There was no sign of a struggle, but the room held
only its furnishings, no sign of personal possessions. It appeared that Clea had left on her own, but-
Something. A feeling… not unlike an odor. Something in the air that Astra’s powers could “smell.”
A sense of fear. No-deeper than fear.
“Clea left here in a great hurry,” the Reader announced, “and in terror.”
“Terror?” Morella asked. “Terror of what? Of whom?”
“Her last customer,” Astra heard herself say, the wild talent of Reading the past of an object or place taking over her mind. To some degree, she had every talent possible to a Reader, but this one rarely manifested. It felt very strange-as if she were inventing what she said as she spoke, yet did not know what words would come next. “Who was the last person to be with Clea?”
Both Morella and Phaeru frowned, trying to remember.
“I’ll have to check my records,” the bordello owner said.
“Another thing,” Astra continued. “Did Clavius have a favorite? Did he always request Clea?”
Morella stared at her.“Yes… every time.”
Astra left Morella’s feeling perplexed. Each question answered seemed to raise a dozen more.
Corruption, she supposed, was to be expected in The Maze, but the mental atmosphere of the brothel was terrify-ingly like the feelings she had Read from Tressa. Could there be a connection-?
“Changing professions, Astra?”
She jumped, startled, as Zanos materialized from the alley next to the bordello. “I wish you wouldn’t sneak up on me like that!”
“Why, I thought it was impossible to sneak up on a Reader,” he said in mock surprise.
Indeed, the only people invisible to a Reader’s inner sight were the savage Adepts-when that chill-ing thought touched her, she focused her powers on him. As before, she could easily Read his surface thoughts and emotions. No, he was not an Adept. Whatever secret he hid, that was not it.
“I–I guess I had my mind on other things,” she said as he fell in step beside her. “I was on my way to your villa-but- You were waiting for me, weren’t you?” Could the man be an unidentified Reader? It was theoretically possible for someone of very limited powers to slip through the screenings given every child in the empire, developing a minor talent at a later age.
Zanos merely smiled.
“All right-how did you know I was in there?”
His smile became a grin. “I told you-I keep informed about everything in The Maze. You were seen going into Morella’s, so I decided to escort you back-in case you walk under some more scaffolding,”
he added placatingly.
So much for special powers. “Very funny,” she said, swallowing with difficulty. Talking in the cold air was irritating her throat. But I’ve never known a male nonReader to be so friendly with me before.
Just then the lowering clouds burst, releasing torrents of cold rain. People in the streets ran for shelter.
The Academy was over a mile away.
“Lets go back to Morella’s,” Astra said, pulling a fold of her cloak over her head.
“No, I have a better idea, ‘ Zanos said, putting a guiding arm around her shoulders. “Come with me.”
His villa was indeed closer, but by the time they reached it-just as the rain stopped, of course-Astra felt the wet penetrating even her woolen cloak.
Zanos’ servants met them at the door. The young woman, Lanna, escorted Astra into a room where a most welcome fire was waiting on the hearth. Brooking no protests, Lanna soon had Astra out of her wet clothes, toweled dry, and wrapped in a warm robe-
but even so, Astra was seized with a fit of sneezing that shook her whole body.
I’m definitely getting my annual cold, Astra thought miserably. Her face was hot, her hands and feet cold, and her throat was getting drier and more painful by the moment.
As if in response to her thought, the manservant, Ard, brought in herb tea. “Zanos will rejoin you shortly, Magister,” he announced as he placed the tray before her.
“Thank you,” she croaked, wishing she had lemon and honey to mix with the tea. Still, the hot drink soothed her throat as Lanna seated her on soft cushions with her back to the fire and unbraided her hair, combing it out to dry.
The luxurious attention felt strange, but Lanna’s touch was unobtrusive, and it was pleasant not to have to fend for herself when she did not feel well.
She looked around the room. It was conservatively decorated in the finest of furnishings and fabrics.
Missing something, she realized that in the home of a gladiator she had somehow expected the outrageous-a stuffed leopard, perhaps, or at least a display of weapons on the wall. Instead, a mural that looked recently painted depicted snow-covered mountains on one wall, and the rest were bare.
In the far corner was a low table, holding several musical instruments. A large wooden flute, a five-string harp, a lute…
“Does your master play those instruments?” she asked Lanna.
“Yes, Magister. Especially the flute. Many of the street musicians come here for music parties, sharing new songs and having fun with old ones.”
Astra felt a twinge of jealousy, for the music curriculum at the Academy left little room for creativity or
“fun.” Portia preferred that only the classics be taught, discouraging experimentation or improvisation until Astra had enlisted the aid of Master Quantus to persuade her that if no one was allowed to experiment, there would be no works from this generation worthy to become classics.
Sorrow at the reminder of her loss made Astra blink, her sore throat tightening for a moment. She took another sip of tea, and then, to get her mind off the dead musician, she asked Lanna if she might examine the lute.
It was a fine old instrument, but sadly out of tune. Astra carefully tightened the strings, each to its proper pitch, and began to play one of her own compositions. It was contemplative, yet simple-something she often played when she was thinking her way through a problem.
When she finished, she looked up to find Zanos watching from the doorway. This time she knew she hadn’t Read him because she had been concentrating on something else-no magic, no mystery.
“Very nice,” he said as he entered. He picked up the flute, then joined her by the fire, reclining on a large pillow. “You never mentioned that you are a musician-and a very good one.”
“Thank you,” she replied, suppressing a cough. “I didn’t know you played. Lanna tells me you hold music parties.”
“Yes-the professionals put up with my playing,” he said wryly. “As a boy I spent much more time practicing swordsmanship than music, and now that I have time for music I’m too old to develop great skill.”
Lanna put the pins back into Astra’s rebraided hair, and quietly left the room. Alone with Zanos, Astra found herself once again examining her feelings about him. Why should I feel uneasy? she asked herself.
He seems to want to be my friend. Surely I could Read any ulterior motive. But part of the tension she felt was coming from Zanos, she realized. He was smiling at her as she tunelessly strummed the lute, but a part of his mind was studying her with great curiosity.
Would it be wise to tell him what she’d discovered at Morella’s?
Suddenly he put the flute to his lips and began playing a tune she found vaguely familiar. Without thinking, she began to harmonize on the lute. The tension faded as their musical talents merged into a single entity.
On the second go-round, the song took on a vitality of its own, bringing Astra a joy she had never known before. Zanos was wrong to deprecate his talent-he had a natural vigor, a perfect sense of rhythm, and an inventive style.
Astra’s spirit soared with the music’s intensity, and she Read outward almost without being aware of it.