Savage Empire

To appearances, Nerius was dead too, but Lenardo Read a lingering spark of life in that frail frame. His heart beat sluggishly, and his breathing was slow and shallow. Somehow, he clung to life.

Aradia raised her eyes, her grief a palpable presence as she sought her father's pulse.

"He's alive," Lenardo supplied. "He's very weak."

Tear-filled violet eyes turned to him. "Thank you," Aradia whispered and bent her head again.

"Aradia-don't!" said Wulfston.

She blinked at him, as if hardly seeing him. "Our father-"

"He's dying, Aradia. Let him sleep away in peace."

"No!"

Wulfston took her shoulders, turning her to look at the old woman's body. "It's not just himself he's hurting any more. Nerius is killing now."

"No," she repeated.

"Yes. Look. Vinga is dead. He's striking living things, Aradia. He killed Lenardo's horse, and he almost killed me."

She looked up at him. "What?"

Wulfston nodded grimly. "Nerius hurled one of the spears in the lower hall. If Lenardo hadn't been Reading…"

"What am I to do?" Aradia asked sadly.

"You know what you must do," Wulfston replied with gentle firmness.

Reluctantly, Aradia nodded. "He must never regain consciousness." Tears flowed down her pale cheeks.

Wulfston drew her against him, stroking her hair. "He's not really conscious. You know Nerius would never hurt Vinga or me. He doesn't know what he's doing, Aradia."

"I know," she said, pushing away from him and turning deliberately to look at her father. Then she went to kneel beside the body of the old woman, closing her eyes. "Poor Vinga. No, Father would never turn on you. He knew how you loved him."

"I'll carry her down," said Wulfston, "and send someone up to watch Nerius. Go and rest."

Aradia rose and saw Lenardo by the door. "You," she said flatly. "Now what am I going to do with you?"

It was the wrong time to ask to be let go, so Lenardo stood silently, feeling the false strength of excitement deserting him, wondering if his knees would give way before the pressure of her emotionless gaze.

"He needs to sleep," said Wulfston. "So do I."

"You saved Wulfston's life?"

"I knocked him out of the way of the spear."

A tired smile barely curved her lips. "Wulfston is very precious to me. He is my brother. Lenardo, need I send for the carpenter to bar your door, or will you give me your word not to leave your room until someone comes for you?"

He realized it was a major concession, made in a moment of emotional exhaustion. If he hesitated, she would think again and bar the door or set a guard. He was too tired to try to move tonight anyway.

"You have my word."

Perhaps it was that concession, along with the fact that Lenardo Read no second-thought guard outside his room in the morning, that made him less resentful toward Aradia the next day. Or perhaps it was the way sleeplessness had imprinted purplish bruises in the fair skin under her eyes. It was almost noon when she came to Lenardo's room; the kitchen maid had brought his breakfast some hours before.

"Did you sleep well?" Aradia asked politely. "Indeed," he replied truthfully, "but you did not get much rest, I see. How is your father?"

She glanced upward. "If you really cared, you could-"

"No, Aradia, I could not. That is, I would not Read your father merely to satisfy my curiosity. Readers respect the privacy of non-Readers."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know. My father is still alive, in the same state I put him into last night. I must leave him so, to die." A tear escaped her control, sliding down her cheek. She made no move to wipe it away but set her chin determinedly to avoid further emotional display. "We must talk about… you."

"Aradia," he said, "would you like me to Read your father?"

"Read him?"

"I can at least tell you if he is in pain; and sometimes knowing the cause of an illness allows one to find a cure. Please-don't get your hopes up. I fear that all I shall find is a mind worn out with great age-"

"Age! Father is not yet sixty!"

"I'm sorry," he fumbled. "He looks so very old-"

"His illness. Lenardo, do you think you can discover why my healing powers have no effect?"

"I can try. But from what I've seen of your powers, I doubt I'll find any way to help that you haven't tried."

"Are you recovered enough?"

"For such Reading, yes. It won't require great effort, or extreme precision."

"Then come upstairs with me," she said eagerly. Aradia dismissed the woman seated at Nerius' bedside, telling her, "Go and rest, Yula, and come back in-half an hour."

When they were alone, Lenardo stood beside the bed, closed his eyes, and began to Read. Nerius' heartbeat and breathing were steadier than the night before. His mind was unReadable, but Lenardo feared it was that no thought or dream crossed it, rather than the fact that the man was an Adept.