by Jean Lorrah
For one moment Pyrrhus stood, startled. Then a wicked grin flashed to his face, and he gathered his own handful of packed snow to hurl at his friend-only to have it bounce off an invisible shield a handspan from Wicket’s cloak.
“Oh, is that the game we’re playing?” Pyrrhus asked dangerously. Although his eyes never left Wicket, suddenly the branches of the tree over the minor Adept’s head shook rapidly, and Wicket was doused with snow.
“Wasting your powers, Pyrrhus,” Wicket taunted. Scooping up a double handful of snow, he ran toward his friend as if he were about to tackle him. As Pyrrhus ducked the charge, though, his feet slid out from under him.
Wicket tripped on nothing, and twisted in midair to avoid landing atop Pyrrhus. “Slippery, innit?” he asked conversationally as he sat up, shaking the snow from his cloak onto his friend.
Master Clement stood in the Academy doorway, watching in amusement. “Julia, wasn’t there something about bringing this snow here for you to play in?”
She giggled-a mistake. Pyrrhus and Wicket turned to her, climbing to their feet. “That’s right,” said Wicket. “You were the one wanted snow.”
“So,” added Pyrrhus, “come and play!’
“Unfair!” she gasped through her laughter as they stalked her. “I’m not an Adept!”
“Don’t need to be,” said Wicket, grabbing her hand and pulling her with him up through the terraced garden, now empty and dead after the long winter. At the top, he turned to the smooth side of the little hill, spread his cloak on the ground, sat on it-and slid down the bank.
That looked like fun-and it was, Julia quickly discovered. So did the Readers from the Academy, released from their work by Master Clement’s command, for in Zendi’s normally temperate climate it might be many years before they would again see a snowfall so perfect for their games.
The park filled with laughing children and adolescents, and Wicket was not the only nominal adult to indulge the sensation of flying down the hill. The young Magisters had their turns, to the children’s squeals of delight.
Only when they were all thoroughly wet from the snow soaking through their woolen garments did the party break up-although the snow still fell. Preparing to leave, Pyrrhus asked Master Clement,
“Shouldn’t we send this storm away now? The Lady Lilith is on the road. I am sure she did not anticipate snow this late in the season.”
“The weather watchers will take care of it,” the old Reader replied. “People are enjoying it too much to stop it. At this time of year, even without control it would be gone by tomorrow night. Lilith won’t be here for two more days.”
Dressed in borrowed dry clothes, Julia walked home, Reading pleasant tiredness on every side. The snow had been an excuse for everyone to drop work and go outside. She passed snow sculptures, and splattered designs on walls that showed that Pyrrhus and Wicket’s had not been the only mock battle of the day. A holiday spirit hung over the city as the scent of hot spiced cider permeated the air.
Julia ate her supper eagerly that night, telling Aradia what they had done. Her stepmother smiled indulgently, but seemed distracted. Perhaps it was that she was in no condition to go out and have fun in the snow; all it had meant to Aradia was being stuck indoors.
After supper, Julia went to her room. Her schedule for today had called for her to read more of Portia’s records before supper. After the freedom of the afternoon, she didn’t really feel like working. She especially didn’t want to touch the scrolls and Read Portia’s frustrations. She had forgotten her own for a few hours; why relive someone else’s?
So she took a leisurely bath, and read a book from Aradia’s library, a retelling of the legend of the Ghost King. But as she sat on the lounge in her room, cold air seeped in through the window, even though it was shuttered outside and curtained inside. The candles seemed dim, too. Julia shivered, wondering if she had caught cold from the afternoon’s activities.
No, she wasn’t feverish, her glands were not swollen, her throat didn’t hurt. She could Read that there was absolutely nothing wrong with her health. So why did she feel half frightened? What of? Maybe she was just tired.
But she wasn’t sleepy. She didn’t like this book, she decided, stretching. Her eyes fell on the pile of scrolls. Maybe she should read and Read one tonight. It had become a habit, after all.
