Thus far, our Readers have been unable to trace the source.”
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you,” Pyrrhus said with his well-practiced insincere smile.
Master Clement looked at Aradia. “You told him?”
“He asked.”
“Yes, of course he would.” He turned to the man on the bed. “Pyrrhus, it is best you know the truth.
However, you should know the whole truth.”
Pyrrhus was lounging in a deliberately casual pose, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. If Sistena saw his boots on her clean bedding, Aradia thought, she’d tongue-lash him out of such casualness.
But, head tilted curiously, Pyrrhus was asking, “What more is there to know? The nerves are burnt out. I will never be able to Read again.”
“You have not lost all your powers.”
“Oh, yes,” Pyrrhus replied acidly, “I can still send thoughts with a Reader’s power. I did so in the rapport that killed Portia. I suppose you could use me as a transmitter of messages to other Readers-but what good does that do me?‘t”
Master Clement gestured toward the weapons on the bed at Pyrrhus’ feet. “Readers make the best swordsmen,” he said. “Wicket says you are the best swordsman he’s ever seen.”
“Wicket is a fool,” sneered Pyrrhus.
“You are still alive,” Master Clement countered. “Pyrrhus…”
At the tone of the old man’s voice, Pyrrhus relented. “You’re right,” he said. “When I realized that I could not Read at all, I was afraid I could no longer fight- that I wouldn’t survive to take revenge. But the first time I had to use my sword I was caught by surprise, and reacted instinctively. When it was over, I realized I had lost none of that skill.”
Master Clement nodded. “That is consistent with what we found. Portia destroyed the nerve center for analyzing and interpretation what you Read. You are still Reading, Pyrrhus-but what you Read no longer reaches your conscious mind.”
Pyrrhus shrugged. “It’s all the same to me.”
“No, it’s not” said Master Clement. “You don’t think and analyze when you’re fighting. What you Read goes straight into action.”
“What’s that?” came Wicket’s voice from the doorway. “There’s actually something Pyrrhus doesn’t analyze to death?” As he stepped forward, all of them stared, for Wicket was covered with dirt and grime.
At their looks, he gave a sheepish grin. “I was afraid
Pyrrhus might be awake already, so I hurried on over here. An’ I was right, wasn’t I?” he added brightly.
“Where’ve you been?” Pyrrhus demanded impatiently.
“The horse market. There was a fire, and then-”
“Oh, that,” Pyrrhus said in bored tones. “We’ve heard all about it already.” He gave one of his arctic smiles. “Isn’t it convenient to have friends who are Readers?” Having effectively stopped the conversation, Pyrrhus savored the moment’s silence before asking Wicket, “What were you doing at the horse market?”
“Thought we might need horses, didn’t I? Thought you might want to leave.”
” Did you?’ Pyrrhus began dangerously, but Master Clement stepped in before he could continue.
“Pyrrhus, don’t leave without discovering the extent of your remaining powers. Let us treat you at the Academy.”
“My Academy days are long over, Clement,” Pyrrhus replied.
“Then come and stay at my villa,” said Aradia. “Both of you are welcome, and there is certainly plenty of room.” In fact, more than half the rooms were empty, and would remain so until Lilith arrived with her entourage.
Wicket was watching Pyrrhus closely, and jumped in before Pyrrhus could refuse. “The royal residence!
Think of it, Pyrrhus. When are we ever gonna live in the lap of luxury?”
Pyrrhus glanced at Wicket with tolerant amusement. “You didn’t buy any horses?”
“Nah-they closed down the market on me.”
“You realize you’ll have to take a bath before you can set foot in Lady Aradia’s home?” Pyrrhus teased him.
“What-two baths in the same day?” Wicket replied as if the thought pained him.
“That’s the condition for sitting in the lap of luxury,” Pyrrhus explained.
Because Wicket looked genuinely torn by the decision, Aradia laughed, and waved her hand toward him.
The gesture was theatrical effect, of course-Adept power pulled the grime out of his clothes and onhis skin and hair, leaving him cleaner than when he had left the baths earlier, since he was still wearing yesterday’s clothes.
Wicket stared down at his sparkling clothing, and delicately stepped out of the circle of dirt that had fallen at his feet. Then he grinned at Pyrrhus. “Isn’t it convenient,” he asked conversationally, “to have friends who are Adepts?”
When Julia got home, she found she didn’t have to Read for Wicket: Aradia had invited him and Pyrrhus to stay at the villa.
It was all she could do to get through the evening meal, worrying about Galerio. He had to face Capero with Mosca and Antonius tonight if their scheme was to work. If he didn’t convince the gambler that it was worth his while to try to snare Galerio, all three young men would have their throats slit.
After dinner, Julia sat in the luxurious parlor, trying to follow the conversation between Aradia, Master Clement, Pyrrhus, and Wicket. Ordinarily, she would have been fascinated. Tonight she was only worried.
Finally, though, a servant brought her a message, scribbled in Galerio’s almost indecipherable hand:
“Tomorrow, one hour after sunset.”
She saw Wicket notice, but his attention went immediately back to the conversation.
Aradia also noticed. “Julia, you are not going out tonight.”
“No, Aradia, I had no intention to,” she replied.
Aradia did not ask what the message was.
That trust made Julia want to tell Aradia. But she knew better. Her stepmother would feel compelled to stop it, but if she stopped Capero from harming Mosca and Antonius now, he would find another way to take revenge.
And Galerio would never forgive Julia if she brought Aradia into it.
No, it was best for Aradia never to find out at all.
When Julia got up to go to bed at her usual time, Wicket said, “I’m tired. I think I’ll get some sleep, too.
Good night, everyone.”
Pyrrhus eyed his friend. “I’ve done nothing but sleep for the past two days. Will you leave me to the tender mercies of these two?” he asked, indicating Aradia and Master Clement.
“Aww, I don’t think they’re gonna cook you up for breakfast,” Wicket replied. “Maybe after breakfast, though,” he added, referring to Pyrrhus’ reluctant agreement to let Master Clement test him in the morning. “But I gotta put up with you afterward. Better get my rest, Pyrrhus.”
As Julia suspected, Wicket wanted to talk with her. He and Pyrrhus had been given rooms on the other side of the courtyard from the family suite. “Where is it safe to talk?” he asked. “Or is there anyplace?
The old man-”
“You mean Master Clement? Wicket, he would not spy on us! And we’re not being watched. Entryways, the treasury-those are guarded at all times by both Adepts and Readers. But don’t fear being Read inside the villa, especially not in any private rooms.”
“That’s a relief!” he replied.
“You grew up in the Aventine Empire-you must know that the Reader’s Oath protects the privacy of nonReaders.”
“Never had much to do with Readers, did I?” he replied. “Least never knew I did.”
Julia took him to her room, where she gave him her small supply of money. “That won’t be enough to make you look like a rich merchant,” she said.
“I’ll claim I’ve been spending in anticipation of a large sum. This will do. But there’s another problem: I need proper clothes for the part.”
He was right. His plain tan shirt and hose and multicolored tabard were nothing like what a wealthy Aventine merchant would wear.
Fortunately, Aventine styles were loose, not like the savage clothing that had to be fitted to the person wearing it to look right.