Jean Lorrah - Empress Unborn

Money in an Academy was communal property; if the Readers earned some, it went into the community coffer; if a Reader had to travel, he was given funds for the journey out of that coffer. Master Clement had instructed that the gold Aradia handed out today was to be kept by the individual Readers, not placed in the Academy treasury. Many of the Readers receiving it had no idea what to do with the money.

Not so the minor Adepts and other citizens! They burgeoned with pride and plans. Many were merchants who had lost property in the storm; they, of course, would rebuild. Others thought of presents for their families, dowries, necessities or luxuries.

Galerio’s cohorts would probably drink and gamble their reward away, Julia knew. Galerio himself, though, wanted a horse, and she wholeheartedly approved. They’d be able to ride out into the country-alone, without his pack of followers. She carefully shielded her thoughts from Master Clement, who would surely feel compelled to relay them to Aradia. Rules of privacy didn’t apply to children when adults thought they violated them “for the good of the child.” How she wished her teacher would stop thinking of her as a child!

Toward the end of the ceremony, Aradia called forth a man who looked less like a hero than anyone Julia had ever seen before. It wasn’t exactly his appearance, although he was perhaps the most “medium”

person Julia had ever seen: medium size, medium build, medium age, medium-brown hair slightly receding. It was his demeanor, as if he wasn’t sure why he was there, his glance darting about as if he expected someone to chase him away.

But Aradia announced, “Wicket, and his friend Pyrrhus who is still in the hospital, are Aventines, but they risked their lives-and Pyrrhus was badly injured-saving the child of one of Zendi’s citizens. It is especially important to remind ourselves that the Aventines are no longer our enemies, but citizens of our empire. Pyrrhus and Wicket proved yesterday that they are brothers to us all. Wicket.” She handed the man two gold coins. “One measure for you, and one for Pyrrhus, in token of the gratitude of your fellow countrymen.”

Wicket stared at the gold, which Julia guessed was more money than he had ever had at one time in his life. She tried to Read his surface feelings-not exactly a forbidden invasion of the privacy of a nonReader if she did not search his thoughts, although she knew she would get a stern lecture from Master Clement if he caught her at it.

But Wicket’s feelings were hidden behind a strange barrier-a wall of nonsense: snatches of songs, jokes, stories swarmed on the surface of his mind, masking not only what he was thinking, but what he felt as well.

Smothering the urge to giggle, Julia stood in silent amusement as Aradia bestowed the Empire’s honor on a common criminal.

Some sort of confidence man, she assumed, pickpocket maybe, or cheat at gambling. NonReader, he had been trained by somebody who knew the Readers’ Code to set up a mental screen lest he be caught at his unlawful activities before he could even perform them. Julia had Read such criminals in Tiberium, where they had operated boldly during the brief time of chaos after the city’s fall.

Later, she had helped her father recognize such people and discourage them from plying their trade in Zendi. Wicket must be new here; there were Readers in the town now who would recognize that barrier.

All he had to do was trigger any citizen’s suspicions, and he’d be caught.

Meanwhile, though, Julia found it amusing that no one else yet knew what Wicket was-and since he had not broken the law, she was not about to tell. Such people who lived by their wits had been her friends in childhood, often willing to amuse a little girl with jokes and stories when no one else had time for her. Of course in the Savage Lands, with no Readers to pry into their heads, they had not needed such mental barriers then.

Flustered at being the object of attention from those in authority, Wicket was saying, “Uh-thank you, Lady Aradia.”

Julia wondered if Aradia noticed that he did not say ” my lady.” She knew many Aventine Readers who, while they acknowledged the titles which indicated the status of the Lords Adept, refused to accept their right to rule them. A single instance, of course, told her little about Wicket’s attitude. It was obvious that he had never met a Lady Adept before.

Neither Aradia nor Master Clement ever referred to Julia as “Lady,” although the people did. It was an issue Julia remained silent on; if she asked for the term of respect from her guardians, they would tell her she was too young. Master Clement, she was certain, would say she should not have the title until she had passed the tests for Magister Reader-and that event was five years away So she said nothing, but also never corrected her people.

Galerio never used the title, though. When the ceremony broke up, he joined her, saying, “How about putting your talent to some use for me, Julia?”

“What do you want me to do?” she asked eagerly, pleased at the chance to have Galerio owe her a favor.

“The horse market’s tomorrow. Come Read the animals for me, and what the dealers are thinking about them. Help me get the best I can for my money.”

“Of course,” she replied. Actually, Galerio did not need her help to keep from being cheated; Readers who knew horses much better than she did patrolled the market to be certain that hidden problems were not palmed off on unwary customers. But their job was not to influence the dealing; Galerio would get a better bargain with a Reader to determine what the dealers really considered their animals worth.

“Julia,” Aradia called.

Knowing she would see him tomorrow, Julia did not linger with Galerio. She had a momentary advantage with her stepmother, since the friend Aradia disapproved of had become a hero, so she could afford to be cheerfully obedient.

In fact, Julia was cheerfully obedient most of the time; she had to admit that Aradia was always just with her, and encouraged her to grow and extend her powers. If pressed, she would also have to admit that Aradia treated her better than her real mother, who had neglected her, often hit her when she was an inconvenience, and eagerly sold her to Lenardo when Julia was revealed as a Reader.

Julia had never known her father-her mother wasn’t even sure which of several possibilities he was-so Lenardo had felt “real” to her from the moment his mind first touched hers. It was harder to accept the stepmother who took his attention from her, but Lenardo had trained her always to seek the truth, the facts.

And the fact was that Aradia went out of her way not to come between Lenardo and Julia.

With Lenardo away, Julia found herself becoming closer to Aradia. Something Aradia had said last night haunted her with its truth.

Julia had been waiting to be scolded for running away in frustration when she had not been able to manifest Adept talent. She had been braced with arguments in her own defense, ready to point out how she had recognized the worth of Galerio and his followers, who had proved themselves heroes in the aftermath of the whirlwind.

Instead, after supper, when Julia was bathed and already in her sleeping garments, Aradia called the girl to her study.

Julia loved that room. It was Aradia’s study, but both Julia and Lenardo often went there in search of books and scrolls, for Aradia was determinedly rebuilding the library she had lost in the destruction of Castle Nerius.

Aradia sat quietly by the window that opened onto the courtyard, on one of the two comfortable lounges.

She was also in her sleeping garments and robe, her pale hair loosened from its intricate daytime style.

On her way in, Julia picked up a wax tablet and stylus from one of the tables-a tablet Lenardo had written on many times. Then she sat down on the lounge where Lenardo usually sat, and swung her feet up.