could not overcome his teacher's training.
'Don't you boys leave without rinsing all that soap away,' he warned them. 'You wouldn't want anyone to slip and fall.'
Their momentary resentment turned to embarrassment when they recognized who had called them down. The intrusion of the adult world spoiled their fun, and with a 'Yes, my lord,' they cleaned up the soap and left. Lenardo could hear their voices echoing down the hall and the shouts and splashes as they jumped into the frigidarium pool.
NonReaders, nonAdepts-how young and free they were. They could do anything they wanted with their livesAnd so can I, Lenardo reminded himself, rinsing off in the warm water. They will choose responsibilities, limit their lives as everyone must.
He immersed himself up to his chin, and a fragmented vision rose before his eyes, fleeting and incomplete. He and Aradia, bathing together, laughing like children, flushed with desire.
It was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving Lenardo with the sensation of arousal. He fought it down, glad that he was alone. Fragmentary as it was, the vision had all the impact of one of his precognitive flashes, but it could not be true. He could not allow himself to desire Aradia. Even if he did, there could never be fulfillment of desire. She would never risk her powers. No, it was a fantasy, not a vision, and he put it firmly out of his mind.
The festival was Helmuth's responsibility. People from all over the land planned to come to the capital, for most had not yet seen their new lord. Lenardo's watchers worked harder than ever before to spread the news. The watchers were the savage means of sending messages in code, through lights flashed from one hilltop to another. Within a day, everyone in the land knew of the planned festivities.
The three Adepts sent whole trains of grain, fruit, wine, and cider; wagonloads of meat and fish; and herds of sheep and swine. The all-important feast would lack for nothing.
But while Zendi might house its people for the winter in minimum discomfort, there were no proper accommodations for a Lord and two Ladies Adept. Lenardo could provide a house for each but no furnishings. Even in his own house, he had the only bed. Julia's room had a couch that she would outgrow in a year or two, and everyone else still slept on pallets on the floor.
Helmuth had an answer. 'Pavilions,' he said. 'Lord Wulfston thought of it, my lord. He sent a wagon full of blue, white, and black silk. The women wanted to make dresses of it, but I recognized Aradia's and Lilith's colors, and I assume Lord Wulfston has rather appropriately adopted black.'
'Where would Wulfston get all that silk?' 'He has a seaport, my lord. Merchants call there all the time. Tis a good thing you're allies. You can negotiate free passage between Zendi and the sea.'
Lenardo sighed. 'Always more plotting. Pavilions?^' ' 'When a Lord Adept makes a progress through his own land-not a march to battle but for some other purpose- he often sets up a silk pavilion as his quarters. Your guests will be appropriately housed. We can put the pavilions in the forum, and the Lords Adept can use their own travel goods inside them. Arkus and Josa will be busy, but we have others now who will see that rain does not spoil anyone's comfort.'
'Very well, Helmuth. I leave it in your hands.'
'As you should, my lord. Now, what about your own color, for banners? And your symbol?'
'You, too? The seamstress was in here this morning, pestering me about formal attire. I am a Master Reader, and so I shall wear scarlet robes. There was enough material in the supplies we brought with us. Perhaps scarlet banners-'
'No,' said Helmuth, 'white banners with the scarlet dragon.'
'Not the dragon,' Lenardo insisted. 'That-was Drakonius's symbol.'
'The black dragon, on gold banners-and you've not seen a single one left in your land, have you? All burnt, the moment people knew Drakonius was dead.'
'Precisely why I should choose another symbol.'
'But you carry the red dragon on your arm, my lord- always. People take it as a sign.'
'Helmuth, everyone knows it's nothing but the brand of an Aventine Exile.'
'No, my lord. People say you were born with the mark, born to defeat Drakonius, to change the black dragon of terror to the red dragon of good fortune.'
'What utter nonsense.'
