Dragonlord of the Savage Empire se-2

by Jean Lorrah

  At that, she lifted her face up, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to kiss her again. This time it was more successful-they seemed to fit together. As he pressed his lips to hers, her mouth yielded, softening invitingly, and a charge of pure desire struck through him. Pleasure blurred the edges of his fear. It became harder to think, easier to act.

  He felt a strange yearning to get closer to her. He could Read her hesitant desire but could not reach her mind. As if physical closeness could compensate, he held her tighter, his hands seeking over her body but encountering only the fabric of her gown where he sought to feel flesh on flesh.

  Finally he found the tiny hooks fastening her gown, fumbling as he fought a wish to tear the fabric. That violent notion brought him back to reality long enough to complete the task while he made a decision. It’s up to Aradia now. I want her, and I’ll take her if she’ll let me. He didn’t pause to question when his duty to stop Aradia from trying to rule the world had become his personal desire. His touch-starved body merely acted, feeling Aradia pliant, willing, shyHe couldn’t remember getting out of his own clothing, but he was naked and was trying to find Aradia beneath layers of filmy undergarments, until he finally stripped away the last one and she stood pale and shimmering before him, veiled now only with the soft aura of her hair.

  He couldn’t even pause to look at her but lifted her and knelt to lay her in the bed. In his hasty and inexperienced passion, when he kissed her aggressively, their teeth met in a painful jolt. But her soft outcry only inflamed him. She was his now, helpless beneath him. He was annoyed momentarily when her hair got in his mouth, shifting his weight when her sense of suffocation reached him, but at the core he took her on a rush of power such as he had never known before.

  Emotion peaked. With a cry of triumph at the burst of total pleasure, Lenardo dropped panting, sweating, onto Aradia’s breast, burnt out and unbelievably satisfied. The last thing he felt was her hands pushing at him until he slid off her, feeling somehow that he ought to investigate why her feelings seemed so distant from his, but he was too content, too tired.

  Blackness claimed him.

  Lenardo woke to the thob of a headache. It was dark, almost midnight. Instead of the pale square of his window, there was milky grayness all around him, the night color of Aradia’s white pavilion. Memory flooded back. His first instinct was to run, but it hurt incredibly when he moved his head, and there was AradiaDespite the pain, he Read her. She was curled up with her back to him, now wearing a long-sleeved, high-necked loose robe and clutching the covers about herself protectively, as if she feared attack. From the state of her body, he could Read that she had wept long and hard before falling into exhausted sleep.

  Lenardo was filled with utter self-loathing. He deserved however much his head ached and was surprised that he could Read at all. Now he knew why Master Clement had beaten him so that time. Was the beast loosed this afternoon locked within every man, or had his teachers recognized a particular danger in him and tried to restrain it with special strictness? If he had never left the Academy, he might never have known-Now I can never go, back.

  What was he to do? First things first: take himself out of Aradia’s way. She wouldn’t want to face him when she woke. Why am I still alive? he wondered. Can I have damaged her powers that much? He would certainly have wanted to kill anyone who had so brutally used him.

  The headache was interfering with his thinking. He got to his knees, swaying, and sought his clothes. He Read them, finally, neatly hung on one of the chairs, his sandals under it. Aradia’s attempts to restore order made his heart ache.

  As he struggled to his feet, the world tilted and the pain in his head redoubled. Fighting to suppress a moan, he winced in agony when the candles burst into flame.

  “Lenardo.”

  Helplessly, he turned to face Aradia. “Don’t leave,” she whispered.

  “How can you-” he began, but the effort of talking set the room spinning, and he staggered, putting both bands to his head as the jar of regaining his balance sent another lance through his skull.

  “You’re in pain,” Aradia gasped, and was at his side, one cool hand on his forehead. The pain dissolved; the world oriented itself, and he stared in astonishment into her anxious eyes.

  “How can you stand to touch me?” he asked.

