by Jean Lorrah
People started talking about the “hard-luck year,” and in Zendi gossip attributed it to Lenardo’s being kidnapped. On one hand, Aradia was always pleased to see how beloved her husband was, for he had won these people as a stranger and a Reader in the days when the first was to be distrusted and the second executed upon discovery. She had deliberately put him in a hopeless situation, and Lenardo, not knowing any better, had turned the decaying city into a shining example of hope and enterprise. That was when she had fallen hopelessly in love with him.
On the other hand, it was difficult not to be annoyed that they did not place the same faith in Aradia that they did in her husband. And as her powers waned there was less and less she could do personally to show them she could care for them as well as Lenardo did.
As weeks passed with one problem after another, and no clues as to where the attacks came from, Aradia even began to lose faith in Master Clement. He was as frustrated as she was, none of his Readers picking up the slightest hint of upcoming attacks. They just happened, out of the blue-and once in a while a nearby Reader would be able to tell which minor Adept had suddenly shifted the wind or knocked the main prop out from under a half-constructed building.
Pyrrhus’ theory was the only reasonable explanation: the people who were used had commands implanted, keyed to some expected occurrence. When it happened, they acted, and immediately forgot.
Even Master Clement could not discover who had implanted the commands, for consciously the recipients did not know that the commands had been implanted, or even that they had performed the acts.
The Master Reader explained to Aradia, “I can sometimes uncover the command-but not who put it there. Whoever it was, he or she was unknown to the victim. To learn more, I fear we have no choice but to subject one of those victims to having his mind delved into by a circle of Masters.”
They were in Aradia’s study. She and Master Clement had arrived first, then Wicket and Decius. They were still waiting for Pyrrhus.
At Master Clement’s suggestion, Wicket shuddered. “Sounds horrible!” He picked up a stylus from Aradia’s desk, and twirled it between his nimble fingers.
“It is,” said Master Clement. “The technique is normally used only on sick minds, to uncover suppressed memories necessary to the healing process. It is painful for both the patient and the healers. I do not want to do it, Wicket, but it may become necessary to ask for a volunteer from among those we know to have been used.”
“Volunteer to have his mind peeled like an onion?” Wicket asked.
Master Clement winced. “An unfortunately apt comparison. If we must do it, the best healers from Gaeta will work with me, to minimize the patient’s trauma.”
“I don’t want to know when you do it” Wicket muttered. He balanced the stylus on end on the desk and let go, holding it upright with Adept power.
“You mean you don’t want Pyrrhus to know,” Master Clement said gently.
“It’s what they did to him, isn’t it?” Wicket concentrated on the stylus-a neat demonstration of sustained use of tiny increments of power, showing the tremendous progress he had made in the past few weeks.
He should not waste such effort, of course, but Aradia understood that he needed that concentration in order to bear the subject under discussion.
“I assume so,” Master Clement answered his question. “A similar process to isolate the area-” The old man cut off his speculation at the other’s look of sheer revulsion. “Wicket, you understand that I did not harm your friend. What he blames me for is not being aware that it was happening, and therefore not preventing it. I accept that blame. I had the ability to Read what Portia was doing… if it had ever occurred to me that it was so evil that it overrode her right to Privacy.”
Wicket shook his head. “All me life, in Tiberium, the Readers were supposed to be good, and the savages, the Adepts, were supposed to be the monsters.” He gave a sad snort of laughter. “Come to find out, Readers can be just as cruel-more so, usin’ people’s minds like dice’t’ play their games.”
The stylus broke with a loud snap, and the pieces fell to the surface of the desk in a perfect circle.
Wicket left them there, and looked over at Master Clement as if challenging him to deny the charge.
“Some people can be cruel,” Master Clement replied. “We can only try to heal the damage they do, as best we can.”
The door opened, not Pyrrhus but one of Aradia’s servants with a small casket. “A message from Lord Wulfston’s lands, my lady.” She accepted it, and set it aside as the man left. The casket was decorated with the black wolfs head, her brother’s symbol, and she knew it contained letters and accounts sent to her monthly while Wulfston was away. Odd-she had received reports only a few days ago. Perhaps there was news.
