He was ravenously hungry. Julia only picked at her bread and cheese, but Lenardo ate heartily. Then, anxious to be safely on the other side of the wall, they set out, Julia riding before Lenardo on the horse.
It was slow going, with the debris of the earthquake compounding the tangle of underbrush normal to the dense forest. The tired horse plodded, and Lenardo curbed his impatience, for the animal still had a long way to carry them.
By afternoon, they reached the breach in the wall. Here they had to walk and lead the horse, who did not want to venture over the loose rubble of rocks. By the time they slipped and slid their way across, Lenardo's ankle was sore again. He took his boot off lest the swelling force him to cut the leather off later.
Nonetheless, he breathed a sigh of relief. "We're home."
Julia was not impressed, for they had before them noth-I ing but the same dense forest they had been fighting their way through all day. "I'm tired," she said, slipping back to being a child again.
"Of course you are," Lenardo said reassuringly. "So am I. We won't go much farther today. Read with me."
//See that stream ahead, with the lovely pool? We'll stop there for the night. We can swim and get clean and put on clean clothes.//
Just as on the other side of the border, this area was too close to the wall for people to feel secure. An abandoned orchard still produced apples on gnarled old trees, while blackberries weighted the tangled vines under them. While Julia picked fruit, Lenardo found that a bent pin on a thong, baited with a crumb of bread, quickly caught two unwary fish from the stream. He was careful not to Read while he fished. There wasn't much mind to a fish, but Readers still rarely caught them themselves.
Now that they were on the Aventine side of the border, Lenardo felt free to relax, to build a fire, to broil the fish and make herb tea, to swim with Julia and wash their clothes.
As the sun lowered, the chilly air drove them to shore, where the fire and hot tea were welcome. It was pleasant to sit by the fire with Julia, making her practice the Aventine language. He had begun teaching her weeks ago, but since she had had no practice except with him, she had not developed fluency.
"Tomorrow," he told her, "we will be among people again. We don't want to be noticed, so you must let me do any talking that is necessary. And whenever I tell you, you must be careful not to Read."
"Why?"
"Because there will be other Readers about, and many of them know me. A male Reader would not be escorting a female discovery to an Academy, and besides, you Read far too well to be a newly wakened Reader. Once I get you to Tiberium and explain your situation to the Masters, you will continue to grow and use your powers. But until we get there, we must avoid rousing curiosity."
"Father, why can't a male Reader escort a female?"
He knew that she suspected the truth, and he would have a fight on his hands if he admitted it. He equivocated. "I taught you in Zendi because I was the only other Reader there. Here though, girls are always trained by women and boys by men. You will like your teachers, Julia, and make many new friends at the Academy, girls like yourself."
"But what about you?"
He looked into her round brown eyes, ready to cloud with tears. "I will always be your father," he said truthfully, and hid the pain that realization cost him.
She had indeed become his child, as much as if she were his own flesh and blood. Readers tried to keep themselves emotionally distant from the children they knew they would lose at six, seven, or eight. Some even avoided naming their children in a personal fashion. The Academies were full of young Readers named Primus or Secun-dus, Tertia or Puella.
The only Readers forbidden mental contact with one another were parents and children, at least until the children were grown. Children were always assigned to Academies far from where their families lived; the Academy must become their home, the Masters their parents, all Readers their brothers and sisters.
Julia could not fight sleep after another hard day. Lenardo covered her and kissed her forehead. For a moment, the whimsical notion played at the edges of his mind that they did not have to go on to Tiberium. They could stay here, build a house, live off the land. No one came here for months, maybe years at a time, and Readers could easily avoid company.
He dismissed the foolish notion, banked the fire, and settled back to Read all around them. No one for miles in any direction. No dangerous wild animals. He really should try to contact Master Clement, but before he could do so, he fell asleep.
Two days later, Lenardo and Julia rode into Tiberium. rThe weather had turned hot again, but Lenardo wore a long-sleeved tunic to cover the brand on his arm. In the crowds, they went completely unnoticed, just another pair of travelers. Lenardo's beard suggested that he might be a workman from one of the outlying provinces, traveling with his daughter.
Lenardo Read about him with the same odd sense of his own transparency that had kept Portia and Clement from noticing his eavesdropping. // I can keep Portia from knowing I'm Reading her, I can certainly fool any other Reader in Tiberian.
It was many years since he had been in the capital, not since his own testing for the rank of magister. The city was clean and beautiful, as he had wanted Zendi to be. It felt good to come home, even without knowing what fate awaited him. Julia would be safe here in Portia's Academy. What would become of Lenardo was another question. He had broken his vow of celibacy; he could not be readmitted to the Academy. Nonetheless, his Reading abilities had mysteriously increased. He didn't know why, but if his powers had reached this unheard-of state, what might a Master Reader achieve who had never defiled his body? Once he had demonstrated his increased abilities, the entire Council of Masters would want him alive and well for their study.
I will bargain for my life from a position of power, he thought wryly. That was one useful lesson Aradia had taught him; without that understanding, it was dangerous to have something other people wanted.
The sun was high in the sky. Lenardo found an inn, where he and Julia took a room and then had luncheon in the cool, dark tavern. In the heat, everyone was eating fruit and salad, and so their vegetarian Readers' diet provoked no curiosity. Soon the busy streets would empty, and the boys at the temporary Academy would be released from their studies in the heat of the day. Lenardo intended to go there and reveal himself to Clement and Torio.
Leaving Julia, who was actually willing to nap after the long journey, he set out on foot through the emptying streets. His ankle was almost completely healed; the short walk would not harm it. The students from the Academy at Adigia were still housed in an abandoned villa-adequate lodgings but not a proper building for their needs, and no room to expand.
The street door stood open. Lenardo entered, Reading some of the boys gathered in the shade by the courtyard fountain and others in their rooms. The marble building was cooler inside than out; most of the teachers and students were in their rooms, many of them napping. Something was missing in the atmosphere-a certain sense of hope and excitement that had characterized these same men and boys at Adigia.
He turned from the entry hall where visitors were greeted into a long corridor, expecting at every moment to be challenged, thinking of the surprise when he identified himself, for everyone here knew him. Several strong Readers were awake and Reading. By the time he reached the end of the hall, he should have been recognized or challenged half a dozen times-yet no one noticed him. Slowly, it dawned on him that he had achieved the legendary ability to Read without being Read. As if his mind had become completely absorbing, nonreflecting, he was un-Readable among Readers.
To test the hypothesis, he deliberately Read the next person he found awake: Decius. The boy was sitting on his bed, massaging the stump of the leg he had lost in the battle at Adigia. Leaning against the bed was the peg leg he was learning to use; it made the stump sore, and the boy was now Reading carefully to determine whether today's was the bruising pain he had to endure until he gained strength and callouses or whether he had best to go back to his crutch for the rest of the day. It was a pragmatic examination, Lenardo was glad to find; there was no self-pity in the boy's attitude.