  She looked away, suddenly shy. “I wanted it, too,” she said. “I didn’t know it would be like that.”

  She seemed so forlorn that he wanted to comfort her, started to reach for her, and pulled back-but she turned into his arms, clinging to him.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured helplessly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Not that way. “I’ll never do it again.”

  At the disgust in his tone, she backed off. “Am I repellent to you now?”

  He closed his eyes, trying to Read some sense in her attitude, but all he got was a haze of shame, anxiety, and self-recrimination.

  “Aradia-” If he could only touch her mind, assure her that his loathing was toward himself. But he could not. So he held out his hands, not reaching for her, just available. “Whatever you want.”

  What she wanted was to sleep in his arms, it seemed. He didn’t understand, but he was grateful. As he lay awake long after Aradia, he realized that he didn’t want to leave her. Perhaps not ever.

  The next morning, having faced down the guards when he left Aradia’s pavilion, Lenardo prepared to keep his appointment with Julia and discovered that his powers had indeed deteriorated. He could not leave his body; it was as if the lead weight of his animal nature held his spirit prisoner.

  Fast and meditation, he told himself. You cannot have regressed permanently. Those Readers who were judged capable of trying for the two highest ranks when they took their tests at eighteen were given instruction in leaving the body. Anyone who could not do it by the time he was twenty was judged a failure.

  And had I failed this miserably at that time, they would have married me off, and what I did last night I would have done to some poor female Reader-but worse, because I’d have assaulted her mind as well as her body.

  He cringed from that line of thought. Julia was waiting. He had to calm himself and try to reach her. He had Read farther than to Wulfston’s castle without leaving his body before. But that was indeed before.

  He knew where Wulfston was building his castle-actually expanding one of Drakonius’ old fortifications into a dwelling-but he had never been there or Read it before. By the time he found it, his relief was so intense that Julia caught it.

  //You’re late, Father. What’s wrong? Are you ill?// //Yes-no-not exactly. It’s nothing for you to worry about, Julia.// //I’m coming home!//

  //No!// He forced himself to be calm, feeling as if he were the eight-year-old.

  Julia was already up and running out of her room and down the hall to pound on Wulfston’s door and then burst in to declare, “Lord Wulfston, I’ve got to go home! It’s Father!” “What?” “He’s sick.” //No. No, Julia.//

  Wulfston was saying, “Hasn’t he contacted you?” “Yes. He’s… here. In my head, I mean.” Wulfston squatted down so that he could look directly into Julia’s eyes. “Lenardo, can you have Julia tell me what’s wrong? We can ride today if you need us.”

  //Tell Lord Wulfston -you got scared, Julia. There’s nothing wrong at all.//

  When Julia remained silent, Wulfston demanded, “What does he say?”

  “He says there’s nothing wrong. I don’t believe it.” Wulfston studied the girl’s face. “Julia, if you don’t like it here and want to go home, just tell me. Don’t make up stories about your father being ill.” //Tell him I am ill… in a way. It’s nothing serious.// “Father says he is ill, but it’s nothing serious,” Julia relayed. “He says his Reading powers are-im-paired?-but they’ll come back. You remember how his powers were impaired”-this time she was certain she had the word- “when he was so sick at Castle Nerius. It’s not nearly that bad, he’ll be fine, and he… he wants me
to stay here.” Then she added her own interpretation. “I think he’s scared about me.”

  “Well, you know, Julia,” said Wulfston, “some illnesses are much more serious for children than for adults. It’s probably something he doesn’t want you to catch. Now, don’t you worry. Aradia’s there to heal Lenardo.”

  //That’s right,// Lenardo told her. //Tell Wulfston that Aradia has already helped me.//

  When Julia relayed the message, Wulfston said, “There, you see? The healing has used up Lenardo’s strength. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  Between them, Lenardo and Wulfston calmed Julia, and she settled down to her lesson. However, Lenardo found it difficult to maintain contact over that distance and warned JuMa that when Wulfston took her on the promised excursion to the sea, she was not to worry if he could not reach her there. But surely, he told himself, my abilities will improve soon.