“Aradia,” said Master Clement, “I will not Read its contents, but there is a letter to you from Lord Wulfston in that chest.”
She gasped, and pulled the casket in front of her with trembling hands, wishing she had a Magister Reader’s ability to Read the pages. But she would never be that good a Reader, and besides, she wanted his letter in her hands.
The lock required an Adept to open it. The central mechanism was completely enclosed, the tumblers not intended to be reached with a key. She had to Read or know how it was made to open it, but of course she had known the complexities of her brother’s lock code since the day it had been developed for him.
With shaking fingers, she pressed the outer studs in order, and began concentrating on the tumblers. But in her eagerness she slipped like a child, the mechanism gave a loud click, and the studs sprang out again, leaving the casket firmly locked. She was tempted just to split it open and be done with it.
At Aradia’s grimace of annoyance, Wicket said, “Please allow me, my lady,” reaching for the casket.
“There’s few locks I can’t jiggle open,” he added, pressing the outer studs and tilting the casket slightly sideways.
“I don’t think you-” Aradia began, and then heard the first tumbler click. How could he-?
Decius was Reading the inner mechanism, about to tell Wicket the order of the tumblers.
“No-don’t!” Aradia warned him.
“Don’t what?” asked Wicket, not looking up.
Decius’ mouth opened in amazement, but he contained his surprise, as did Master Clement, who after a moment smiled at Aradia over Wicket’s head.
“Don’t break it,” Aradia improvised.
Wicket laughed. “You can’t break one of these things. The worst that can happen is you don’t get it open.” He became blank to the three Reading him, the rest of the tumblers clicked in sequence, and Wicket lifted the lid and set the casket on the desk in front of Aradia. She waited until the shield of Adept use relaxed, and she could perceive Wicket’s presence again.
“Thank you,” she told him.
“You’re-” He was looking at her. He realized she had not spoken, and his shields went up reflexively.
Then, “Oh, no.” He shook his head. “Oh, no-not sse. That’s not fair. It isn’t fairl You can’t do that to me-I won’t let you!’
“What are you doing to him?” snarled Pyrrhus from the doorway.
“Nothing!” Wicket gasped, turning to face his friend. “It’s nothing, Pyrrhus.”
“Nothing done to him,” Aradia agreed.
Pyrrhus looked over the tableau, Aradia behind the desk with the open casket in front of her, Wicket standing before her, the two Readers sitting off to the side. He tilted his head with a puzzled expression.
“Then-what have you done, Wicket?” An enigmatic smile. “Finally learned to Read?”
Wicket’s mental shields were no defense against Pyrrhus; the ex-Reader knew he had hit home by the way the color drained from Wicket’s face. “No! I–I won’t! I mean-” Realizing that he was not helping the situation, he stuttered to a halt, shoulders slumping in defeat. He looked away, refusing to meet Pyrrhus’ eyes.
“Wicket,�
�� said Pyrrhus, “you’ve known that this was inevitable from the day we learned that the two powers go together. Now stop acting like an idiot.”
The other man looked up, incredulous. “You… you don’t mind?”
“I mind that I can’t. But why in the world should I mind that you can? Who knows? As a Reader you may even prove useful!”
Aradia hardly heard them, didn’t hear whatever they said next, as Master Clement and Decius drew them into a discussion to give her the privacy to read her letter.
The date was nearly three months ago. Wulfston had not yet found Lenardo. His ship had been damaged in an Adept conflict, and had had to be repaired, forcing him to follow Sukuru all the way tp Africa. He was sending this letter from a place called Freedom Island, off the coast, and would write again at the first opportunity.
“Julia,” she called mentally to the girl, and let her Read the letter through her eyes, sharing relief at news at last, disappointment at how scant it was. She tried to tell herself it was better than nothing, to keep Julia’s spirits up if not her own.
