On closer approach, he saw a stone well, and off to one side a cluster of houses. Only one person was to be seen; a young woman who had just filled a jug at the well, and was walking in the direction of the houses.
Wulfston hoped she would keep going, as he wanted to renew his water supply and be ready to retreat if he ran into trouble. The girl glanced at him, but continued on her way-probably taught not to talk to strangers. He could see why. In his lands she would be safe enough today, but there had been a time when such a pretty young girl would not have dared stray so far from home alone.
Wulfston’s attention turned from the girl to the well. He hadn’t known how thirsty he was until he was in sight and smell of water!
He swung down off his horse, strode to the well, and dropped the bucket into the water below. The splash was the most welcome sound he had heard all day. He licked dry lips as he added Adept strength to cranking up the winch, grabbed the bucket, raised it to his lips, spilling water on himself as-
Something stung him in the neck.
He let go the bucket with one hand to slap at it, but his hand did not connect. It fell to his side limply, the fingers of the other hand releasing the bucket, which fell back into the well.
Wulfston’s knees gave way as he tried to turn in the direction from which had come-
— a dart.
The girl stood not ten paces away, a blowgun in her hand.
Wulfston tried to speak, but he was falling, out of control of his body.
He reached instinctively for his Adept powers to drive the poison from his blood, but it was as if he had used up every bit of his energy! He could do nothing-nothing- except stare up helplessly at the girl who bent over him.
Traylo and Arlus snarled at the girl as she reached to touch him, but she smiled at the dogs, and in moments they were fawning on her, letting her scratch them behind the ears.
Paralyzed, bereft of his powers, Wulfston could do nothing but stare, the greatest fear he had ever felt in his life tearing at his guts.
Chapter Four
Voices drifting in the darkness.
Two women. What are they saying?
Wulfston’s mind made snatches at the words buzzing around in his head, but could only make sense of a few.
Trader’s Common? No. The other language, taught by-
What was her name? Chaika? Eyes. Only her eyes could be seen. Eyes so much like.. whose?
WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?
For a moment Wulfston’s mind was startled into coherence, but he could not maintain it. Confusion returned.
He tried to open his eyes, but the lids stubbornly refused to move.
Drugged. Drug on that… dart. Must call up healing
But his powers would not obey him. No matter how he tried, he could not make the healing fire flow through his blood.
My powers… gone?
Fear pushed some of the cobwebs from his brain. He was in acute discomfort, his tongue and throat raw and swollen.
He remembered stopping at the well, thirsty. That’s where he had been captured!
His flailing mind seized that thought. I’m a prisoner, and they’ve drugged me so I can’t use my powers to escape.
A mixture of anger and fear charged his blood, helping to bring him to his senses. He lay in a soft bed.
The air was warm and dry, had a “morning” smell. Aching joints announced themselves, but his attempts to stop the pain met with failure.
No powers.
He forced himself to calm his mind. For the moment, rational thought was his only weapon.
My Adept powers will return, he told himself firmly. Reading doesn’t require energy, so perhaps-
But his attempt to reach out with his mind, to summon Traylo and Arlus, also failed. He could not even sense them, nor any animal life.
Reading might not require strength, but illness and injury curtailed it severely. The drug on that dart had made him so ill that he could not even open his eyes.
The pain in his throat flared. He gave an involuntary moan. The women stopped talking. Wulfston heard them approach the bed. Gentle fingers pushed open his eyelids, and his eyes slowly focused on two concerned faces. They propped him up against some cushions, and one of them brought the mouth of a small clay bottle to his lips.
The liquid that poured over his parched tongue had a sour taste, but it cooled the fire in his throat and eased the queasiness in his stomach. The woman let him have only a little at a time, so he would not choke.
His thirst satisfied, Wulfston managed a weak smile in lieu of thanks. Both women smiled in return.
Discovering that his tongue would move, Wulfston tried to say “thank you” in Trader’s Common. One of the women closed her eyes, and for a moment he “heard” the distant echo of a woman’s voice in his head, speaking foreign words.
He was Reading her thoughts!
Despite his situation, this long-dreamed-of moment buoyed his spirits. He wanted to laugh and shout for joy, but had no strength. At last I’m a Reader! A very weak one, apparently, but that will change as soon as I get some training from-
Lenardo.
The rescue mission.
His elation disappeared as he remembered why he was here.
He heard-no, Read-the woman’s thought again, the same words repeated; she was sending a message to someone. Soon another female voice echoed in his mind. He got the impression that she was a short distance away.
He could not understand the words, but sensed orders being given concerning his welfare-and something else. As the message continued, the young Reader’s facial expression changed several times; mild surprise… consternation… wry amusement.
What’s being said about me? he wondered, then tried to project the question to the Reader beside his bed.
Either she couldn’t understand or was ignoring him. She spoke rapidly to her companion, who stared at Wulfston with the same series of reactions.
The atmosphere suddenly chilled. Wulfston discerned that the mysterious message had changed his status from patient to prisoner.
Or to someone’s property.
The irony did not escape him.
Not so many years ago he had captured a badly injured Lenardo and taken him to Aradia, who had healed him but claimed the Aventine Reader as her property. At the time, Wulfston had felt as she did: whatever an Adept could hold was his to keep by right of nature.
Now someone wants to keep a Lord Adept, he thought. And in my present condition, there’s not a thing I can do about it!
Again the women propped him up to a sitting position, but the olay bottle they brought him this time smelled like wine. It had a bitter taste. Wulfston tried to avoid swallowing it, but one of the women stroked his throat, forcing the swallow reflex. Instantly, his feeble attempts at resistance dissolved, and the women lowered him back to the cushions.
No amount of drugs will make me anyone’s property, he thought defiantly as drowsiness overcame him. I will regain my powers and rescue Lenardo…ifl have to fight all of Africa to do it!
He dreamed he was back on the grass plains again, trying to evade capture. Herds of wild beasts scattered at his approach. A dozen paces ahead of him, a giant eagle stood on the ground as though waiting to carry him away from his pursuers. But before he could touch it, the great wings spread and it was instantly aloft.
Wulfston was surrounded by a dozen women in long dresses and veils. They approached as though sure he could not escape. He tried to use Adept force to drive them back, but found himself powerless, stripped of all his talents!