  If only he could take two or three days to fast and meditate. But there was work to be done, and he still had a guest. When he emerged from his lesson with Julia, he fully expected a polite message saying that Aradia was leaving. But there was none, and as he crossed the forum on his way to the day’s work site, there was no sign of activity about the white pavilion.

  He passed people busily rebuilding, who smiled and waved to him as they might on any other day. If the news had spread that the Lord of Zendi had spent the night in Aradia’s pavilion, he could not Read that anyone suspected what had happened there. He caught some curiosity about what a Lord Reader and a Lady Adept might be plotting together and slowly realized that those endowed with the full range of powers were not thought to have the same temptations of the flesh as ordinary people. How disillusioned they would be if they knew!

  Lenardo had started his rebuilding program from the forum outward. As the city now held approximately the number of people it was designed for, Lenardo hoped to put everything back in order and then expand the facilities as the population increased. Trade would grow again, he knew. People with talent and business skill would sort themselves out from the rest. The excellent Aventine road would keep Zendi flourishing, and Lenardo foresaw a time when it would outshine its heyday as a prime Aventine trade city.

  The sewer system under the forum had been cleared and repaired during Lenardo’s first month in Zendi, the ditch closed and paved over all along the main market way to Northgate. Water no longer flowed from the bathhouse pipe but bubbled merrily from the forum fountain and two others some distance away. Lenardo had been amused to discover that bringing the long-dry fountains to life was regarded as an act worthy of the most powerful Adept.

  Today, work continued along another main street branching out from the forum. Yesterday, Lenardo had Read a section of broken pipe, and when he joined the workmen this morning, he found them just laying the cobbles back over the completed repair. He Read the new pipe neatly joined to the old and said, “Good job. We’ll have this whole section finished before winter sets in.”

  The workmen picked up their tools and followed Lenardo as he Read the water and sewer pipes beneath the street. “The water pipes are sound now all the way to the fountain, but the sewer pipe is clogged solid. Vona?”

  They had tried various Adept abilities on the pipes and had found that fire was best at clearing them. As there was little air in the pipes, though, fire was difficult to sustain, and their two best fire talents alternated days and still could not work for long. There were patches where it was best to have the workmen dig up the pipes.

  “Show me, my lord,” said Vona, coming to stand beside Lenardo.

  “She was in her midforties, hair graying from auburn, calm and steady and easy to work with. She was also, Lenardo realized for the first time, a soft, warm woman. His reaction startled him, but it vanished instantly once he recognized it. Thank the gods, I can control the beast when I try!

  To enable Vona to visualize the blockage, Lenardo chalked the dimensions of the clogged pipe on the paving stones and then held a stick upright over the center, marking it as he said, “This deep to the top of the pipe, this deep to the bottom.”

  Vona studied the markings and then sat down cross-legged in the roadway and began to concentrate. Heat smoldered through the debris in the pipe. Parts of it charred, but not enough to unblock the pipe. Lenardo told Vona what was happening, encouraging her. But as her heart pounded and her breathing grew ragged, he had to stop her.

  “Sorry, men, you’ll have to dig this one up,” he told them, and chalked the joinings of the pipe on the roadway.

  When Vona had rested, she and Lenardo moved down the street, where they removed two other clogs in the pipe and located another that would not respond. Soon lunch arrived. Lenardo, who had not been able to face breakfast, found his appetite returned. The workmen and Vona ate at least three times what Lenardo did, including the usual large slices of meat, but the novelty of Lenardo’s vegetarian diet had worn off, and talk was of other things.

  When he was sure that Vona would not faint along the way, Lenardo sent her home and directed the workmen to the second section of pipe to be dug up. The second pipe was harder to get at, for it had at some time leaked around the joining, and the earth surrounding it had become as solid as stone. Clay pipe was scarce. They had enough to replace without breaking any that could be salvaged.

