Jean Lorrah - Empress Unborn

“What?’ She was horrified.

“It is rare, but it can happen from a head injury, a disease, or an apoplexy, if it damages that area of the brain. Thus Portia knew exactly which nerves she could destroy, and leave Pyrrhus otherwise undamaged. With the help of Adept Healers,” he added, “we can now heal such injuries when they come from natural causes. Nature does not burn out an entire section of nervous tissue.”

They returned to Portia’s many years of records, which had never been placed in proper order after transport to Zendi. After the earthquake that had literally toppled the Aventine Empire, the scrolls had been plucked from the shambles, brought here, and left until the day someone would have the time to catalogue them. So far, no one had. They found records from forty years ago next to records from the last days of Portia’s tenure, her personal commentaries on her students beside technical studies of Reading techniques.

Suddenly Master Clement plucked an old, yellowed scroll from the rack and handed it to Julia. “Read that.”

She held it, feeling in its faded, dusty contours the keen excitement of a young woman, enthusiastic, idealistic, proud of her accomplishments, and eager to use her newly acquired power for good.

“Portia?” Julia asked incredulously. It was unrecognizable as the evil old woman Julia had known.

“Portia as I first knew her, when I was just testing for the rank of Magister. Take that one with you, Julia; Read it at your leisure. Perhaps we can trace how the fine young woman who became the youngest Master of Masters in all our history turned into a manipulative, power-mad woman capable of crippling Readers to cover her corruption.”

When Julia met Galerio and his friends at noon, she did not really have the horse market on her mind.

She kept her promise, however, and the group of young people left Zendi by Southgate, walking toward the large open area set aside for fairs and celebrations, and the horse market once each month.

It had turned into a lovely sunny day, the ground just damp enough to keep the dust down, the air just cool enough to be pleasant. Dilys and Piccolo never got as far as the market; holding hands, they wandered off the road toward a small woodland.

When they reached the market, Giorgio headed straight for the food vendors, while Blanche and Diana went off toward the booths where trinkets were sold to bored wives, daughters, and children with no interest in the horses. That left Mosca and Antonius with Julia and Galerio, drifting through the crowds to examine the horses in the various roped-off areas.

They passed straight by the young colts and heavy draft animals, and went on to where riding horses were being shown.

Galerio gravitated toward a large ring displaying five magnificent animals, sleek and slender, so built for speed that they almost appeared to be running when they were standing still.

Julia also admired them, but when Galerio asked, “What would a horse like that cost?” she was amazed to Read that he truly wanted one.

“Those are racing horses,” she said. “Galerio, you can’t afford one of those, and if you could it’s not the kind of horse you need.”

“What makes you an expert on what I need?” he demanded.

“You need a reliable riding horse,” Julia replied. “One that can carry you for many miles at a reasonable pace. A horse with enough spirit to be fun to ride, but not too much for an inexperienced rider.”

“Inexperienced-!”

“Galerio, you’re a city boy. Have you ever been on a horse?” she suddenly asked.

“Of course I have!” he replied indignantly. “If this is the way you’re going to help, I’m sorry I brought you along!”

Julia bit back a retort that she didn’t need anyone to “bring” her, and had come as a favor to him. “All right,” she said. “What would you do with a horse like one of those?”

“Um-race it, I guess. Win money.”

“But you’d have to do more than just stable a racehorse. It has to be run every day. And the rider-”

“All right,” said Galerio with a sigh, “I can’t afford the horse, or a trainer, and I don’t have the experience to race it myself. So a horse like that will have to wait till I get rich.”

“You’ll not get rich associating with friends like these!”

Julia and Galerio turned, Julia automatically Reading. “Wicket! What are you doing at the horse market?”

“I might ask you the same question,” said Wicket, who was holding Mosca and Antonius by the arms, one with each hand. Surprisingly, despite squirming and kicking, neither boy seemed able to escape Wicket’s grip. ‘ Associating with pickpockets is not what I’d expect from the daughter of the Lord of the Land.”

“Mosca! Antonius!” Galerio flashed. “Is it true?”

“No, of course not,” Mosca said sullenly, but his light eyes shifted, showing anyone who was watching that he lied.

“But you received money enough yesterday to live well for half a year!” Julia exclaimed. “Why-?”

“Gambling,” said Galerio angrily. “I told you Capero’s gang would cheat you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, well-gotta pay what I owe them,” said Mosca.

“You got into debt ?” Julia asked. “And you too, Antonius?”

The younger boy mutely hung his head.

“I get it,” said Wicket. “The gamblers cheated these kids out of their reward and then gave them a chance to get it back-only they lost twice the sum. Right, boys?”

Mosca refused to reply, but Antonius nodded glumly.

“Fools!” said Galerio. “When are you going to learn not to gamble with Capero and his thugs?”

“I’ll have him run out of town,” said Julia.

“Oh, good lesson,” said Wicket. “Teach these kids that if they have friends in high places they can be as foolish as they please, ‘cause you’ll bail em out!”

Stung, Julia demanded, “Then what would you suggest?”

“If you can’t teach ‘em to be sensible-a lesson I’ve always had trouble with meself-teach em to solve their own problems, not expect someone else to,” Wicket told her.

“That’s what we were doing!” Mosca protested.

“And how long do you think it would have been before a Reader caught you?” Julia asked. “Wicket’s not a Reader, and he caught you before you’d been at it long enough to- How much did you steal?”

“Nothing,” Mosca said tartly. “Your friend here grabbed us before we got anything.”

Although Mosca was braced for use of his small Adept talent, Julia was sure he was lying.

Wicket confirmed her suspicion by shoving Mosca forward as he let go of him. While the boy was off-balance, Wicket’s hand moved so rapidly that Julia did not see how it happened, but Wicket was dangling a small leather money pouch from his outstretched fingers.

Wicket set Antonius on his feet more gently, and held out his hand, palm up. With a shrug, Antonius produced a ruby pendant and a lace-trimmed silk kerchief.

“Give them to me,” said Julia. “The auction pavilion has a place where lost articles may be turned in.”

“Except for the kerchief,” Wicket said, “these are not items usually lost. You would be questioned, Julia. I saw where these came from. Let me just put them back.”

“Now who’s suggesting that someone else solve the problem?” Julia asked.

“Ah, but it’s clear you’ve already learned that lesson, and who am I to lose a chance to do a favor for the daughter of the Lord of the Land?”

Still in possession of the stolen items, Wicket disappeared into the milling crowd.

“Interesting friends you have, Julia,” said Galerio.

“Extremely interesting,” Julia agreed, Reading after Wicket. His head was full of that nonsense he used to mask his thoughts from Readers as he slipped through the crowd, brushing against a woman watching her husband bargain for a pair of carriage horses. Wicket tucked the lace kerchief through her sash as he jostled her, murmuring an apology as he stumbled away.