she alert other Adepts to a Reader at large in their lands?
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. / 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. Wulf-ston making no attempt to conceal his contempt for Le- nardo. 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