She picked up the next one in sequence-and found Portia discovering a way to influence political decisions. A senator who had risen from poverty had allowed himself to be bribed for a surprisingly small sum by merchants wanting him to vote their way on an issue on which he had no personal opinion. The Academy treasury was not large, but Portia could afford that much. The next time an issue of importance to Readers came up, Portia approached him, delicately.
It worked! His vote swung two others, and the issue came out in favor of the Readers.
There were other senators amenable to bribes… but they were far too expensive for even the Master of Masters to afford. Unless, that is, the Academy could find a way to enrich its coffers.
Portia remembered a merchant who had dropped hints to her that knowing the plans of one of his competitors could be worth a considerable sum. At the time, she had scathingly ejected him from her office. But if she was to be better prepared the next time she needed money…
She struck a deal with the merchant, and made sure she Read some of his most private and personal secrets. Only as insurance, she insisted to herself, should he ever threaten to expose her. Never would she breach the Readers’ Code to reveal such secrets.
She put out of her mind the fact that she had broken it to obtain them in the first place.
Her brother died, and her nephew became Emperor.
In Portia’s opinion, the boy was as close to an idiot as the royal family had ever produced. He drank, he gambled, he ignored his pretty but fatuous wife and chased after any other attractive woman who crossed his path.
Portia began to study how to throw attractive women in his way. Not prostitutes. Mostly discreet young wives of men who would be powerful, men who knew how to pretend they didn’t know should they find out just how their wives were helping their careers along. It was surprisingly easy to play on the greed and vanity of young women raised solely to be entertaining and decorative, to make them think their actions were clever, even loyal to their husbands. And of course the Emperor’s attentions were flattering.
But the Emperor must not become a laughingstock. Liaisons with women who would keep them secret kept his attention from women who might be less discreet. Portia was actually preserving the dignity of the royal family.
Julia Read that Portia knew in her heart that she wanted the Emperor to retain the respect of the Senate and the populace so that his decrees would not be questioned. Those decrees were often to the great advantage of Readers… or at least of the Master of Masters among Readers.
At last Portia found an entree into military planning sessions, bribing and pressuring the Emperor’s strategists into urging the Emperor to try battle plans she devised, putting Readers to more efficient use than ever before.
The Aventine army began to win! They drove the savages back steadily for the first time in generations, reclaiming lands thought lost forever.
The Emperor became a hero to the people. Portia was a heroine to the strategists, who no longer had to be bribed and pressured to seek her advice. Triumphantly, she recognized that the Readers’ Code might be meant for other Readers, but not for the Master of Masters. Her powers, her wisdom, had set her above the others-and she had acted well. The Aventine Empire was better off for her manipulations.
For once, she lost her resentment of having been born female, unable to rule, and then being torn from her family when her Reading manifested, and forced into a life of sworn poverty and public service. Using the Reading power that had ruined her life, she triumphed over adversity.
If she could not be Empress in her own right, she could rule Tiberium through the Emperor-and the fool would
never know that he was merely her tool!
She took to having her Reader’s garments made of silk rather than linen, and began to use the accumulated wealth of her Academy to provide luxuries, not only for herself, but for the girls and women in her care. She deserved the finest foods, the softest bed, the richest clothing, the most precious gems. If the world truly understood what she had done for her country, it would agree.
Years passed, and Portia extended her power. There was too much to do alone. She found a few select Master Readers who understood how she helped both the Readers’ system and the Aventine Empire.
Occasionally someone discovered what they were doing, but such Readers could either be drawn into the circle or exiled in one way or another. Young upstarts often found themselves on the Path of the Dark Moon, but a circle of Master Readers made certain they would be quite happy there.
The scroll ended. Julia put it aside and lay back, wondering what had gone wrong. Portia was so successful, so strong, so intelligent. She worked with human nature, just as Adepts did. As far as Julia could see, Portia was far better qualified than her foolish nephew to rule the Aventine Empire.
Just as Julia was far better qualified than the child Aradia carried to be Lenardo’s heir.
