Dragonlord of the Savage Empire se-2

by Jean Lorrah

  Even her emotions were beyond Reading. Every defense was up. Before Lenardo could say anything, she continued.

  “My parents wanted their own child as heir. They risked their powers for me. My father recovered… but my mother-”

  Lenardo knew the story. Aradia’s mother had blamed the child for her diminished powers. “It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said quickly.

  “But it might be! I hardly remember my mother, but because of her I would not dare emulate Lilith. If I ever decide to have a child, I want the father of that child with me to raise and protect and train it if I cannot. As my father was there for me.”

  “Surely any man worth considering would want-” She turned, her eyes flashing. “You think it is that easy? A fully empowered lord who would not simply take the child for himself and cast me aside if my powers were permanently damaged?” “There is Wulfston-” “Wulfston is my brother.”

  “What I started to say is that Wulfston would protect you in such a situation. But he is not your brother by blood, Aradia.”

  “He is in every other way,” she replied. “If my father had taken Wulfston ward instead of son, raised us not to think of each other as brother and sister, we might have been drawn to each other, or we might not. Father wanted us to have a tie as strong as blood, not dependent on attraction after we reached adulthood, and not to be severed if and when we each chose other partners. An unbreakable alliance, Lenardo. Surely you can see that there is no changing our sense of family now. Wulfston and I could not possibly be lovers. We could never have a child.”

  He had known that, and yet it was somehow reassuring to have it formally stated that Wulfston’s protectiveness of Aradia, particularly when they had first met, had no other basis than brotherly devotion. But why should he care? He had no designs on Aradia; he even had a potential heir and thus no reason ever to risk his own powers. Yet if he were to risk them for anyone-He cut off the absurd train of thought. Aradia would seek an Adept to father her child one day, not a Reader. She was trusting to his friendship in revealing her concerns this way. He had no right to the urge he felt to take her in. his arms and promise her his care and protection.

  She was watching him warily. Deliberately, he forced his tense muscles to relax and sat back in his chair. “If we make the peace we seek, no Adept will have to have such fears of losing power, even temporarily. Already our alliance protects us.”

  Aradia’s violet eyes grew dark with… what? Surprise? Then she shook off the moment’s vulnerability and accepted his change of mood. Coming to sit opposite him again, she said, “We must have more than an alliance. Would Julia retain alliance with me if you were gone? Would Lilith’s son honor his mother’s commitments? Who protects Julia’s rights if you die while she is too young to rule? If any one of us should die tomorrow, war could erupt over the disposition of our property.”

  “I see,” said Lenardo, grimly noting Aradia’s tenacity. “That must happen often.”

  “There is only one way to stop it: with a central government that takes precedence over the local lords and has the strength to maintain order. In that one thing, the Aventine Empire is right. They have no internal wars over who owns what.”

  “No wars,” he agreed. “Fights and occasionally murders; the empire is by no means crime-free. But no internal wars or cities destroyed as Zendi was. Disputes are settled in the courts.”

  “Then you agree with me?”

  “That a central government would benefit our people? Certainly. However, the kind of government-”

  “A government of the strongest,” she said. “A natural government with the strongest of all Adepts at its head. Wulfston and Lilith fear that their lands would be taken, but that is not my intention. They would rule their own way, as would you, Lenardo. All the Lords Adept would be part of my council.”

  “Your council?”

  “Only the most powerful of Adepts can make this plan work. You would all be bound to me, your armies and your powers at my disposal, but in return you would be protected, and your chosen heirs after you. For example, I have promised Lilith that if anything happened to her, I would take her son as my apprentice. But suppose she died suddenly? Before I got there, her neighbors could overrun her land and kill her son. But if I were Empress, no one would dare. I could hold the land of an heir until he was grown, and then, provided only that he proved a true Lord Adept-or Reader-he would receive it. All would answer to me. If a Lord Adept died without an heir, instead of his neighbors warring through his land, I would choose who was to rule it, peacefully.”

  “Why you, Aradia?” Lenardo asked.

