And there was no such person, she realized sadly, in the whole of the Aventine Empire.
At her mental silence, Tressa urged, “Astra, it’s time to put our differences aside. If Portia can retest and demote even Masters-and may be murdering some she can’t-what chance have young Magisters like us got if we look like a threat to her?”
“What are you proposing, Tressa?”
“We must create our own secret faction-the way they did at the Adigia Academy. Don’t pretend you haven’t heard about Master Lenardo and his students- first Galen went over to the savages, and then Lenardo followed. He came back for another student, Torio-and nobody’s sure whether Master Clement can be trusted anymore.”
It was all Astra could do to keep Tressa from Reading her memory of Master Clement and that boy-Decius-walking through The Maze just before the earthquake. Were they plotting against the empire, afraid to talk within the walls of their own Academy?
After all, Lenardo had been exiled as a traitor for openly declaring that the Aventine Empire should seek peace with the Adept Lords who ruled the lands of the savages-the same savages who could set fires with the powers of their minds, throw thunderbolts, or stop someone’s heart with a glance. They pushed back the walls of the empire, enslaved the citizens of the lands they captured, and killed any Readers they discovered. Everyone had expected Lenardo to meet the same fate-but he hadn’t.
Not long ago the traitor had secretly returned to the empire, entered this very Academy, and faced Portia herself. Astra had seen a tall man with a beard and long hair, but at the time she had had no idea who he was. Soon enough the rumors had started flying-rumors Astra, of all people, could not shut out of her consciousness.
Some said that Lenardo had tried to twist Portia’s mind, using the same Adept sorcery that his captors had used on him. If he had influenced Portia, though, it had been only briefly-she had raised the alarm that very night. Lenardo had fought clear of the city, stealing away one of his former students-a blind Reader named Torio-but the boy had been killed at the border.
Border security was tightened, but people lived in fear of what the savages might try next. What if Tressa was right? What if savage Adepts were indeed slipping in and out of the empire at will? This was no time for Readers to be disputing with one another!
“You want us to turn traitor?” she demanded of Tressa.
“No! I’m saying we can borrow their methods. Astra, just think about it-the Aventine Empire has already lost half its territory. Lenardo has formed an alliance with the savages and even learned their Adept powers. Our only safety was that the savages didn’t have Readers to guide them-and now they do! Just when our only hope is our system of Readers, it’s breaking up into factions!”
“So you want to create another one.”
“No. Well, yes-but look, it’s the old Masters who are tearing the system apart. Surely some of the younger Masters, and almost all the Magisters, would side with us. We could all gather evidence of what Portia and her cronies are doing. Then, if she turns on us-”
“You would threaten the Master of Masters?”
“We have to protect ourselves!” Tressa insisted. “If we can keep Portia at bay for just a while longer, we’ll be safe. She may act like a god, but she’s not immortal. She can’t live many years longer. If Marina gets her place, our troubles will be over.”
“Tressa, the Council would never choose someone like Marina! Not even to head this Academy-and for Master of Masters they’d choose someone strong,
especially if at the time the Council is divided. They’d choose someone who could pull-or force-the various factions back into harmony.”
Clearly, Tressa hadn’t thought so far. “Still, whoever they choose will have to be more rational than Portia. She’s obsessed with the empire’s enemies. Either she thinks the savages are causing all our problems-or she hopes they are, because that would force everyone to join with her to protect the empire.”
“So Portia is no different from everybody else in blaming the savages.”
Ill think she’s really convinced. Haven’t you noticed in the past few months how Portia suddenly needed to “rest” right after every tremor to shake the city? I overheard her telling Marina-”
“Tressa-you’ve been eavesdropping on Portia? And you haven’t been caught?!”
“Astra, I told you-she’s old. Both of them are, and their powers are weakening. I Read Portia telling Marina that the tremors are being caused by savage Adepts.”
Such a thought was almost too frightening to contemplate. Tressa took Astra’s mental silence as a request for further information. “That tremor yesterday did some damage in The Maze-but a real earthquake would level half the city. If that’s the best the Adepts can do, we have nothing to worry about. Portia’s fears are the delusion of an old and senile woman.”
“But one still powerful enough to destroy Magisters who conspire against her,” Astra reminded.
“Whatever plot you’re constructing, Tressa, I want no part of it.”
Astra mentally held her breath, afraid to think as the silence between them grew deeper than the void in which they floated. Finally she caught a thought from Tressa: This one has no love for Portia- she won’t betray me.
Indeed, Astra had no intention of letting this conversation be known-and she let that determination reach Tressa.
But as they were wordlessly parting to return to their bodies, Astra heard another thought: Someday soon, she’ll wish she’d listened to me.
Although she knew she was meant to “hear” it, Astra made no reply, waiting until Tressa’s consciousness had completely departed before she allowed her own turmoil to surface. Were renegade Readers guiding the savage Adepts to destroy the empire? Was that what Master Clement had been doing in The Maze-? Of course they would not try to destroy the city with one or more of their own still within its walls-but had it been a test of their powers?
Surely, oh surely such a plot was possible only in her imagination! If she could talk to someone-but she could trust no one. No one! What was she to do?
Massos charged Zanos at full speed, looking more like a huge black bull than a man as he closed the gap between them. Zanos held his position until the last moment, then made a spinning sidestep, easily evading Massos’ outstretched arms and kicking him in the buttocks as he passed.
The blow threw the black gladiator off-stride, nearly propelling him into the wall. He spun and glared at his master, who was calmly backstepping to the center of the wrestling pit, never taking his eyes off his opponent.
Zanos stopped, set himself with legs spread, and beckoned to Massos. “Come on, plow-ox. Even you can do better than that.”
The six slave-gladiators in the spectators’ seats sucked in a collective breath, but said nothing. For Zanos to challenge Massos to a practice match was one thing-to ridicule him in front of others was to invite injury or death.
Slowly, warily, Massos approached Zanos, circling as he came within arm’s length. Zanos followed his opponent only with his eyes, leaving his right side apparently open. Massos made a sudden leap-and was backflipped through the air, landing with a sickening thud.
The big man lay gasping like a fish out of water, and Zanos wondered if he could ever turn all that raw strength into fighting skill. Massos was turning out to be a bad bargain, although his huge size and exotic appearance struck fear into the inexperienced fighters Zanos pitted him against. Sheer strength had won him many matches, but it was getting harder and harder to find appropriate opponents.
The underground chamber remained silent as Zanos knelt to see that there was nothing wrong with Massos except for having the breath knocked out of him. Then Zanos stood up and unsmilingly helped the man back to his feet.