Her breath burned in her lungs. Her legs ached.
The horses’ panic tore through her mind. Dust choked her lungs.
Galerio dropped back, gasping, “Run!” He grabbed her hand. She felt him trying to pour strength into her, but he hadn’t enough power.
For a few steps they went faster, nearly catching Mosca, Antonius, Wicket-but in moments the horses would run over them all.
Clutching Galerio’s hand, Julia was able to think again.
If only Wulfston were here!
He could make animals obey his will; he would calm those horses, or at least turn them aside.
Other Readers had found their Adept powers in moments of desperation-her father had, in order to save his people and Aradia.
Desperately she reached out to the lead horse, urged him to one side as the herd reached the fleeing people.
Galerio pushed her to the ground, flung himself on top of her, protecting her with his own body.
But Julia had it now! She sent images to the horses, directing their course.
The herd split, thundering on either side of the trembling, gasping people. Wicket fell, huddled into a ball.
Mosca and Antonius leaned on one another, breathless, as the horses galloped by.
And Julia sobbed against Galerio’s arm beneath her face as she realized.
“It’s not an Adept trick!” she gasped as, the horses safely past, Galerio drew her to sit up against him.
“Oh, Galerio-it’s Reading, and he never knew it! He wanted so much to learn to Read, and now maybe he’ll never know!”
Mosca and Antonius moved slowly, but Wicket jumped up and ran to where Julia and Galerio still sat on the ground. “Are you all right?” he asked anxiously.
Julia nodded.
“Then why are you crying? Who’ll never know about Reading?”
“Wulfston,” she replied. “My uncle. He-he went to rescue my father, weeks ago, and we haven’t heard from them since.” Julia got hold of herself, her tears abating as she continued, “Wulfston is a great Lord Adept, but he’s always wanted to learn to Read, ever since we found out they’re the same power. He never could-and yet he’s always had this power over animals.”
“Ah,” said Galerio, ” you made the horses go around us.”
She looked up into his eyes, her lips trembling into a smile as she asked, “Are you Reading now?”
“No-but how else would you make such a discovery in the middle of a stampede? Thank you, Julia.”
“Thanks, indeed!” Wicket added, squatting down beside them. “Now, what’s all this about your uncle going to rescue your father? From what?”
“Nobody knows!” Julia replied. “People from Africa kidnapped my father-and Aradia couldn’t go because she’s pregnant, so Wulfston went, and now they’re both gone!”
Galerio, who knew the story well, said, “They’ll come back. After all they’ve been through together, how much trouble could a few Africans be? A Reader and an Adept working together-why, they’ll be here any day now, with wonderful stories to tell.”
But Wicket was puzzled. “Brothers? One a Reader and the other an Adept?”
“No-Wulfston is Aradia’s brother,” Julia told him. “But we don’t worry whether kinship is by blood or marriage or adoption. We’re family.”
“Mm-hmm,” said Wicket. “Well, then-you say your uncle can Read, but doesn’t know it? That hardly seems likely.”
Julia couldn’t help laughing, although painfully. “No? Then why are you not aware of your own Adept powers?”
Wicket was squatting beside them, balanced precariously on his toes, but at Julia’s words he paled, lost his balance, and sat down, hard. “What?”
“I Read you restoring the items Mosca and Antonius stole. You think you’re just a skilled cutpurse, but you’re using Adept power when you make something land exactly where you want it. The pendant, and the man’s money pouch. You blanked to my Reading when you did those things.”
Wicket put up a casually denying hand. “Oh-that’s just a trick Pyrrhus taught me, to fool Readers.” He winced. “Never thought to ask him how he knew what’d fool ‘em. But it’s just a bunch of nonsense to distract attention.”
“No, Wicket, I don’t mean your songs and rhymes and riddles,” Julia told him. “I mean the moment when you want that necklace to fall exactly in the girl’s line of vision. Then the nonsense stops. To a Reader, you become invisible. A Dark Moon Reader would miss it, unless he were focused specifically on you, and until four years ago few Readers in the Aventine Empire would’ve known what that moment’s blankness meant.”
Wicket was staring at his hands. “No. I can’t.”
“You can and you do,” Julia assured him. “Well test your talents now, and teach you to use them most effectively.”
Wicket’s eyes fixed on hers, wariness in their depths. “No!” he said. “Lady Julia, you must be wrong-but even if you’re right, it doesn’t matter. I’m not an Adept!”
“Wicket,” said Galerio, “don’t act as if it’s something bad. You’re not in the old Aventine Empire-nobody will kill you for it. You don’t have to go to their training sessions and get lectured about using your talents for the public good. But-”
“I said no’t” Wicket interrupted him. “You shut up about it, all of you. It’s not so! And if any of you says anything to Pyrrhus-well, you can just forget me helping you get out of your problems with Capero!”
With that, Wicket got up, made a futile attempt to-brush the dust from his clothes, and started toward the road back to Zendi.
The four young people stared after him. “Never saw anyone act like that when he found out he had a talent,” said Antonius.
“I think I understand,” said Julia, aware of people from the horse market running to see if they were hurt.
She climbed to her feet saying, “Let him go. And do as he says. Don’t tell anyone, not even your closest friends.”
At the hospital, Aradia was not surprised to find Pyrrhus awake, although she had not expected him to be up and dressed. The door was open, and she could see him standing by the bed, his attention on items laid out on it.
The plate on the bedside table was empty except for apple cores and the skeleton of a bunch of grapes.
Pyrrhus wore the same clothes in which he had been injured, which Aradia had paid no attention to at the time. Now she noticed that although his accent, short hair, and beardlessness showed his Aventine origins, Pyrrhus chose to dress in the savage style.
Wicket had called his friend “skinny.” Actually he was thin and wiry, and his dark gray clothing did nothing to make him appear larger. It was plain in cut, linen and wool of the highest quality, with fine black leather boots suited for riding but looking soft and comfortable enough for walking.
His tabard was wool, its only decoration a single line of discreet silver embroidery across the top.
Wondering if Pyrrhus should be on his feet, Aradia started to Read his physical condition as she neared the doorway-and Pyrrhus snatched his sword from the scabbard on the bed, whirled, and faced her with weapon at ready!
Aradia’s throat constricted at the idea of a Reader at the mercy of his physical senses; how painful it must be to have someone sneak up on him. She had not meant to; with her advancing pregnancy she was simply most comfortable in soft slippers that made no sound on the marble floors.
When he saw who it was, Pyrrhus saluted her with the weapon. “Lady Aradia. Come to see that I do not escape?”
“Not without a proper meal,” she replied, sending a mental call to the hospital kitchen. “Actually, I did not expect to find you awake.”
“Obviously neither did Wicket,” he said, replacing his sword in its scabbard. “Or has he gone?”
“Gone?”
“He does have all our money,” said Pyrrhus.
“Don’t you trust him?” Aradia asked.
“More than I ought to, I expect.” Leaving the sword on the bed, Pyrrhus put on a black leather belt with a square silver buckle and plain silver decoration along its length. Aradia noted that he had to buckle it two notches tighter than where the worn place in the leather indicated it was usually fastened.