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 hi 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 hi 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 femaleBut 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