  “Because I can do it. No, because you and I can do it together. We can set up a government that will long outlive us. We are fated to do it.” She took his right hand and traced the dragon’s head on his forearm with one finger. “You have taken the red dragon as your symbol.”

  “That just happened. Aradia, surely you don’t believe in that old saying-”

  “Then you’ve heard it. You know we are meant to seize the chance, now, while I am the only Adept with a Reader to guide me.”

  “You could start a war. Is that how you plan to achieve peace?”

  Aradia shook her head. “You’ve changed so much, but you still have much to learn. It is necessary to demonstrate power in order to rule peacefully. Even you have had to have people executed.”

  “Three in all, and all in the first few days I was here.”

  “You see? Demonstrate power on a few, and the rest come into line.”

  “I won’t help you, Aradia.”

  “Not today,” she said, holding his hand in both of hers. “I will be thirty years old next spring. The last and slowest growth of my powers will come in the next five years, and in that time I and my allies have our own lands to rebuild. Then, Lenardo, you will help me convince others, or perhaps Julia will.”

  It was a patent threat. As she stood there, gently holding his hand, she could as easily kill him. She could stop his heart. If she didn’t want a body to dispose of, she could burn him to ashes. Then she could take Julia and bend the child to her will. Was Wulfston a part of the plot? Had he taken Julia out of the way in case Aradia decided to kill Lenardo?

  “Five years,” he said.

  “Oh, perhaps not so long. You will learn, Lenardo. Every day you are more like one of us. Look how happy you have made your people, and think how much better, safer, their lives could be.”

  When Aradia left him, Lenardo sat down on the window ledge, numb. I thought I knew her! I thought she truly expected me to make a treaty with the empire. What is she? Benevolent dictator, true, but is that not what I have become? Now she wants to rule the world, and who is to stop her? I can pretend to cooperate… until she tests me.

  What was he to do? His first instinct was to ride after Wulfston and bring Julia home. Yet he had sensed sincerity in Wulfston’s indignation when Aradia first brought up her plan. Julia might be safer with Wulfston than in Zendi just now.

  He must convince Aradia that she was wrong. She believed that might made right. He had been in the savage lands long enough to know that there was no use trying to bridge that basic philosophical gap.

  Aradia had thought out reasons for her plan that were sound enough. If she could rule peacefully as she described, people would be better off. She would hardly take seriously the argument that power corrupts and would deny that anything she had said was a threat against Lenardo or Julia.

  How can I convince her she’s wrong? I can’t.

  He felt as frustrated as he had months ago, when he had found himself a helpless prisoner in Aradia’s castle. He had won her respect then… through his powers. Power was one thing Aradia respected. She considered herself to be the most powerful practicing Adept. What would convince her that she did not have enough power to become Empress?

  A thought licked at the back of his mind, from a realm so absurd he could not even let it take form. Yet having considered and discarded all reasonab
le approaches to the problem, Lenardo finally allowed the absurd thought to surface: The only thing that permanently weakens an A-dept’s power is sexual activity.

  And what am I to do, try to rape her? He could think of more pleasant ways to commit suicide.

  The thought was a long time coming, but it finally thrust, its way into his consciousness: I must seduce her.

  It was surely the most ridiculous thought he had ever entertained. What did he know about women? And what would happen if he succeeded? His own powers would be impaired-but how badly? Only failed Readers ever engaged in sex, to produce new generations of Readers. No Master Reader had ever…

  If those Readers who did not reach the top two ranks still retained some Reading ability, a Master Reader ought to retain a great deal. Certainly he would lose range, accuracy-exactly the things that made him most valuable to Aradia in battle. That was all to the good. And if he lost it all-if he found himself blind even to thoughts-was it not a necessary sacrifice to stop Aradia?

  The thought terrified him. No one ever loses it all, he told himself firmly. He would certainly be able to continue to rule Zendi, to teach Julia until he could make peace with the empire and get her proper tutors. And then, with Readers spreading into other lands, Aradia would not be able to put her plan into action, no matter how much of her own power she might retain or recover.

