"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 reasonable 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."