Then it touched them: a cold wind out of the warm air. It swept through the little park, tearing at their clothes, pulling the girls’ hair out of its fastenings,
“Brrr!” said Fat Giorgio. “It’s gonna rain.”
But there were no clouds. The sky was hazy blue above them.
The wind continued, churning up the city’s dust, making their eyes smart.
“What is it?” cried Dilys.
“A whirlwind!” Galerio shouted. “Get down!”
He scrambled down off the mound, and the nine of them huddled at its base as icy wind pelted them with debris.
But there was little there to hurt them. They were merely getting dirty.
Out on the crowded market street, Julia Read the wind wreaking havoc.
Wagons overturned. Animals screamed in panic.
Signs fell.
Canopies whipped about, slapping people down.
Screaming children, unable to find their parents, were crushed beneath tumbling cartons or run over by wagon wheels.
Parents seeking their children saw them whipped out of reach by the howling gale.
A foodseller’s stall collapsed, dousing his customers with boiling oil. Agonizing pain burned into Julia’s own flesh-a Reader caught in the deluge of oil-but even as she screamed the pain cut off, and she was left gasping in reaction.
As quickly as it had come, the wind died-but the panic in the market continued.
Julia jumped to her feet, wiping away tears caused by dust and shared pain. “Come on!” she shouted.
“People need our help!”
Galerio cried, “Follow Julia!” and they dashed toward the madhouse in the North Road.
To get there, they had to wade through wine, spilled from the barrels outside the wine merchants’ shops.
But Julia Read that the damage there was only to merchandise, not people, and hurried on.
Cries of pain greeted them.
The market street was a shambles of food, wine, goods, and blood.
They almost fell over a man with a broken leg. Julia Read his pain, and directed, “Blanche, put him to sleep. Galerio, you and Antonius set the bone, and start him healing till a healer gets here.”
There were a few other Readers in the market street. Everywhere there was someone in a white dress or tunic, people turned for help. Others approached the Readers, saying, “I can heal,” or “I can move things,” and together they sought to save those in danger of dying, and ease the pain of those whose injuries were not so severe.
Hands clutched at Julia. “Reader, please! My little boy!” The woman pointed to a mound of broken crates. “It all fell on him! I couldn’t reach him!”
Mosca and Piccolo started at once to toss the crates aside, but Julia Read-
“I’m so sorry,” she said as gently as she could. “The child is dead. Dilys, please help this woman,” she added, for Dilys had the talent to affect people’s feelings. “The rest of you come with me. We must help the living.”
A little farther on they came to a group of people heaving a smashed wagon off a woman’s chest.
“Lady Julia!” cried a merchant who recognized her. “Is she alive?”
Yes, there was a fluttering heartbeat, but broken ribs had penetrated the woman’s right lung and severed arteries. She could not live much longer.
“I need a healer here!” Julia projected to all the Readers, showing them the extent of the woman’s injuries.
“I’m bringing one,” came a mental voice she recognized as Master Juna, her music teacher. But the woman was blocked by people and debris-it would take several minutes for her and the man following her to reach them.
In the meantime, the injured woman’s heartbeat grew weaker as her lung filled with her own blood.
“Can anyone heal this woman?” Julia shouted aloud. No one responded. “Mosca!” she suddenly remembered.
“Pull those ribs out to their normal position, and then pinch off the arteries. She’ll die if she bleeds any more!”
The boy stared at her. “How can I-?”
“Use your talent! If you can pinch a nerve to make a cramp, you can pinch off a blood vessel.”
He swallowed hard, then nodded. “Show me where.”
Julia directed, and Mosca concentrated-but he was a very minor Adept, and soon was shaking and sweating with the exertion. He couldn’t hold on. Where was that healer?
“We’re coming,” Master Juna assured her. “You’re doing fine.”
But Mosca wasn’t. He gave everything he had-and keeled over in a dead faint.
The woman’s bright blood spurted once more.
“Oh- why can’t I learn Adept skills?” Julia demanded of no one in particular.
Then Galerio was kneeling by her side. “Show me.”
At once he stopped the leakage he could see, then under her direction pinched off the other artery deep inside. Somehow, the woman’s heart still beat, although her chest heaved in her struggles for air.
Finally the crowd parted for Master Juna and the Adept healer. Galerio rocked back on his heels and let go on a wave of relief.
“Good work,” said Master Juna. “Son, you must come to the Academy and learn to work with Readers.
We always need healers.”
Unlike Mosca, who was sound asleep on the cobblestones, Galerio was not even breathing hard.
Julia said, “I’m so proud of you! Come on-let’s see if anyone else needs us.”
“Sure,” he replied, getting to his feet, “but don’t think I’m gonna spend my life obeying Readers just ‘cause I helped out in an emergency!”
Decius was just leaving Aradia when he suddenly stopped, his eyes taking on the look of a Reader concentrating on something at a distance. “My lady-” he began, but Aradia was already Reading with him, his stronger powers revealing the sudden destruction occurring in the market street.
Without another word, they both ran from the villa and strode rapidly toward the main north-south road.
By the time they reached it, other Readers were converging, a parade of men and women in white, the gowns and tunics of the Masters and Magisters edged in black. Among them were Adepts who could Read, Adepts who happened to be working with Readers when the storm occurred, and some Dark Moon Readers, pools of color in the white tide.
Aradia was slower on her feet these days, and Decius was hampered by his wooden leg, so they were in the back of the pack by the time they reached the area of destruction.
The storm was over, but the market was devastated. Every hand was needed to dig out the injured, and every Adept was quickly put to work, those on the scene quickly teaming with Readers to save as many lives as possible.
Aradia and Decius started into the melee, only to be accosted by Master Clement. “Lady Aradia!” the old man exclaimed. “We need you to direct things here. People will listen to your orders.”
That was true, although she knew his underlying motivation was to keep her from exhausting herself-
and thereby threatening her baby-with the use of Adept powers.
So she sent out the word: healers to the forum, all injured to be sent there as soon as life-preserving measures had been taken. There was now a hospital in Zendi, but it did not have room for so many. Only those requiring much further healing would eventually be taken there. Once it was organized, the healing talent in Zendi would easily suffice to help everyone who had been injured in the freak whirlwind.
Decius helped broadcast the directions to the Readers, most of whom had not been in Zendi during the battles when this plan had first been developed. Soon the evacuation of the ruined area was proceeding apace.
Aradia resisted employing her own powers, until a man pushed his way through the crowd to fall on his knees at her feet. “Lady,” he begged. “Oh, Lady-please. My friend-”
He spoke the savage language with a strong Aventine accent, and his appearance was Aventine: clean-shaven, hair cut short. But the former Aventine Empire was now part of the Savage Empire, so he and his friend were her people now.