'No, it is not nonsense. Your people believe that their destiny and yours are bound up together. You should encourage such beliefs, for who is to say they are wrong? There is an old saying: In the day of the white wolf and the red dragon, there shall be peace throughout the world. Aradia is the white wolf. You are the red dragon, the thing that cannot be, a Reader Lord in a land of Adepts. You are marked with the sign, my lord. Do not deny it.'
Wulfston was the first of Lenardo's guests to arrive. He came in style, at the head of his army, dressed in rich brown velvet embroidered in gold, riding a fine bay stallion. His banners bore the wolf's head, but in black on a white field. Lenardo was waiting for him in the forum, with Julia at his side. The girl still had some trouble visualizing what she Read. When Wulfston first came in sight, she gave a start.
//I've never seen a man all black like that before. Aren't you frightened, Master Lenardo?//
//Of course not. Lord Wulfston is our friend.//
//But I can't Read him!//
//Lords Adept cannot be Read, Julia. Considering your propensity for mischief, that is probably a very good thing.//
He stepped forward as Wulfston dismounted, and they exchanged formal greetings for the benefit of the gathered crowd. Julia managed a rather shaky curtsy, watching Wulfston warily. The fact that this was the first person she'd met whom she could not Read bothered her far more than his appearance.
Wulfston walked with Lenardo and Julia back to their house, maintaining formality for the staring crowds. Once they were inside, though, Lenardo found himself caught up in a bear hug.
'My, but I'm glad to see you,' Wulfston exclaimed. 'I missed you almost as much as Aradia.' He held Lenardo at arm's length, looking him up and down. 'But you look wonderful. Ruling agrees with you, eh? And your people. I don't have to Read to tell how they love you already.'
'They'd respond favorably to anyone after Drakonius.'
Wulfston laughed. 'I won't frighten you with all the mistakes you could have made, but you've had good luck, too. Especially in finding an apprentice Reader.' When he turned to Julia, she stepped back hesitantly, and Wulfston said, 'What's this? Surely you're not afraid of me? From what Lenardo told me, I didn't think you'd fear the ghost- king himself!'
He had instinctively taken the right tack. Julia bridled. 'I'm not afraid of anyone.'
'Then come and greet me properly, child.' When he held out his arms to her, she launched herself into his embrace and was picked up easily, corning to rest astride his hip, her head on his shoulder, blissfully at home.
Wulfston hugged her and continued to carry her effortlessly as they walked through the house to Lenardo's room. 'What a joy this child must be to you, Lenardo. I can remember Nerius carrying me just this way. I always felt completely safe.'
'Master Lenardo doesn't like to hold me,' Julia informed him.
Wulfston cast a puzzled glance at Lenardo, who said, 'Julia is a Reader. I've explained to you-'
'But she's just a child,' said Wulfston, sitting down and establishing Julia on his lap. 'Surely at her age-' Then he said apologetically; 'Lenardo, if I'm interfering in your discipline, I'm sorry. I didn't think.'
'It's all right,' said Lenardo, sitting down opposite them. 'Julia will outgrow her compulsion to touch as her Reading ability develops. What upset her at first was that she can't Read you.' Yet he felt a remote twinge of jealousy as he watched Julia settle happily.
'I can Read you now, my lord,' she said, 'at least what you're feeling. You're awfully nice.'
'You caught me in a good mood,' Wulfstone teased, no more taken in by her flattery than Lenardo. Yet it seemed that Wulfston automatically knew more of what Julia needed just now than Lenardo did. No, not what she needs. What she wants.
Julia lifted Wulfston's pendant. 'Look, Master Lenardo, just like yours!' Then she held it against her cheek, saying, 'No, it tells a different story.' 'Hmm?' Wulfston looked to Lenardo for clarification.
But Lenardo was just as puzzled. 'What do you mean, Julia?'
'When I hold yours, it tells me about you… and an old man, a great Lord Adept… and a soldier, lots of battles-