Practically on cue, Aradia’s screams erupted through the cold silence of the night. Julia Read her sobbing in Devasin’s arms again, and felt contempt. If you could see Aradia now, Father, you would see that she is no fit wife for you-and any child of hers not fit to be your heir!
Aradia woke feeling cold, even though blankets were piled over her and the fire was burning. She sat up, conscious of her awkward body, and felt cold air move in behind her to chill her spine.
Her breath clouded in the air of her bedroom.
Wrapping the blankets around her, she thrust her feet into felt slippers and went over to the fire. It heated only a tiny area, and she felt the chill air on her back even as she sat down facing the fire and held out her hands to it.
How could it be so cold? Especially inside? The calendar said it was nearly spring!
Ordinarily, this time of year brought sunny days interspersed with cold rain, occasionally sleet or a few flakes of snow. She had never known such bone-penetrating cold to come so late.
Devasin came in with an armload of warm clothing, saying, “I’ve never felt it so cold! You’d think it was the middle of winter instead of nearly spring.”
“I’m sure the weather watchers are working on it,” said Aradia.
“I certainly hope so!” Devasin replied with a shiver. “All the fountains are frozen, and so are the water pipes. Every fire talent in town is out thawing them.”
Devasin helped Aradia dress in wool over silk, woolen stockings, two undertunics, a robe over her usual outer woolen dress. Still she was chilly as she went to breakfast despite Devasins offer to bring it to her room. “Walking is good for me,” she insisted. “Besides, I must get ready for Lilith. “
Tomorrow. Tomorrow her friend would be here, a powerful Lady Adept, able to ward off—
Ward off what?
If only their enemy would show himself!
Herself?
At the thought, Aradia tried to Read the child in her womb. But with no more powerful Reader to help her, all she could tell was that her daughter seemed healthy, and was sleeping. No wonder, after tormenting me all night.
No-that was a dream. It all came from feeling so weak, with her powers diminished. When Lilith arrived she would feel safer, and perhaps the dreams would stop altogether.
At breakfast she carefully hid such thoughts from Master Selina, allowing the Reader to check her physical condition. “It wont be much longer,” the woman said, delivering the platitude in a gentle voice that gave it genuine reassurance. But there was still a month to wait for Lenardo’s daughter to enter the world. With each passing day, Aradia’s hope weakened that he would be home to greet her.
After breakfast Master Clement contacted Aradia from the Academy, not subjecting himself to a walk outdoors in the bitter cold which held the city paralyzed.
“Our weather controllers are trying to dissipate the cold. It came in last night, out of nowhere.
Yesterday’s snow is frozen, making the streets nearly impassible. But the strange thing is, the snowstorm we so casually evoked left here at dusk and traveled up the North Road, to empty into the passes in the hills north of here. Our weather controllers could not stop it. Unless she is willing to expend a good deal of Adept strength, Lilith will not be able to get through until the cold lets up and the snow melts.”
Aradia tried to hide her pang of disappointment, excessive response to the news that Lilith would arrive a day or two later than expected.
But Master Clement said, “I will be glad to have her here, too, Aradia. We need a fully functioning Lord Adept. Pyrrhus will be that soon, but right now he is still learning to control his powers, and he lacks experience.”
Pyrrhus didn’t lack energy, however. Before Master Clement had finished reporting what had happened in the night, the ex-Reader was charging up to the villa, melting a path for himself through the frozen snow, Wicket trailing in his wake.
Although well wrapped up against the cold, both men were also using Adept powers to keep themselves warm, a technique Aradia could no longer sustain. As both were braced to use Adept powers, they could only be Read visually-and the impression Aradia got was that Pyrrhus’ angry eyes were melting the snow as he looked at it.
“I had hoped after yesterday,” Master Clement commented sadly, “that Pyrrhus was losing his furious response to every small setback.”
They soon learned, however, that Pyrrhus was not overreacting. The moment he and Wicket were ushered into Aradia’s study, he asked, “Is Master Clement in contact with you?”