At first she thought the ball of pain just below her heart was her disappointed reaction. Then it spread, increasing in intensity, stabbing through her swollen belly, driving coherent thought from her mind as she gasped aloud.
The four men turned to look at her. Master Clement would have Read her, but she didn’t feel it because her own Adept powers manifested automatically at pain.
But it didn’t stop!
For the first time in her adult life, Aradia’s healing powers were not enough to stop her own pain!
A moan escaped her as the agony cut like a knife. “My baby!” she gasped. “Lenardo’s child-oh-don’t let me lose her!”
Chapter Seven
Gratefully, Julia Read the letter from Wulfston with Aradia, sharing her disappointment at how old the news was, and that it contained no information as to Lenardo’s whereabouts. If she could get her hands on it, though…
Before she could suggest it, pain stabbed Aradia. Julia gasped, but refused to break the rapport. Aradia stopped Reading as she attempted to invoke Adept healing, and Julia stopped feeling her pain.
She shifted her Reading to join Master Clement’s mind. He tried to reassure her even as he focused on Aradia. Still Reading, Julia left her room and ran to the study. Her stepmother gasped in pain despite all the Readers could do. The double focus on the scene in the study and her own movement was no longer strange to Julia; she neither lost contact nor stumbled.
She burst in just as Pyrrhus was saying, “Tell me what’s wrong with her! Damn you, Clement-you know I can’t use this new healing power unless you tell me where to focus!”
Julia caught Decius’ shock at the way Pyrrhus dared address the Master of Masters, and the young Reader’s own unsuccessful attempt to ease Aradia’s pain.
The four men had laid Aradia on one of the lounges, and were gathered around her, perplexed.
“Direct healing heat into this area,” Master Clement said to Pyrrhus. Then, “Aradia, the baby is unharmed, and the pain is not a contraction. You are not miscarrying! Do you hear me?’
Sweating, teeth clenched, Aradia managed to nod. She struggled to breathe.
“It’s a muscle spasm,” said Master Clement, “below your diaphragm. It’s pressing on a nerve, causing the pain. Can you Read with me?”
Julia felt Aradia try to open to Reading, but she could not sustain it. All her life’s training made her instinctively brace her Adept powers against pain. Feeling helpless, Julia knelt beside Aradia and took her hand.
“We’ll ease the spasm,” said Master Clement, Reading for Decius exactly where it was. To Pyrrhus he gave the name of the muscle that had contracted and refused to release. Julia watched and Read as the two concentrated. Healing warmth focused in the recalcitrant muscle until, finally, it relaxed, and Aradia began to breathe normally again.
Trembling, Aradia looked up at Master Clement. “Thank you. But what caused that? It’s not normal.”
“Aradia,” said Master Clement, “it was painful, but it did no lasting harm. Any Reader my age has consulted on enough pregnancies to know that each is unique. There is no such thing as a ‘normal’
pregnancy in every detail.”
“I couldn’t control the pain!” Aradia said fearfully.
“It’s all right,” Julia tried to reassure her. “You’ll get all your powers back after the baby is born.”
“My mother didn’t,” Aradia said grimly, and Julia felt a shock. It was the first time Aradia had ever mentioned her mother.
“Your mother did not have both Adepts and Readers to help her through her pregnancy, and her recovery afterward,” said Master Clement. “Worry won’t help you or your child. I will contact Lilith. You need her here now, and we may have need of her powers. “
“The border-” Aradia protested.
“Lilith’s people are completely loyal, and she reports that her son Ivorn is making rapid progress. She has an excellent system of Readers and Adepts to protect her lands in her absence. Aradia, none of the attacks against Lilith’s border have succeeded-you’ve heard the reports. It is just possible that they are intended to keep her from coming here.”
“Divide and conquer,” suggested Pyrrhus.
Aradia tried to sit up, but Julia put her hands on her shoulders. “Stay there and rest.”
“Not when I’m being attacked!”
“No one said you were being attacked,” said Julia. “Did you Read something?” She looked up to include Master Clement in the question.
“No, Aradia,” said Master Clement. “I did not mean to imply that your pain came from Adept attack.