  Very well, he had a plan.

  But by every god who had ever amused himself by dallying with human women, how was he ever going to implement it?

  Chapter Four

  It was afternoon, the time for men to use the bathhouse. Lenardo found several off-duty soldiers playing ball in the gymnasium and joined them, working up a sweat as he tried to banish his tension. When he finally slammed the ball with such force that the receiver was knocked over, one of the men called out, “You’re sure you’ve no Adept power, me lord?”

  He managed an almost natural laugh and said, panting, “Perhaps it’s contagious, eh?”

  As he helped the fallen soldier to his feet, the young man said, “Then stick around me, my lord, and see if Reading rubs off. Would that I could Read what’s happening in sweet Nerissa’s mind!”

  As the other men proceeded to tell him what they thought was on Nerissa’s mind, Lenardo excused himself and went to bathe. Even when he plunged into the pool of cold water, the last step in his daily routine, he was still unsettled.

  I can’t do it, he told himself as he toweled off and put on a clean tunic. It’s not something I’m capable of, nor something Aradia would succumb to. At once he felt better, until he remembered that that left him without a plan at all. Perhaps if he talked with her again…

  Emerging from the bathhouse, he walked across the forum to the white pavilion. Pepyi, one of Aradia’s retainers, was standing guard at the entrance. “Is the Lady Aradia within?” Lenardo asked.

  “Yes, my lord. One moment, please.”

  Almost at once, Peply came back, along with Aradia’s maid. “My lady will see you, Lord Lenardo. Please enter.”

  He threaded his way through the hanging that provided privacy to the large central area where Aradia’s furnishings were set out. Grass mats covered the paving stones of the forum; on them were set a small folding table and two chairs, a chest, and several tall candelabra, unlit now, as daylight filtered through the white silk. A bedroll covered with silken sheets and heaped with cushions occupied one end of the inner room formed by the hangings.

  Aradia was sitting at the table, wearing an amethyst silk dress; the surcoat she had worn earlier was folded neatly on top of the chest.

  “Come sit down, Lenardo,” she said, gesturing to the other chair. “Will you have some wine?”

  “Thank you.”

  With her back to him, Aradia poured the wine and produced two goblets, not one. So she acknowledged that they were not in accord. “Why have you come here?” she asked.

  He had no answer; he didn’t know what he hoped to accomplish.

  Aradia reached out to touch his damp hair. “You’re wet.”

  “I just came from the baths.”

  “Yes, you smell nice and clean. I’ve been using your baths every morning-such luxury! Did you know that your people are so mystified about your putting the baths in order before anything else that they’ve decided a Reader must immerse in water every day to keep his powers?”

  He laughed. “How did I miss Reading that bit of nonsense? No, Aradia. When I first came here, the entire population was infested with fleas and lice. I had to do something to prevent the spread of disease, and the bathhouse was there.”

  Aradia shuddered. “I’m glad you got rid of the fleas and lice before we got here!”

  “But an Adept can just-”

  “I’d rather not have them at all, thank you. Can we change the subject?”

  “Of course.”

  But she fell silent, sipping her,wine, and Lenardo followed suit. The wine was not the light beverage he had become used to. It was strong and spicy and seemed to go straight to his head. Aradia studied him over the rim of her goblet and then put it down and reached for his hand. Again, her fingers traced the brand on his forearm. “Tell me what you want for your people, Lenardo.” “Hmm?” He forced himself to concentrate. “After you rebuild Zendi, then what?” Aradia asked, pouring him more wine.

  He ignored the wine and said flatly, “You know my plans. They have not changed.”

  “A treaty with the Aventine Empire?” “You once thought it a good idea.” “I still do. I need skilled Readers, not untrained children, to carry out my plans. Go on-what else do you plan?”

  “I would like to see all my people comfortably clothed and housed and free to earn a living as they choose. There is terrible ignorance here; few people survive from the time before Drakonius took this land, none of them scholars, artists, or even skilled artisans. The younger men don’t even know how to hunt, as Drakonius allowed only his own huntsmen into the forests to get meat for his tables, and be damned if the peasants were starving.”

