"And I have to see that by chance it doesn't bounce right on me," Lenardo said with a laugh. "Would that I could, not that I have often been threatened by falling rocks." Recalling the earthquake that had almost brought the Adigia Academy down on him, he added, "Only once." Then he said seriously, "Will you stay here in Zendi long enough to teach some of this to Arkus and Josa and the others? I don't think they've had any formal training in using their talents."
"People with a single talent usually don't. Wulfston and I worked with a few around Castle Nerius. My father's idea of Academies for Adepts, though-"
"Why not?" asked Lenardo.
She took his hand. "Think a moment. Suppose you had a group of people with Adept talents, trained since childhood. Together, they might be as strong as a Lord Adept or even two or three. And if they were guided by a Reader…"
"That is the second time you have suggested it, Aradia."
"Yes, for if it is on my mind, it will be on others'. Here, in your land, is where the first Academy must be, protected by the lands of your allies. Because you are not an Adept, it will not appear to those who might be your enemies as a preparation to mount an offensive. As time passes and you do not use your trained Adept talents to conquer, you will earn more trust."
"Aradia," he said in amazement.
"No, Lenardo, I have not lost my head along with my heart. You must be prepared to defend yourself at all times. Lilith, Wulfston, and I know you. We have fought side by side. Other allies will come."
In the next few days, Aradia spent part of each day teaching Lenardo's people with Adept talents to use them more efficiently. She also helped in the construction work and the continuing job of repairing the water and sewer systems. Their bath together at the end of each day became a ritual, and by now everyone knew that it was no rumor that Lenardo spent his nights in Aradia's pavilion.
However, they did not make love again. It was enough to lie in one another's arms, warm and content. Reading what little he could of Aradia, Lenardo suspected that she was waiting to see how much of her Adept strength returned. As he hoped that his own skills would also approach normal again, he curbed the desire that the sight and touch of her body awoke in him and learned to appreciate their simple nearness. His range of Reading seemed to be returning to normal, as was the clarity of his perceptions. Something kept him from further attempts to leave his body; perhaps it was that he was so thoroughly enjoying being within it.
Soon Wulfston would bring Julia home, though, and before that she would get her promised excursion to the sea. Lenardo would have to try his powers then and face explaining his apparent hypocrisy to his daughter on her return. Julia would not be in Zendi for an hour before she would know of his time spent with Aradia, and her devious little mind would quickly draw the proper, or improper, conclusion.
But Lenardo would deal with those problems when they arose. For the moment, he had a growing relationship with Aradia, and a sweet contentment he had not known even in the Academy.
One cool, bright morning, Lenardo was listening to Helmuth's report on agricultural plans for next year, doing nothing more than agree, as he knew little about farming. As usual, he was neither trying to Read Helmuth nor completely blocking against Reading.
Suddenly a shock of pure terror struck through his gut, along with the sensation of being hurled upward, falling, and intense, unbearable pain. He screamed in agony before he could shut it out, and then he found Helmuth on his feet, his face white, staring at him. "My lord-"
"An explosion," Lenardo gasped. "Near Northgate. The man's still alive. Get Sandor!" As he ran out, he added, "Get Aradia. Hurry!"
He was breathless by the time he arrived at the site of the tragedy, both from running halfway across the city and from Reading the victim's pain. Aradia was already on the scene, trailed by Greg and Vona. She glanced up at Lenardo, saying, "I heard him scream," and returned her concentration to the injured man, putting him to sleep.
It was easy enough to see what had happened. One of the workers digging around the foundation of a warehouse, to repair a crack before it weakened the structure, had struck a yet-uncleared sewer line with a pocket of gas in it. His metal pick must have produced a spark, and the pipe had exploded, slamming the man against the wall of the building.
He had slight superficial burns, not serious, but the blow had broken his left arm and leg, which had hit the wall.
"Where is the internal bleeding?" Aradia was asking. How did she know that? Then Lenardo actually looked at the man he had been Reading and saw that his lips were turning blue. "Two broken ribs have pierced his lung."
"Guide me," said Aradia, laying her hands over the man's side.
This, Lenardo understood, was working against nature, forcing the broken ribs to withdraw and return to place. An Aventine surgeon might have done it by cutting into the man's chest, but in the time it took, the patient might bleed to death. If he lived, he would develop an infection untreatable with the antiseptics they understood. But Aradia could work in the knowledge that if she saved the man immediately, she could drive out any infection with healing fire.
When the ribs were back in place, Lenardo Read the bleeding veins and arteries, while Aradia, in such rapport with him that a single word seemed to guide her to the right spot, joined them and then closed the punctures in the lung tissue.
The man was out of danger now. Worried that Aradia would use up her strength, Lenardo said, "Let Sandor take care of his burns and broken bones. He's good at that."
"They're not simple fractures," Aradia said. "He'll be lame if his leg is not set right."
Sandor, who had been hovering nearby for some time, said, "It's a blessing you are here, my lady. I don't think I could have saved him, even with Lord Lenardo's help. But now we should take him to my house so that after the bones are set, he won't have to be moved again."
Several boards were quickly lashed together, and the injured man was carefully lifted onto them and carried to the house near the bathhouse, where the infirmary was. It was an elegant home, with which Sander's wife was greatly pleased, although Lenardo's main motivation in giving it to the healer was the central location and the size, which permitted a number of rooms to be used as a hospital and still leave plenty of room for the family.
Aradia did not seem inordinately fatigued. "When we healed Nerius," Lenardo said, "although it took a long time because the work was so delicate, it was certainly not so much work as you have done already today. Yet both you and Wulfston were so exhausted that you collapsed."
"Oh, no," she replied, "that was enormously harder work. We didn't just move my father's tumor, we destroyed it. There was no Way to burn it or otherwise remove it in a natural way. It had to be disintegrated, made not to be. That was more against nature than any work I have ever done before or since."
Made not to be. A chill went through Lenardo as he realized the implications of what he had Read but not understood. I didn't understand because I could not conceive of such a thing. He still could not, but he let it pass. There was work to be done.
Lenardo, Aradia, and Sandor set to work on the injured man's arm and leg. It was tedious work, combining physical manipulation wherever they could with Adept influence to align the bones and set every chip and splinter back in place. Again, Lenardo found an astonishing rapport with Aradia. The work did not seem to tire her beyond what the same amount of physical labor would have done. Perhaps she had regained her full strength. Lenardo was glad. He no longer wanted to blunt her powers.
When they finally finished, it was late afternoon. Sandor, pale and drawn, was assured that his patient was healing now and was sent off to sleep himself.