“Our concern for the Savage Empire,” Julia responded immediately.
“True,” Aradia said with a nod, “but I meant personal concerns. At the moment, we are both having great difficulty working with nature, because nature is toying with us.”
Julia frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You are undergoing puberty. Your body is changing- and as a Reader you certainly know the body affects the mind. Your feelings are often confusing. Sometimes you don’t know what you think about something. Then on some other idea you will feel completely convinced one way one day, and the opposite way the next.”
Julia said, “Yes, I know you were my age once.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Aradia replied. “You think it doesn’t matter that I’ve been through what you are going through, because I’m not feeling it now. But you’re wrong, Julia. Being pregnant does very much the same things to my body that puberty is doing to yours.”
“Father asked me to be careful about your feelings while you’re pregnant,” said Julia.
Aradia smiled. “Your father may be the greatest Reader the world has ever known-but although he may delve into women’s minds, he will never live inside a woman’s body. You do, Julia, and so do I. There are some things you and I have in common that Lenardo will never, ever understand.”
And Julia suddenly knew why Aradia would not say a word about Galerio. She smiled back at her stepmother with a new understanding. “May I Read the baby?” she asked.
“Of course,” said Aradia. “I was going to ask you to.”
And the two women shared sensing the small life Aradia carried that was a part of Lenardo.
On the following day, Julia was in a benevolent mood toward her stepmother. When Aradia called her away from Galerio, she went at once, and found that Aradia and Master Clement were going to the hospital. She was not being arbitrarily called away from her friends; she was being called to work with the healers.
It was an adult responsibility Julia had been performing for years-and one area of her powers where not even Master Clement questioned her judgment or her competence. Eager to help her people, Julia followed the others from the forum.
At the hospital, Aradia moved from one ward to another, greeting the recovering patients who were awake. Most needed only rest and nourishment now, and would be ready to go home within the day.
The healers had been able to care for all the injuries, but today most of them were themselves in recovery sleep. Minor Adepts now joined Readers in nursing the patients.
Julia and Master Clement went to help Read the patients still in healing sleep, to be certain all was going as intended. Aradia made sure they were well involved in their work before she sought out Pyrrhus.
Pyrrhus was awake, Wicket already at his side. As Aradia approached, she saw that his friend had given Pyrrhus the gold coins, and Pyrrhus was holding them on the open palm of his left hand, staring at them.
He was in one of the small wards where severely ill or injured patients were cared for, with only three other beds. One of those beds was now empty, and the other two men were still deep in healing sleep.
As Pyrrhus should have been.
The entire right side of his face and neck were vividly red and sore: regenerated flesh that in another day under Adept care would heal unscarred to its normal condition, but today must be as painful and sensitive as if flayed.
Pyrrhus seemed to be hiding his pain successfully from Wicket, but without Reading Aradia could see it in his eyes, dilated so they appeared black rather than their natural dark brown. Although it was pleasantly cool within the stone building, his brow showed a faint sheen of perspiration. Yet even with Reading, she still could not detect his pain.
It made no sense. She might be a very weak Reader, but pain such as Pyrrhus was experiencing should have had her sending him to sleep in self-defense. She had never heard of anyone masking such strong feelings except Lords Adept, but a Lord Adept in Pyrrhus’ condition would not have the strength for such effort.
Was Pyrrhus a secret Adept grown up in the Aventine Empire, where until four years ago such powers had been anathema? No, even the greatest Lord Adept would be at the mercy of his own body’s defenses, which would put him back into healing sleep whether he willed it or not. Besides, a Lord Adept would block the pain, not suffer it while blocking transmission to Readers. There had to be some other explanation.
However he was doing it, why was he masking his pain? It meant only that no Reader called an Adept healer’s attention to him, and he suffered for no reason.
Aradia crossed the room to Pyrrhus’ side, and waited for him to look up at her. Although it was discolored, his face was back to its normal contours now, thin with sharp planes, high cheekbones, pointed chin, eyes set deep under a heavy browbone. A large, straight nose saved it from appearing pinched, but it would have been a severe, even frightening face were it not for a sensuous, beautifully sculpted mouth, now tense with suspicion as his eyes met hers.
“You remember Lady Aradia,” Wicket said brightly, too eagerly cheerful. “She’s the one healed you, Pyrrhus-and gave us the gold!”
“Why give us money?” Pyrrhus asked, his eyes like twin weapons trained on Aradia.
“Because,” she replied gently, “although there is no adequate repayment for saving a life, such a deed cannot go unrecognized and unrewarded.”
“I assure you,” Pyrrhus said acidly, “my action was unpremediatated. Simple animal reflex.”
“The reflex of a good man,” Aradia told him. “Witnesses told us what happened: when you saw the vat of oil toppling, about to spill onto a little boy, you ran in and snatched the child up. And when you could not move fast enough to escape the burning liquid, you tossed the child to Wicket, who carried him to safety.”
“At least it was a child,” Pyrrhus said, closing his hand over the coins with an audible snap. “Although of course he will grow up, won’t he?” He made it sound like a curse.
By now it was clear to Aradia that Pyrrhus was wounded far more in mind than in body. Such cynicism could only cover deep scars of betrayal. It was not an uncommon symptom among the people their Savage Alliance had conquered, and the only cure was to prove their benevolence over time.
The sole medicine she could offer Pyrrhus at the moment was to continue his healing. “Have you eaten?”
she asked.
He frowned slightly at the abrupt change of subject. “No.”
There was fruit and bread on the bedside table, along with a pitcher of water. “You must be hungry,”
Aradia said.
“Yes,” Pyrrhus replied. “Wicket, have you a knife? I don’t know what has happened to my clothes and belongings.”
Of course-he would be ravenous with the hunger that came from depleting the body’s reserves in Adept healing, but the pain in his face would not allow him to bite into the fruit. Aradia opened to Reading, sending an order to the hospital kitchen for the revitalizing soup that was kept ready for awakening patients.
Wicket handed Pyrrhus a knife with a thin blade, in trade for the coins. But when the man in the bed tried to move, simply to reach for the fruit, the pain escaped his control, and he gasped as his body twisted.
Wicket deftly caught the falling knife.
“Let me help,” said Aradia, laying a hand against the back of Pyrrus’ neck, where the nerve centers led to his cheek and down into his injured shoulder. Deliberately, she stopped the pain.
At the sudden relief, Pyrrhus collapsed back onto his pillow, eyes closed. Then he reopened them, and lifted his right arm with an effort, staring at his hand. “It’s gone numb,” he said, unable to control the slight hint of fear in his voice.
“Just temporarily,” Aradia quickly assured him. “It’s the only way to take away the pain so you can replenish the strength healing has taken from your body.”