Astra could Read a sense of apprehension sweeping the territory as she rode through the lands west of Zendi. Here and there she picked up thoughts of people preparing to join the army-an army marching against the Aventine invaders. These were the lands of the sorcerer Lenardo, she remembered. He and his savage friends would soon attack Astra’s people … or defend themselves, depending on your perspective. Right now I, too, could be considered an enemy of the Aventine Empire.
She picked up images of Lenardo. His people saw him as a hero. They trusted him, and the union of Adepts and Readers he had brought together.
Constantly monitoring Vortius’ progress, she Read that the gambler and his party avoided attracting attention. Astra did the same, skirting the places where people were gathering for battle. By evening, Vortius reached the foothills of a mountain range that stretched northward to the limits of her Reading abilities. There he made camp on a hilltop surrounded by dense forest.
The farther from the border she got, the more Astra worried about dangers she could not anticipate.
Lenardo was a Master Reader. Scanning for enemies, he could accidentally discover her. I’H not be turned into one of the savages, as he was! But that meant rescuing Zanos that very night, so they could flee Lenardo’s territory.
But how could she do it? Her only advantage was that she was a strong Reader, and there seemed to be no Readers in Vortius’ party.
Yes, that was it! Serafon had unwittingly given her a clue. But she would need a place where she could imprison Zanos-and hold him.
She scanned the nearby hills. The area was dotted with underground caverns, but only one was structured to suit her needs. She made careful preparations, and with a prayer to all the gods set off toward Vortius’ camp at twilight.
There were four guards on the camp’s perimeter, each patrolling one quarter-section of the area. Zanos had the southeast quarter, standing like an armed statue, staring sightlessly into the darkness of the forest.
Astra crept to within a dozen yards of him, remaining behind the trees. Slowly and carefully she focused her mind on his, using a technique forbidden except under the strictest control in the healing of sick minds, salving her conscience with the thought that Zanos’ drug-trapped mind was in desperate need of healing.
She projected an image, a belief into his consciousness-a picture of Serafon, weeping like a mother grieving over the death of her child.
Zanos drew his sword and moved in the direction he believed the “sound” came from. He stumbled into a clearing, looking for Serafon. Astra let the illusion fade, then stepped out from behind the trees.
“Zanos,” she said softly, stretching out her arms to him, “come away with me!”
He stared at her, his blue eyes cold and empty. “Why should I go with you?”
The timing was all wrong; both the drug high and the period of suggestibility had worn off. But of course, Vortius would not send any man to patrol his camp in either of those conditions.
“I’m your wife,” she tried. “Zanos, you have fought for your freedom all your life. Are you going to let Vortius make you his property?”
The reminder of his lifelong determination made him frown for a moment, conflicting with the commands Vortius had implanted. Then Zanos shook his head. “I serve Vortius willingly. And you, my wife- you must serve him, too. Come. I will take you to him.”
“No!” Astra took the hand he proffered, but tugged in the opposite direction-a futile gesture against the gladiator’s size and strength. “Not yet, Zanos. Why… we’ve had no time alone together. Please-come with me to my campfire. Warm yourself, and be with me. I have your flute-don’t you miss your music?”
“Music… yes. Our music will entertain Vortius,” said Zanos.
It hurt her to hear him turn every suggestion to pleasing Vortius, but if that would get him to come with her, let him think what he chose. “Yes-we will get our instruments and practice.”
“No-I must stand guard-”
“There are other guards,” she insisted. “Vortius will be so pleased if you charm him with your music.
Come, Zanos-he’ll expect you to be in practice.”
He stared at her coldly. “Astra,” he said at last, as if he had finally remembered her name. “My wife. Yes, there are other guards, but I mustn’t be gone long.”
“Then just come with me to get the instruments, she begged. “It won’t take long.”
She led him through deepening night, Reading their way to the well-hidden cave where she had made camp. Far inside the hill, where none but a Reader dared penetrate the labyrinth of tunnels, she had prepared for her siege on Zanos’ entrapped mind.
“We need a torch,” he said.
“No-I can Read the way,” she told him. “Just come along with me.”
She uad to win him tonight-if he grew desperate
enough to escape back to Vortius, dawn would reveal the rock chimney high above the campsite she had prepared. She had no doubt that a man of Zanos’ strength, let alone Adept powers, could climb up and out. But the fire would not provide enough light for such a climb. She had until dawn.
When they came into the cavern, Zanos seized the flute avidly and played a few notes. The drug had not dulled his skill. No-it did not affect physical coordination.
Astra picked up her lute and accompanied Zanos, letting him lead the way. But he went nowhere except over the same old ground-the songs they always played, no variations, no improvisations, no syncopation… almost no style.
Finally, Astra undercut the melody with a new harmony, layering notes in an unfamiliar texture born of her fears and frustrations.
Zanos stopped playing. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t you remember? You used to play like that, Zanos. You see what Vortius’ drug has done to you?”
“It makes me strong.”
“You are strong without the drug. Vortius has taken your freedom… and your music.”
He didn’t answer, but lifted the flute to his lips again, glaring at her as he played a variation on the same tune. But it was an old, well-rehearsed variation… and note by note Zanos slid out of it and back to the plain melody, accuracy without spirit.
Astra saw his eyes change-their blankness had disappeared with his anger, but now the anger dissolved to emptiness again. The notes fumbled to a stop. Zanos stared at the flute as if he had never seen it before.
Making no attempt to control her Reading, Astra watched him set the instrument down. “I have to go now,” he said. “They’ll miss me from the watch.” He started to place his flute in its case.
“Zanos, you must clean your flute,” said Astra, “or it won’t play right next time. ‘
“It won’t play right nowl” he protested. “I must go”
Was it hopeless? If he would not cooperate, she could not counter his strength-he could wander in the labyrinth of caves until he went mad with craving for the drug.
What good were all her plans to trap his body here, when Vortius had his mind trapped beyond her reach? Clea had begun her cleansing of the drug with the determination to be free of it. All she could Read from Zanos was an animal-like determination to return to his master.
But as she turned her eyes away from his empty ones, a thought suddenly reached her. “Astra! Don’t turn away. Help me, Astra!”
Her eyes flew back to his, but the blankness remained. The thought had been weak, far away, and was not repeated… it was as if Zanos were trapped deep within his own mind, struggling for control.
“I will help you,” she said.
“I don’t need any help,” he replied as if he had no idea that he had cried out to her. “Show me the way out.”