quiet and stop frightening these people?// he added, but Galen was stubbornly closed to Reading. -
'It was too long!' the boy insisted. 'You knew! We couldn't save him with our hands. Only an Adept could have revived him in time!'
That again. 'Galen, stop it! Do you want these good people to think you're a fool? You're not thinking.'
'I've thought it out before, and no one will listen! Healing is the one thing we can trade with the savages-a place to start. Why won't the emperor even try?'
'Shut up, boy,' growled Linus' son. 'You don't talk treason in my father's house!'
'Your father almost died! Now he'll suffer for-the rest of his life-but if there'd been a savage Adept with us-'
Lenardo grabbed Galen in anger and fear, shaking him soundly. 'The savages kill. They don't cure; they Ml! Stop this before you get yourself exiled so they can kill you!'
But it was too late. Linus' son reported Galen's words to the commander of the local army. Lenardo often thought it was the horror of his father's condition that caused the younger man to take a kind of revenge on Galen. Had Linus either died or recovered with only minor problems, his son would probably have ignored Galen's outburst. But visiting his father day after day, finding him still unable to understand or communicate, he had to take out his frustration somehow.
Galen was no help to his own cause. He took his trial as a forum to propose that the empire sue for peace by offering the savages the services of Readers. Nothing Lenardo or Master Clement could say about the folly of youth did the least good. Galen was condemned to exile. His words upon being sentenced were a final defiance: 'Then perhaps I shall have to bring about peace by myself!'
Lenardo had feared then that the sentence would be changed to death. But no, Readers had been exiled before, and none had ever succeeded in ingratiating themselves with the Adepts. The empire knew that, for a Reader, exile did mean death. He wondered if any non-Reader could understand. Even if a Reader did not give himself away, being cut off from the rapport with other Readers would make death seem preferable to such a life.
Galen was to be sent into exile the next morning. Lenardo spent the night in a fruitless attempt to teach the boy the technique of leaving his body, so he could avoid the pain of branding. It was a lesson Galen would have begun on his eighteenth birthday, less than a month away-but it was a rare Reader who learned it on his first attempt. Lenardo knew there was little hope that Galen could achieve it in his state of emotional turmoil, but he had to try.
What he learned was that Galen thought himself incapable of that final test-that he expected to fail and be removed from the academy. And that he thought it was not fair.
Lenardo touched that night on fragments of Galen's feelings kept hidden up to now. Although the teacher had no intent to invade his privacy, the student was so upset that his private thoughts kept surfacing… or perhaps something within him wanted Lenardo to know them.
Why were Readers kept out of government? Surely with their strictly enforced Code they were more trustworthy than the non-Readers who entered politics. Why were the tests for Readers so stringent? The academies never had enough staff because they insisted on that final ability to leave the body before one was safe from being married off, one's sensitivity destroyed through sexuality. He'd even heard that reluctant couples were drugged'Galen, why didn't you tell me these things were on your mind?' Lenardo asked in dismay. 'You've been listening to ignorant, vicious gossip. Those stories are simply not true. I would know!'
'How would you know? They didn't marry you off-but then you always perform the tricks they ask, don't you, Magister Lenardo? Just like a trained dog, never questioning, always getting patted on the head by the Masters.', Lenardo let the insult pass. 'Galen, you know the answers to your questions. The powers Readers have are not appropriate to governing. And as for why not all Readers can remain secluded in the academies, where would the next generation of Readers come from? Non-Readers sometimes have Reader children-but Readers always do. And since the act of procreation severely diminishes a
Reader's ability, does it not make sense that the very best Readers should be spared?'
'I have no quarrel with that,' said Galen, 'but more should be spared. You know a Reader of my ability could be a great help here at the academy, tutoring, healing'That is true,' Lenardo agreed. 'However, those Readers who are not quite the best are the very ones who must produce the next generation, if the best Readers cannot. And, Galen,' he added, 'you have now seen to it that you will never know if you would have made it into the top ranks. Is that what you intended?'
Instead of opening to cleansing grief, as Lenardo hoped he would, Galen just said, 'I don't know what I intended- except to make people see the truth. You have all those standard answers, which let you ignore the questions.'
'I don't understand you, Galen.'
Galen's eyes fixed on Lenardo's. 'I know, Magister Lenardo,' he said sadly. 'I know.'
Now, two years later, Lenardo still felt the same frustrated guilt. He found it strangely easy to say Galen's words publicly, even though he did not believe them. At his own brief trial, he insisted that the last savage attack on Adigia, using the force of an earthquake, had convinced him that the empire had no hope of surviving against such power. He then presented Galen's argument-that the empire should seek peace with the savages by offering Readers' abilities-as if it were his own.
For a moment, as he awaited sentencing, Lenardo wondered how much the non-Reader tribunal knew. Had they got wind of the fact that the last Reader they had exiled was now working for the enemy? Would the sentence be not exile but death? In horror, he discovered that some small part of him hoped it would be.
No. 1 must correct my mistake. How often had he made his students do their work over, insisting, 'Mistakes are meant to be learned from.' So now he must try again to persuade Galen. He stood firm as the sentence of exile was pronounced.
To be sure the the empire's exiles could not return under assumed identity, each one was branded on the right arm with the head of a dragon, symbol of the mindless power of the savages. As Lenardo, dressed in sturdy traveling garments, was led to the gates of Adigia, he couldn't help shuddering at the sight of the brazier, the iron already heating in the glowing coals.
He remembered when Galen was branded. Out of some strange mixture of expiation for himself and reassurance for the boy, he had meant to Read the pain with him. No Reader could shut out that kind of pain entirely-every Reader in Adigia suffered when someone in town felt agony, except the very young boys who could not yet Read beyond the confines of the academy. But Lenardo had intended to make no effort to close Galen out.
Deliberately he turned his mind from the thought as he approached the north gate of Adigia on his own day of exile. Torio and Master Clement walked on either side of him, dressed all in black-symbol of his death to them. In the gathered crowd were many familiar faces, a few students, townspeople, soldiers. He saw Linus with his wife and son. If-when-he found Galen, he would give him the good news that in two years the man whose life they had saved had recovered, enough to work, to play, to enjoy life. He still spoke haltingly and walked with a slight limp, but he was alive and grateful to be so.
Lenardo Read great confusion from the crowd-a Master Reader exiled? Many of them wondered why the government would not heed the words of so wise a man. // they only understood that Reading does not automatically confer wisdom! he thought bitterly.
Others were scornful, though. A number of times he half-heard, half-Read someone say, 'The savages will show him. They know what to do with an exiled Reader!'
The soldiers waiting to perform the Acts of Exile were men he had known for years, non-Readers he had fought beside many a time before his skills had reached the level at which he could retire to the keep to direct the troops. Now one of the men gazed at him with contempt, but the Other, a grizzled old warrior with a scar down his cheek, had tears in his eyes. 'Ye were ever a good man, Master,' he said gruffly. 'I dinna understand. Ye guided us against the enemy not two weeks ago, and now they say ye be a traitor.'
'The emperor thinks my beliefs dangerous,' Lenardo replied neutrally.
'Aye, and it not be dangerous to leave Adigia wi'out ye? Ah, Master, may the gods bless and protect ye. Here.' He pulled at a chain about his neck, drawing an amulet from under his tunic. 'I took this off one o' them savages in my first battle. Tis said to be a powerful protection, Master, from one o' their gods. And indeed, with all the battles I've been through, here I am, alive and healthy.'