“Yes,” Wicket responded before Aradia could reply.
Pyrrhus glanced at his friend, almost apologetically. But his mind was on a new problem. “Good. I’ve been working with the weather controllers since dawn-and we cannot break this cold wave with all our combined strength!”
“Then we will have to gather more Adepts,” said Aradia. “Form a stronger circle.”
Pyrrhus nodded. “Yes% The weather talents can direct the strength of other Adepts, correct?”
“That’s right,” agreed Aradia.
“Our problem, then, is to define what must be done. Clement, have you Read how far this cold extends?
All Wicket can tell is that it goes beyond the city to the north as far as I can Read.”
Wicket said, “He says then it has to be intended to delay Lilith, as they suspected.”
Pyrrhus’ fists clenched and his jaw set. “They used me!” he exclaimed furiously. “Whoever did this used me to bring that snow in. Why waste their energy if they could find someone foolish enough to do it for them? Just for children’s games and trying out my powers!”
“You couldn’t know,” Wicket echoed Master Clement, putting his hand on Pyrrhus’ shoulder.
Pyrrhus shook him off and began pacing. “I should have known! If I could Read-”
“I didn’t Read anything,” said Wicket. “Julia didn’t.
Even Master Clement didn’t. Come on, Pyrrhus-you never Read better’n the Master of Masters!”
For a moment Aradia expected an explosion, but Wicket was the one person Pyrrhus took such raw truths from. He stopped in his tracks, and acknowledged the statement with a snort of self-derisive laughter.
Aradia said, “Then perhaps Master Clement can Read the extent of the cold for us.”
“I will leave my body,” the Master Reader said. “Surely no weather front can extend beyond my range in that state.”
Aradia was glad of her small Reading ability, for it allowed her to Read with Master Clement after he had left his body, and his mind touched hers and Wicket’s again. She was seated at her desk, aware of the murmur of Wicket’s voice as he tried to describe his first experience of what it was like to leave the confines of t
he body, to float, pure mind, untouched by heat or cold, hunger or thirst, pain or pleasure.
Even vicariously, the only way Aradia or Wicket would ever know the experience, it was beautiful beyond belief. She felt Wicket force his thoughts away from the fact that Pyrrhus had once known this state, and never could again.
Master Clement focused on the North Road, keeping his disciplined mind on the extent of the devastating cold. Although he could not feel the lack of warmth, he could Read it, and the farther north they traveled, the colder it became.
There was no physical effect from the cold on pure mind. The landscape, coated with snow and frost, was a sparkling fantasy in white, blue, gray, and the occasional black of tree trunks. Where the sun shone through the scattered clouds, had they been there in person they would have been blinded by the brightness of its reflection on the snow.
But beneath that snow, a herd of cattle lay frozen.
Birds, fluffed into little powder puffs in their attempt to survive, stood erect although quite dead, frozen to the branches they had taken shelter in.
And still the cold grew more intense.
Travelers caught by the unexpected storm had built a lean-to and a fire. The fire was out, their dog a lump of icy brown fur frozen in position to guard them, their horse slumped lifeless against the side of their wagon. Man, woman, and child lay stiff in one another’s arms.
My people, Aradia mourned.
Inexorably, the cold grew worse as Master Clement’s mind followed the road northward. They were coming close now to the border between Lilith’s lands and those Aradia and Lenardo ruled. Aradia’s heart began to pound as she “saw” blue shapes against the snow. Lilith’s pavilions.
There was no smoke from campfires. Everything was still as death.
But a fully functioning Lady Adept surely could not freeze to death!
At Aradia’s panicked thought, Master Clement focused quickly on locating Lilith. She was inside one of the pavilions-alive! She lay on a pallet, fully clothed, a blue woolen cloak covering her. She appeared to be asleep, perhaps healing sleep, which would automatically keep her body warm and living. Except… it was not healing sleep they Read. It was something Aradia had never Read before-and neither had Master Clement!