius, once he builds back his army. Unfortunately, neither will he treat with you. He cares only for conquest.”

  “But he does not rule all the savages?”

  “I wish you would learn that we are not savages!” Wulfston snapped. “Nor are we a single unit, like your empire. No. Drakonius does not rule Aradia or Lilith or Hron or other great Adepts-but he exacts their cooperation now, while in the future���”

  “You fear he may conquer the empire and then turn on you?”

  “Yes. We have spent years renewing the lands Drakonius’ ancestors destroyed and abandoned. It is only too easy to predict the temptation to Drakonius. For that reason, we have begun our resistance now, and Aradia was hoping-”

  “What?”

  “No, I will let her tell you. I still do not trust you, Lenardo. I only hope Aradia will not be too quick to accept your story. Why did you not tell it before?”

  “Does it seem likely to you that to suggest one’s country seek peace before it is destroyed utterly would be regarded as treason? I did not think you would believe me.” The intensity of his words after prolonged conversation sent Lenardo into a fit of coughing. Wulfston pulled their horses to a halt, and regarded him with concern^

  “I don’t like the sound of that. You could develop pneumonia. If you won’t trust me to heal you, we’d best find a place to stay over another night”

  “I never said I didn’t trust you to heal my body,” Lenardo gasped painfully. “You said you’d have to tamper with my mind-and I’ll have no more of that!”

  “I don’t have to,” said Wulfston. “If you can relax and let me work, I can set your body to dry the fluid collecting in your lungs and purify your blood of this new infection.” He sighed. “If you continue to expose yourself to one illness after another, before you fully recover, you could easily kill yourself.”

  “If you do the healing, or Aradia, why am I so weak?”

  “We must tap your strength-if we had to give our own strength to the healing of others, neither of us would be able to walk across the room!”

  Wulfston spread Lenardo’s now-dry cloak on the grass by the roadside and had him lie down. Lenardo was relaxing before the familiar manner of a healer until Wulfston said, “You will feel heat in your veins. Fire purifies the blood of its taint.”

  “Fever kills the organisms that cause the infection,” Lenardo corrected.

  “Organisms?”

  “I have Read them,” said Lenardo. “An infection is a living thing-many living things so tiny no eye can see them, thousands upon thousands, feeding on the person infected.”

  Wulfston seemed disconcerted. “Living beings?”

  “Not beings, but alive, yes.”

  “Poisons, we knew, but not-You mean there are creatures feeding on you?”

  “Yes. Heat kills them. We have drugs to induce fever if the body does not-but high fever is dangerous in itself.”

  “I know. You are already feverish,” Wulfston said, touching Lenardo’s forehead. “I must increase your body heat, direct the blood flow to your lungs, and decrease the flow to your head, where excess heat might damage your mind. If you become sleepy, it is not because I willed it. Would you not rather sleep through the procedure? In my training, I had to experience it waking. It is not painful, but the first time it is very frightening.”

  “I’ve felt it before,” Lenardo reminded him, “when Aradia healed my arm and my broken rib.”

  “Yes-a localized sensation is not so bad. However, she put you to sleep before she set your body to cleansing the poisons from your entire bloodstream. Tell me if the feeling becomes unbearable. There is no reason you should have to endure it”

  “Why did you have to?” Lenardo asked curiously.

  “How else would I know what I was doing to another? I cannot see within my own body or yours. I had to feel it.”

  What Lenardo felt was strange but not particularly frightening, not as fearsome as the first time he had Read his own body, watching the organs working, the blood pumping, certain that every strange thing he saw was a sign of some dread disease. Of course-to an Adept, this outlining of his veins with fire would be his first experience of his body’s systems at work. Unable to Read, no wonder Wulfston had found it frightening.

  Lenardo felt discomfort as his body temperature rose. His head ached slightly, and he wanted to pull his clothes off to let cool air touch his hot, dry skin. He tried to Read down to the microscopic level at which he could sense the organism the fever was attacking, but the effort was too great.

  He let himself drift on the level of easy Reading, deliberately relaxing all his muscles. The headache subsided to a dull throb. Eventually Wulfston placed a hand on Lenardo’s forehead, pleasantly cool on his feverish skin, and there was gentle concern in the young Adept’s emotional presence as he said, “The worst is over now. I must maintain the heat for a time, but it will not increase. Do you find it disturbing?”

  “No. I’m too hot, but I can stand it.”

  “Could you Read what I was doing?”

  “I felt what happened, but not how you did it.”

  “I’m rather glad of that. If a Reader could learn Adept powers as well, he’d be invincible.”

  “Is that why you shield so carefully against Reading?”

  “There is no shield. I’m not consciously doing anything to keep you from Reading me.” He frowned. “This problem has always interested me. What is the difference between your mind and mine? We both have abilities most people do not, yet you cannot Read me.”

  “I can Read you physically,” said Lenardo. “I just cannot get into your mind.”

  “That is interesting. I can affect your body, but-Tell me, Lenardo, how did you get out of your room at the castle?”

  “Would you be satisfied if I said someone let me out?”

  “None of Aradia’s people would. You were able to break her control of your mind. We can affect each other’s bodies but not minds.”

  “I can’t affect anyone’s body or mind,” said Lenardo. “The idea of meddling with another person’s thoughts, beliefs, is abhorrent to me.”

  “Yet you spy on people’s most secret acts, fantasies, desires-”

  “Never! The Reader’s Honor forbids such a thing!”

  “Oh, yes. I have heard of the Reader’s Code of Honor��� but does it bind an exile, Lenardo?”

  “It binds a Reader, Wulfston. Wherever I go for the rest of my life, I shall never cease to be a Reader. I shall never cease to honor the Code.”

  The intensity of speech left him gasping for breath. Wulfston sai
d, “I’m sorry. Please relax-I should not say things to anger you while I am trying to heal you,” He shook his head. “I want to trust you, and I dare not Aradia thinks you can help us, but how can we know you will not turn on us?”

  “You can’t know,” replied Lenardo, “unless I tell you so. Right now I tell you that if I thought I could overpower you, I would escape.”

  “Where to?” Wulfston demanded in frustration. “Not to-from! I owe you and Aradia something for saving my life, but that does not make me Aradia’s property or give her the right to restrict me when I have done her no harm.”

  “Aradia’s powers give her the right,” Wulfston said in-a tone that suggested he was stating a natural law. “Might makes right?”

  “Of course. How can the world be otherwise?”

  “Then why talk of trust? Either you can hold me and force me to work for you, or you cannot.”

  “That is the flaw in Drakonius’ thinking,” said Wulfston. “He rules entirely by power and must spend much time and energy in enforcement. Aradia finds trust and cooperation better tools-you see what she has done for her people. In her lands, no one starves or goes in rags. No one fears an unjust death. Do you not think people will be loyal unto death to such a leader?”

  “Aradia took a place like Drakonius’ lands, and turned it into this pleasant countryside?”

  “Her father began it,” said Wulfston. “If he could only know how far she has succeeded, he would be immensely proud of her.”

  Lenardo saw unshed tears in the Adept’s dark eyes. “Aradia’s father is ill and blind, she told me. Still, can’t he be told what she is doing?”

  “He no longer understands. Nerius is gravely ill��� dying. That’s why Aradia did not come for you herself-she is the only one who can control one of her father’s spells.”

  “Spells?”

  “You remember that day when things began flying about in your room? That was Nerius. His Adept powers go wild, destroying things and at the same time draining his strength. If-Aradia were not there to stop him, he would kill himself by draining all his energy.”