“Not at all, Queen Ashuru,” he replied, wondering why she was suddenly hostile again. “You are the leaders of your people; they will not follow a stranger. Nor do I know your terrain, your languages, your customs. As soon as the threat to you is over, and I am reunited with my brother and the people we are responsible for, I will leave Africa.”
Finally Wulfston was dismissed, while the Assembly debated accepting his offer. One of the burly guards appeared again, but this time the man bowed, led Wulfston up a different flight of steps than those to his room, and left him in a kind of study or library, reminiscent of the one Aradia had lost when Castle Nerius was destroyed.
He found books, scrolls, and even clay tablets with writing that looked like pictures of birds and animals.
A little investigation turned up several in the Aventine language, and even a few in the savage dialects.
Those, however, could tell him nothing he did not already know, while the rest he could not read. For once he wished he had Aradia’s talent for languages.
Impatiently, he sat down in a comfortable chair before a large table. He wanted to Read what was going on in the Assembly, but was certain Seers would be on guard for such spying. He wished he had Lenardo’s powers, to reach out and tell his friend this would be a good time to converse. Lenardo hadn’t mentioned Zanos, Astra, or the others, but surely his Reading powers could find them!
Thinking of Lenardo’s powers, though, reminded him of his own, as did his growing hunger. How much of that drug had worked its way out of his blood by now?
He glanced at a candle on the table and casually willed it to light. Nothing happened.
He frowned, wondering why his Reading seemed to be progressing nicely, when he could not seem to use even the simplest Adept power. Probably the vegetarian diet Ashuru had kept him on since his capture. He certainly hoped they would provide him with meat now that he was no longer a prisoner!
He concentrated on the candle as he had as a small boy, just learning to use his powers. To his relief, the flame sputtered to life. He resisted the temptation to start moving furniture, but settled back in the chair and set his concentration to drawing healing fire into his blood, purging away the last of the drug. He could not produce the normal rapid flare of energy, but he could feel his healing powers working as he relaxed and let his body cure itself.
Finally the door opened, and Tadisha entered. Her face, and the fact that she was closed to Reading, told him her news was not good. Wulfston sat up, alert, as she took a chair opposite him at the table and said, “My mother does not trust you-and her voice influences the Assembly.”
“They won’t help me?”
The princess shook her head. “They don’t trust you because you are of Norgu’s family. Blood will tell.”
“I don’t accept that,” Wulfston told her. “Blood makes me look as I do, and gives me my powers, but how a person thinks and acts is determined by circumstances, and by family. And family often has nothing to do with blood. Neither Norgu nor any of his family shaped my thinking, Princess Tadisha.”
“So said Barak. He told of the people you call family, all of them white. None of them taught you to be a Seer,” she added. “Lord Wulfston, I recognized that your Mover’s powers were far superior to your Seer’s, but Lord Lenardo was astonished that you could See at all.”
“It’s true,” Wulfston admitted. “I was unable to access my Seeing ability until I came to Africa. It was as if the life of the great plain spoke to me, and I responded as if…1 had come home.”
“Blood will tell,” insisted Tadisha. “Your ancestors came from the plains. The Zionae lived there for many generations, until the Savishnon caused them to flee to the east. Many tribes hunt there, but it is a dangerous hunt today, for the Savishnon claim that territory, and massacre anyone they find trespassing.”
“Tell me more about the Savishnon,” said Wulfston.
“They come from the far north of Africa, and worship the war god Savishna. They believe their god has instructed them to conquer the entire continent. A generation ago they swept southward, onto the great plain,” Tadisha explained. “Soon they took over the northern areas of the plains, driving the tribes who lived there into exile.
“Five years ago they began a new offensive, with an army so huge none could count it. When my father, Kagele, was killed, my mother persuaded the leaders of other tribes to join us against the attackers. The Assembly was formed. The Savishnon did not expect unity from our many small tribes. We drove them back beyond the great lake.
“We knew, though, that they would be back. We built this castle, and fortified it strongly. Leaders of the tribes set up communications via Seers throughout all the lands now united with the Karili, and granted my mother the right to call them together in any emergency.”
“But the attack never came,” said Wulfston.
“How do you know?” Tadisha asked.
“I grew up in a castle that bore the scars of Adept warfare. There are none here-everything is new, perfectly matched.”
“You are right,” said Tadisha. “A year after we repelled the Savishnon, they regrouped and attacked Johara. You saw today what happened there. For the past four years no more than scattered remnants of the Savishnon have been seen.”
Wulfston asked, “Do the Savishnon wear headbands?
Symbols on their foreheads in beads? I thought I saw some at their camp.”
“Yes, whenever they go into battle.”
“Then it was Savishnon who attacked me on the beach.”
Tadisha nodded. “That is what we have come to expect the Savishnon to be: a constant annoyance, but no longer a threat to our way of life. We had hoped to rid all Karili lands of them.”
“And now they are back as a well-organized army.”
“One surprise after another,” the princess agreed. “You are as great a surprise, if not so certain a threat.
How is it you know nothing of your African origins?”
That again. He might as well tell her the little he knew. “I was only three years old when my parents died.
I remember my mother telling me stories, but not the stories themselves. My father-my adopted father, Nerius- told me everything he knew about my family, but he knew only their history once they reached the Aventine Empire. They were proud citizens, Aventine to the core- which, now that I think about it, makes me wonder what they left behind that they were happy to work their way out of slavery, and apparently never pined for their homeland.”
“Perhaps,” said Tadisha, “you will discover the answer here in Africa.”
“Perhaps I will,” he agreed. “Torio told me I would find ‘where I first began.’ ‘
“Torio?”
“A Reader with the gift of prophecy.”
“Ah. My family has that gift also,” said Tadisha. “Prophecies always come true-in one way or another.”
“I know,” Wulfston said. “Torio said my fate was entangled with Lenardo’s, and here I am. But Tadisha, if the Karili won’t help me, then I must try to rescue Lenardo alone.”
“I think,” she said, her green eyes reflecting the candle flame, “there may be a way to persuade the Assembly, although my mother will be angry if I suggest it. She says aloud that she fears what your presence here may do to the precarious state of affairs in Africa. Privately, however, she is concerned that I have become too… impressed with you. Your ideas,” she amended hastily.
Wulfston could not help smiling. He was finding himself equally impressed with the Karili princess. “There is a way,” he said, “that you need not risk your mother’s displeasure. I am willing to go before your best Seers, and make no resistance to their powers. In my homeland, the process is known as the Oath of Truth, taken before a panel of Master Readers.”
But when they approached Ashuru, she waved the idea away. She was in consultation with Barak, and Wulfston found the scrutiny of the old Grioka almost palpable as the queen said, “I have little doubt of your motives, Lord Wulfston-as far as they go today. What concerns me is your effect on the history of my nation.”