  As they approached the pipe, Lenardo took a pick and began to work around the most delicate area himself, enjoying putting his back into the hard labor. The afternoon was warm, and all of them stripped to the least clothing possible. Lenardo took off his tunic and refastened it around his waist as a sort of loincloth.

  He was concentrating on the difficulty of landing heavy blows to break through the mortarlike earth without striking the clay pipe, when he was interrupted by a feminine voice.

  “What in the world are you doing?”

  Lenardo turned to find Aradia watching him in surprise and amusement.

  “My lord’s doing work we can’t, milady,” the head of the work crew immediately said defensively, “nor our Adept talents can’t handle it.”

  “We’re clearing a blocked pipe,” Lenardo explained.

  “By hand? When you have a Lady Adept available?”

  “Lady Aradia, you are my guest,” said Lenardo. “I did not invite you to clean the sewers.”

  She burst into rich laughter and said, “Come out of there, all of you. Why should you put such hard labor into something I can do in a moment?”

  The workers were quick enough to scramble out of the hole, with a grateful “Yes, my lady.” Lenardo climbed out more slowly and explained the situation, trying very hard not to be embarrassed.

  As Aradia did it, the job was easy. The pipe did not have to be dug up and its contents scraped out; rather, when fire did not work, she concentrated, and the impacted mass crumbled into dust that would wash away as soon as water was turned into the pipe.

  “Now,” she said, “is there anything more like that? As long as I’m here, Lenardo, let me help you. I will certainly never hesitate to call on your services.”

  It occurred to him that she might be testing her powers, and so he said, “If you really don’t mind, you can save us several days of work,” and led her into the next street on his agenda, telling the workmen to quit for the day once they had filled in their last dig.

  Aradia made no reference to yesterday’s debacle; nor did she seem the least bit embarrassed. She wants to forget it, Lenardo thought. So do I, if I only could. But he was surprised at her ease with him.

  They worked their way up the street toward the forum, with Lenardo Reading and Aradia clearing the pipes. Where there were broken spots, Lenardo chalked instructions for the workmen to follow tomorrow, but with Aradia’s help he completed as much in an hour as he could do with the workmen in two days.

  Perhaps it was the incredible mundaneness of the task that made it so natural for them to work together. Healing a sorcerer of a brain tumor, fighting in a battle won by Adept power-those were rare occurr
ences that by now seemed almost dreams, or stories the bards sang. Their repair of pipes was real, the sort of unromantic but extremely important work that Readers and Adepts would one day routinely do together.

  “Why are you so intent on the pipes?” Aradia asked.

  “It’s easy to repair them now,” Lenardo explained. “Once there’s heavy traffic in these streets, such repairs become a nuisance. This quadrant of the city will house everyone for the winter. These are old Aventine buildings. The houses.have hot-water heating systems that I hope to restore. But maybe I won’t have to restore them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Drakonius rewarded his officers with property like this, letting them take whatever rent they could force from the tenants. I also plan to give out some of these buildings as rewards, but I hope the new owners will put them in repair and rent out the apartments reasonably.”

  “Apartments,” said Aradia. “Rents.” She shook her head. “I chose the right person to give a city. I’ve never lived in one, so I had no idea how a city is run. It doesn’t have to be ugly and duty, overcrowded, and infested with rats, does it?”

  “I take it you were in Zendi when it was under Drakonius’ rule?”

  “Only when I had to be. I don’t think it would have occurred to me to begin improvements with the underground pipes. In fact, I wouldn’t have known they were there.”

  “But you would never have allowed garbage in the streets,” said Lenardo. “Before we cleared the first sewer line, our biggest problem was persuading people not to throw everything into the streets but to take it to the waste stations to be burned. Now we’re trying to teach people what cannot go into the drains. I didn’t realize they didn’t know, and our newly cleared sewer line was clogged the very day it was opened.”