  “Lenardo, that is a way of keeping Adepts from flourishing. Keep meat a rarity among most of your populace, and you won’t find a Lord Adept suddenly grown up among the peasants to challenge you.”

  Lenardo felt a sickness at the pit of his stomach. “Deliberately stunt the growth of their powers? Aradia… in your lands-”

  “You have seen how I feed my people. I want everyone with Adept power to use it to the fullest-for me. Diet cannot create powers a person was not born with, but inadequate diet can blunt Adept powers just as it can make a child physically and mentally weak. Your Julia, now-”

  “Ironically, Drakonius’ restrictions worked in her favor. Apparently she got enough-barely enough-to eat, though.

  She’s certainly bright, and she’s growing like a weed now that someone’s taking care of her.”

  “What happened to her mother?” Aradia asked.

  “She disappeared as soon as I lifted travel restrictions. I don’t know why.”

  “I do. If Drakonius had adopted a child, he would certainly have killed her parents to be sure she had no other ties.”

  Lenardo sighed. “It will be a long time before my people get over Drakonius. Still, I don’t think Julia misses her mother very much. She couldn’t communicate with her the way she does with me. I can’t really explain to a nonReader. What seems odd is that I feel the same closeness with Adepts-and look at Julia and Wulfston.”

  “People with extraordinary powers,” said Aradia. “We have a great deal in common.”

  She continued to hold his hand with one of hers. Lenardo waited, somehow unable to initiate further conversation when he was so aware of her touch. He had never seen her like this, apparently open and vulnerable. In a sense, she was on vacation. She had no responsibilities here; she was his guest. Everything was up to Lenardo.

  Not really believing that he was going to try his plot, Lenardo remained waiting, suspended. Maybe they could just talk, come to a better understanding
if Aradia were relaxed…

  Aradia uncurled the fingers of Lenardo’s hand, staring at the palm. “You have such nice hands. Why don’t you ever touch people?”

  “I touch people-”

  “To heal. To lift Julia up onto Wulfston’s horse. But you never really touch.”

  “Readers don’t.”

  “I’m not a Reader,” she said, placing her palm over his, her fingers tickling the sensitive skin on the inside of his wrist. “Julia thinks you don’t care about her because you don’t hug or kiss her.”

  “Julia can Read directly how I feel about her… but you can’t,” he said, his heart pounding in terror at his boldness.

  He hadn’t expected the opportunity, and surely it would never come again. Take one step and see what happens, he told himself firmly. He closed his hand around hers, and when she didn’t pull away, he leaned forward and kissed her.

  His position was awkward. He could not remain kissing her long, just a touching of lips that brought no answering response from her except a pang of startlement. Before his muscles went into spasm, he sank back into his chair, waiting for Aradia’s reaction.

  She blushed but gripped his hand more tightly. She had once told him that she could make good use of energy created by frustrated desire. Probably she thought that she could kiss him safely enough, let herself become aroused, and then stop short. If she did, he had lost nothing except his composure. But if he could Read her feelings well enough to tip the balanceHe got up, drawing Aradia to her feet. She made no resistance when he took her into his arms but held him, her head against his shoulder. Her quickened breathing and faint trembling told him that she was excited, and he Read her heart beating as rapidly as his own. Only once before in his life had Lenardo held a woman thus, and for the first time he blessed that innkeeper’s daughter, only wishing that they had not been caught quite so soon.

  Despite the close contact, he felt no unpleasant overburdening of emotion. It was more pleasant than holding Julia, something highly charged with expectancy communicating from Aradia’s body to his. A faint, clean smell rose from her, the sweet aroma of her hair. During the days of ceremonial appearances, she had worn it in intricate arrangements of braids and curls. Now she had pulled it into a simple coil at the nape of her neck; it looked as if all that held it were three gold combs set with amethysts. Experimentally, he pulled out the combs, and her pale blond hair tumbled free.