However, your pregnancy is no secret. Neither is the absence of Lenardo and Wulfston. Torio and Melissa have been gone for some time. We are vulnerable; we must prepare for attack.”
“Better,” said Aradia grimly, “to be prepared and not be attacked, than to be attacked when unprepared.
I will-”
“You will sleep now,” said Master Clement.
“Sleep! There’s no time-”
“Aradia!” Master Clement said in warning tones. “You must rest. Put yourself into healing sleep, or Pyrrhus will do it for you.”
“Pyrrhus? He’s only-”
“My Adept powers are stronger than yours at this moment,” Pyrrhus interrupted her. “Do you wish to put it to the test?” he challenged. “This time I will win.”
Julia saw the struggle in Aradia’s eyes, but then she said, “Very well. But first-”
“First you rest,” said Master Clement. “Decius will stay with you until Master Selina and Vestor arrive.
From now on you will be attended by both a Reader and an Adept healer at all times, Aradia, until your daughter is safely born.”
“That’s not necessary,” Aradia said.
“Humor me,” replied the Master of Masters. “Remember, when Lenardo returns, I will have to answer to him for your safety and that of his child.”
He knew the one argument that would always persuade Aradia. Or me, Julia admitted to herself.
But she was greatly concerned about Aradia. Her nightmares still occurred, although since Master Clement was trying to help her it was not every night. But she still woke screaming, with the conviction that her child was stealing her powers and trying to kill her.
Aradia’s mother went mad and tried to murder her own child.
Julia forced the thought away. It was easy enough to do in daytime, with Master Clement nearby. But at night, as she Read Devasin soothing Aradia back to sleep after one of her dreams, Julia could not help wondering if Aradia would also go mad. What if Lenardo returned to find his wife powerless and crazed?
And the child she carried-if Aradia had inherited her mother’s madness, would her daughter also inherit it?
Born of Lenardo’s own blood, that child would displace his adopted daughter as heir to the empire they had all worked so hard to create. That Julia had fought and nearl
y died for.
Aradia lapsed into healing sleep. Decius sat down on the other lounge, to wait for his replacements. Julia went to the desk for Wulfston’s letter, and Master Clement started for the door.
“One moment, Master Reader,” said Pyrrhus. “Don’t forget to take him with you. ‘ He gestured at Wicket, who stared back at him in confusion.
“Why?” asked Master Clement.
“Take him to the Academy and assign him some tutors. Train him as fast as you can. 7 want him to Read for me.”
Master Clement looked from Pyrrhus’ determined face to Wicket’s, which evolved from bewilderment to pleased anticipation. “Oh, yes!” he said. “We’ve always made a good team, Pyrrhus an’ me. If he wants me to Read for him, I’ll learn-I promise! I’ll be the best pupil you’ve ever had!”
To her intense disappointment, Julia got nothing from Wulfston’s letter to tell her where Sukuru might have taken Lenardo. She did learn, as she held it and Read the impressions of her uncle’s feelings as he wrote it, that what he had described as an “Adept conflict” had been an all-out battle, in which he had come out the loser.
Wulfston must have relived the battle in his mind as he decided how to phrase the description for his sister, for Julia found the memory sharp and clear as she clutched the worn paper. In the midst of the battle Julia realized, as Wulfston must have, that his opponents could as easily have sunk his ship as disabled it. They didn’t want to kill him. But they didn’t want him to rescue Lenardo without going all the way to Africa.
Divide and conquer.
Surely the kidnapping of her father could not have anything to do with the attacks on the Savage Empire?
“Julia.”
“Yes, Master Clement?”
“Please come to the Academy. I have a task for you.”
Well, at last she was to be trusted with responsibility again. Ever since Galerio’s death she had been assigned lessons and occasional Reading jobs, but no continuing responsibilities. For a time it had been a good thing. She had suffered from debilitating fatigue; many afternoons, trying to read the scrolls Master Clement had given her, she had found her thoughts turning instead to Galerio, and wept until she fell asleep, waking with difficulty hours later.