“I was asleep,” he explained.
Arkus and Helmuth looked blank, and Julia said, “So was I—and I Read them!”
“And that, child,” said Lenardo, “is what saved my life. I thank you.”
“But why didn’t you Read them, my lord?” Helmuth asked.
“One of the most difficult lessons a Reader must learn,” Lenardo explained, “is not to Read in his sleep. It is not that he might discover something but that he might reveal something, for no one can control his own dreams.”
“I still don’t understand,” Arkus said. “Who could Read your dreams?”
“Julia or any other Reader. Where I come from, Arkus, people with varying degrees of Reading ability are as common as people with varying degrees of Adept talent are here. In the empire, a Reader with a slight talent—as you have a slight Adept talent—would be trained in an Academy to make the most he could of his ability. Can you imagine the chaos in an Academy full of children if each time one had a nightmare, it was broadcast to all the others? And what of the traumas of growing up? Consider how you might have felt had your adolescent fantasies been broadcast to all your fellow soldiers in training.”
Arkus blushed scarlet. “I see,” he murmured.
“But protection from embarrassment is not the main reason a Reader must guard his sleep. Theoretically, a stronger Reader might guide the dreams of a lesser one, specifically to elicit information. That is now a forbidden technique, for Readers are not gods. Because that technique, developed for teaching and for treating some of the problems Readers have, was in the past vilely misused, now every Reader is taught self-protection from earliest childhood. I shall have to teach Julia—a difficult task, as it means staying awake for many nights, monitoring her sleep. I fear it will have to wait until our situation here is much more stable.”
“My lord,” said Helmuth, “you are going to have to tell us how to protect you.”
“Yes,” added Arkus. “This incident tonight should have been prevented. Twice you have proved that you could Read danger and prepare for it, even recognize poisoned wine so that no one could be harmed. It crossed my mind last evening that after you revealed yourself as a Reader, I should increase the guard here, but then I thought, no, you will warn us far in advance of any attack. How much more effective to let your people see that you have no more need of an armed guard than the strongest Lord Adept.”
“I haven’t, except when I’m asleep,” said Lenardo.
“But you must tell us when you are vulnerable,” Helmuth insisted. “A Lord Adept must have protection when he has used up his strength in applying his powers. Now that we know you must be guarded while you sleep, we will protect you.”
“I’m still not used to thinking of myself as needing protection,” Lenardo explained. “A clean battle is one thing, but assassins in the night—”
“You defeated them,” Sandor put in. “No need to spread the word that you had even a small wound. Try your shoulder, my lord. Any soreness left?”
“No, Sandor. Thank you very much.”
“Sandor is right,” said Helmuth. “It won’t hurt at all to let your people think you’re invulnerable. Mutiny, poison, assassination—and there you are, unscathed, while your attackers are all dead or scheduled for execution. The word will spread tomorrow, my lord. With Bril dead, there is no one with a personal grudge. This should be the last attempt on your life until your people have a chance to see how you rule. And if you rule well, it may be the last attack ever.”
* * * * * * *
Before the executions, Lenardo had the distasteful task of Reading the condemned men to discover whether they had acted alone or represented a larger group of malcontents. It was a skill he had learned years ago, interrogating savage prisoners for the Aventine Army. To his relief, he found that Bril had trusted no one but the three who had joined him, formerly wealthy businessmen with whom he had often traded financial favors.
When Lenardo stood once more on the steps, bracing himself to witness the executions, Julia joined him. “I told you to go to the watchtower, child.”
“They tried to kill you. I want to see them die.” Sensing that he would have her removed bodily, she tried a different tack. “Please, my lord. I must learn my duty.”
Lenardo waved Sandor over. “Julia insists on witnessing the executions. I’ll help her block the pain, but if it becomes too much for her, I want you to put her to sleep.”
“It won’t be too much,” Julia insisted.
Lenardo was astonished at the girl’s strength. He showed her how to block the worst pain of the men being flogged to death, but she had little control, and both of them were sick and shaking by the time the last of the attackers passed out. By Lenardo’s order, they were not revived; the beatings continued until all three hearts had stopped.
Faint and nauseated, Lenardo stood his ground while the bodies were cut down. Greg and Vona stepped forward, and purifying fire consumed the bodies. Lenardo could not help but recall the burnt-out canyon in which Galen had died. A few bones were all they had ever found of the four Adepts and one Reader destroyed by powers Lenardo guided. Scavengers had made it impossible to know which of the scattered bones were whose.
Bril and his henchmen may not be accorded funeral rites, Lenardo thought, but at least their bodies were not desecrated .
The crowd broke up in silence, and Julia collapsed at Lenardo’s feet. He picked her up, but Sandor quickly took the child.
“Come inside and lie down yourself, my lord.”
Inside, Julia came to, threw up, and began to return to normal. “I should have had you carried to the tower,” Lenardo told her.
“No,” she insisted. “People mustn’t think we’re afraid to deal out punishment just because it hurts us.”
He agreed with her in principle. The savage child seemed to understand instinctively what he was learning through trial and error, but he was faintly repelled at the way she sought to turn her abilities into power over others. And yet that is what I must learn in order to achieve a treaty with the empire.
* * * * * * *
As word spread that the new lord was a Reader, the population shifted. People fled across borders or into the hills, swelling the ranks of the hill bandits. In the city, as people came out of shock, Arkus’ troops had their hands full as fights broke out between those willing to give their strange new lord a chance and those who feared his nonAdept status.
Even those on Lenardo’s side resented his attempts to stop the regrowth of certain occupations; they were used to thievery, gambling, and prostitution as normal daily activities.
Helmuth advised Lenardo to punish theft and accept the other activities. “Sex doesn’t harm ordinary people, my lord, and if some are foolish enough to pay for it, let them.”
Lenardo sighed. In the Aventine Empire, prostitution was taxed along with everything else. Gambling would never stop—the problem was to prevent cheating. “Where is all the money coming from?” he asked. “We confiscated what the looters stole.”
“You’ve been paying your army regularly.”
“Helmuth, how can I allow—”
“My lord, you are worrying over which way the wind blows. Unless you plan to start a fire, it doesn’t matter.”
In the old man, Lenardo Read the wisdom of experience. “We’ve enough to do without starting fires, but all reports of anyone robbed or cheated come directly to me. It’s easy enough for a Reader to discover who’s lying.”
Lenardo was constantly grateful for Helmuth’s advice. When the old