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 hi 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.'
Reading Wulfston's grief, Lenardo tried a turn of subject. 'You said Adepts don't use their own strength-?'
'Not when they can guide the power of nature or put another person's energy to work for himself.' Apparently relieved, Wulfston began to deliver a familiar lecture to an interested audience. 'Healing is the easiest of an Adept's tasks. Once he starts the process back to health, the patient's body takes over. Other things… the rain the night you escaped, for example. The natural movement of the weather here is from west to east. All we had to do was guide the clouds slightly and encourage them to drop their moisture over the area that needed it.'
'What if there were a drought and no convenient clouds?'
'We study nature for that very reason. There was such a drought here, eight years ago. I worked with Nerius and Aradia-the first time I was admitted as a full Adept to their circle. It was very difficult to create the conditions for rain, working against nature. Aradia thinks it might be the way Nerius expended his strength then that caused his illness.'
Back to Nerius. Clearly the health of Aradia's father weighed heavily on Wulfston's mind. 'You have an irrigation system now,' Lenardo prompted.
'Yes, built since the drought-or repaired, rather. An old Aventine aqueduct. In case of drought, there would be enough water to raise moderate crops. We wouldn't starve. But an aqueduct is such an easy target for one's enemies.'
'I suppose it wouldn't take much power to shift a support,' Lenardo mused, 'to cut off the water supply. But tell me, Wulfston-what kind of power would it take to cause an earthquake?'
The young Adept pushed up Lenardo's right sleeve and traced the dragon's-head brand with one finger. 'Impossible power,' he said. 'Even a large body of the strongest Adepts could not produce such energy, unless-'
'Unless?'
'You did come from'Drakonius' lands,' said Wulfston, 'yet the brand on your arm was so new that it festered. I have seen many infections-I know it was not an old wound. If you had escaped Drakonius-'
'Only in the sense that I wandered from his lands into Aradia's.'
'Drakonius claimed to have a Reader to guide him. Aradia did not believe him… or did not want to. She does not want to leave her father so ill, and she has little interest in making war on the Aventine empire. She challenged Drakonius to produce his Reader, but Drakonius refused.'
Lenardo remembered that he truly did not know what Galen had done. 'I do not think any Reader, no matter how unjustly exiled, would guide savage Adepts against the empire.' He looked straight into Wulfston's eyes. 'And no, I am not the Reader Drakonius had, if he had one,' 7 wish I knew a way to ask directly where Drakonius would keep Galen.
'They succeeded in causing an earthquake,' Wulfston mused, 'but it brought an avalanche that destroyed their own army.'
'Wulfston, if they had captured a Reader and forced him to do their bidding by chaining his mind as you did mine-'
The black man nodded grimly. 'A perfect revenge. You broke the command we placed in your mind-so could he. He could pretend to obey, then cause them to destroy themselves. In which case he is surely dead by now.' He looked at Lenardo. 'You are even more dangerous than I thought. What are we going to do with you?' 'Let me go.'
'You belong to Aradia. Plead your case with her.' After a time, Wulfston released the fever. Lenardo broke into sweat and felt his temperature drop to normal. The nagging aches in his head and shoulders disappeared, and he sat up without vertigo. Soon he felt himself again.
It was evening by the time they could see Aradia's castle in the distance. Wulfston urged his horse to a faster pace, eager to be home.
Suddenly, without warning, Lenardo's horse screamed, reared, and collapsed, throwing him clear. He scrambled up, expecting to have to dodge flying hoofs, automatically Reading-but the animal had gone limp.
'What happened?' demanded Wulfston, fighting his own plunging mount.
'By the gods-he's dead! His brain is shattered!'
'An attack!' exclaimed Wulfston, as in the distance there rose shouting, accompanied by various bangs and crashes. He reached down a hand, and Lenardo vaulted up behind him on his horse as they galloped for the castle. 'We thought Drakonius would be too busy rebuilding his army to attack us!'
They were approaching the castle from the front now. A number of houses clustered near the gate, and as Wulfston and Lenardo flashed by, one suddenly burst into flame, showering them with sparks.
'Wulfston!' Lenardo shouted above the noise, 'the attack is coming from inside the castle!'
'Nerius? No-oh, no, not at such a distance! He'll kill himself this time!'
They leaped off the horse in the courtyard and ran into the great hall. Lenardo Read the frail old man now, convulsing in synchrony with each blow, Aradia already at his side, blank to Reading in her concentration.
Wulfston dashed up the wide stone stairs, Lenardo on his heels, down the hallway toward the entry to the tower stairs, past a display of spears.
Behind them, a spear suddenly lifted from its brackets and sailed toward them with a force far greater than if a human arm had thrown it. Lenardo, breathless, could do no more than leap on Wulfston in a flying tackle, bringing both men to the floor in a tangle as the spear sailed over their heads to shatter against the stone wall at the end of the corridor.
Wulfston was gasping angrily, already gathering to strike back at Lenardo when the sound of the spear hitting the wall made him realize what had happened. He glanced at it, then turned back to Lenardo. 'Thanks,' he said, with a quick grip of the Reader's shoulder. Then he was up and bolting for the stairs.
They came out into a scene of frozen calm-the calm of death. The old woman who cared for Nerius lay on the floor, her staring eyes already glazing over. Aradia still stood beside the bed, head bent in concentration. The old man was unconscious, even more emaciated than when Lenardo had Read him a few days before, his skin chalk white, lips blue.
To appearances, Nerius was dead too, but Lenardo Read a lingering spark of life in that frail frame. His heart beat sluggishly, and his breathing was slow and shallow. Somehow, he clung to life.
Aradia raised her eyes, her grief a palpable presence as she sought her father's pulse.
'He's alive,' Lenardo supplied. 'He's very weak.'
Tear-filled violet eyes turned to him. 'Thank you,' Aradia whispered and bent her head again.
'Aradia-don't!' said Wulfston.
She blinked at him, as if hardly seeing him. 'Our father-'
'He's dying, Aradia. Let him sleep away in peace.'
'No!'
Wulfston took her shoulders, turning her to look at the old woman's body. 'It's not just himself he's hurting any
