This man stirred up emotions in her that she could neither deny nor fully comprehend.
“Vortius is back in Tiberium,” he said finally. “I plan to use the match to keep him from attacking me. I didn’t tell you I was back in training because I knew you wouldn’t come anywhere near the arena unless you had to-like the day we met. I knew you’d hear about it anyway.”
“I may not come to watch you fight,” Astra said quietly, “but I care what happens to you-as a friend. Is this why you never held your music party?”
“I’ve spent all my time getting back in training. My opponent has been chosen and is being brought to Tiberium. The Emperor will set the date for the contest in the next few days. It will probably be just before the first day of spring. So I’ve had no time for music. Besides, you know what a terrible player I am.”
“I know no such thing,” Astra said as she got up to retrieve the two musical instruments from the corner.
Zanos was still protesting as she handed him his flute, then sat down again to tune her instrument. With a smile, she challenged him with an intriguing tune that she made up on the spot. Zanos raised his instrument and chased musically after her, harmonizing as Astra repeated the main theme.
The joy she experienced that day was deepened in the following weeks. Any evening Astra had free from her duties, she knew she would find Zanos at home-his strict physical regimen meant no carousing, and an early bedtime.
So they shared private music parties, giving her brief respite from the increased apprehension in the Reader system. The split in the Council of Masters seemed to be getting worse. More students, Magisters, and Masters were sent to walk the Path of the Dark Moon. Astra held her tongue, tried to hold her wild powers in check, and kept out of Portia’s way except when sent for. She didn’t have to work at avoiding Tressa; the other young Magister stayed well out of Astra’s environment.
The day of the benefit in the gladiatorial arena was announced. Zanos’ match against his mysterious opponent would be the main event of the day. Two days before, Astra visited him, hoping it would not be for the last time.
“Don’t worry,” he told her with a smile. “I’ll win. I know what I’m doing, Astra.”
“All the same, I’ve heard about this Mallen,” Astra said. “He’s traveled all around the empire, taking any combat challenge. He’s undefeated.”
“So am I,” he reminded her, “and I’ve got much more experience than he has. Don’t worry about me. Tell you what-as soon as the victory parties are over, we’ll have that music party I promised you. You’ll like my musician friends, I think. “
But Astra couldn’t turn to another subject. She found it hard to look at him as she said, “Would it offend you if I told you I pray every day for your victory?”
“No,” he said gently, “and I thank you for it. I know you won’t be watching or Reading the match, but keep your ears open that day-my victory cry will be louder than the applause of the entire stadium!”
Astra tried to smile encouragement, despite her apprehension. Two days… I wonder what I’ll be doing then- besides worrying about you?
“In two days,” Portia informed her, “you will be the bride’s attendant at a wedding-Tressa’s.”
Astra, already startled at finding the Master of Masters waiting up for her, went numb with shock.
When she did not answer, Portia continued, “For some time now, I have had grave doubts about Tressa’s competency as a Reader. After investigating, we have decided that she is not truly skilled enough for the upper ranks; those who tested her for Magister must have been mistaken. It can happen that several Masters are not at their best on one particular day. After all, even Readers are only human. “
Astra knew, almost without thinking it, that her assignment as Tressa’s attendant was another punishment duty-or perhaps a warning. She wasn’t Tressa’s friend; like Astra, Tressa had no real friends at the Academy. On the other hand, it was possible that Portia had chosen Astra for this task because she truly was the person who knew Tressa best.
“As you wisn, Master Portia, ‘ Astra said carefully. “Has Tressa been informed?”
“About an hour ago. I have been waiting for you since. You have spent much time outside the Academy recently, Astra. Please advise me of such excursions in the future-with the impending war, it is necessary that I be able to contact all my Readers at a moment’s notice.”
“Yes, Master Portia,” replied Astra with all the humility she could muster. Her heart was pounding, and it took all her control not to broadcast her anxiety.
Portia dismissed her, and Astra fled down the corridor and across the courtyard to the dormitory, letting her Reading open wide.
Tressa was sitting on the side of her bed, closed to Reading. Astra knocked at her door, then opened it without waiting for a reply. Lamplight glittered off the blade of the knife in Tressa’s hand. She stared at it with rapt attention, as though the weapon were a holy object.
“You know?” Tressa asked flatly.
“Portia told me,” Astra said, trying to catch her breath, not knowing what to say.
The fierceness was gone from Tressa’s eyes as she looked up at Astra. With frightening calm, she said,
“Why didn’t you help me when I asked?”
Because 1 feared to end up as you have- or worse.
“Because… I am a coward,” Astra said simply, without apology or regret. “I was afraid. I still am.”
“Yet you didn’t report me. Perhaps I should be grateful-but you’re trying to avoid commitment, Astra, either for Portia or against her. How long do you think she will allow that?”
Tressa looked down at the knife again, hefting it-then suddenly threw it at the far wall. As it clattered to the floor, she took in a long deep breath, and Astra could Read her fighting to hold back tears. Anger swallowed Tressa’s grief, and Astra knew she would not follow Master Julius to the plane of the dead.
Not yet.
There was a Temple of Selene attached to Portia’s Academy; Astra had been there many times, playing her lute to the glory of the goddess. Selene protected the chastity of the young female Readers-but she also blessed many young women for the last time at their weddings. Four young girls, Readers in training, were decorating the temple with flowers. They wore pink silk dresses rather than their usual plain white, in honor of the occasion.
A priest and priestess of Selene would officiate at the ceremony-they were not Readers, so there was no reason for the priest not to enter the Academy grounds. Nor for the bridegroom, now that he had been declared failed. Astra Read him in the anteroom, a sad young man, still bewildered and disbelieving.
He was not Reading; all Astra could tell were his surface emotions. He did not seem curious to Read for his bride-not surprising, for Tressa was also not interested in the man chosen for her. Her shields were up more tightly than Astra had ever known; for all she showed, Tressa might not have been a Reader at all.
Astra wanted to tell her she didn’t feel pity- however much she might dislike Tressa, there was no question that she deserved her rank of Magister. Tressa had been treated unfairly-Astra rankled at the injustice, but did not know how to counter it. She had tried before, for Helena. Now she was older, and knew much more than she had then. Now her punishment for disputing Portias decision would be far worse than being deprived of her music.
But Tressa was right: she could not refuse to take sides forever.
Tressa, she thought, holding her thoughts carefully inward so no one could Read them, you will be avenged. I don’t know what, but 1 will do something to help stop this madness!
It was too late for Tressa, but Astra felt better for her vow to do something before Tressa’s fate befell some other Reader. She and Master Claudia hung away Tressa’s black-bordered white gown. The black outer robes of her Magister status had already been taken away. On the narrow bed lay the small parcel of clothes Tressa owned which gave no indication of belonging to a Reader.