Jean Lorrah - Flight to Savage Empire

Tressa looked down at the knife again, hefting it-then suddenly threw it at the far wall. As it clattered to the floor, she took in a long deep breath, and Astra could Read her fighting to hold back tears. Anger swallowed Tressa’s grief, and Astra knew she would not follow Master Julius to the plane of the dead.

Not yet.

There was a Temple of Selene attached to Portia’s Academy; Astra had been there many times, playing her lute to the glory of the goddess. Selene protected the chastity of the young female Readers-but she also blessed many young women for the last time at their weddings. Four young girls, Readers in training, were decorating the temple with flowers. They wore pink silk dresses rather than their usual plain white, in honor of the occasion.

A priest and priestess of Selene would officiate at the ceremony-they were not Readers, so there was no reason for the priest not to enter the Academy grounds. Nor for the bridegroom, now that he had been declared failed. Astra Read him in the anteroom, a sad young man, still bewildered and disbelieving.

He was not Reading; all Astra could tell were his surface emotions. He did not seem curious to Read for his bride-not surprising, for Tressa was also not interested in the man chosen for her. Her shields were up more tightly than Astra had ever known; for all she showed, Tressa might not have been a Reader at all.

Astra wanted to tell her she didn’t feel pity- however much she might dislike Tressa, there was no question that she deserved her rank of Magister. Tressa had been treated unfairly-Astra rankled at the injustice, but did not know how to counter it. She had tried before, for Helena. Now she was older, and knew much more than she had then. Now her punishment for disputing Portias decision would be far worse than being deprived of her music.

But Tressa was right: she could not refuse to take sides forever.

Tressa , she thought, holding her thoughts carefully inward so no one could Read them, you will be avenged. I don’t know what, but 1 will do something to help stop this madness !

It was too late for Tressa, but Astra felt better for her vow to do something before Tressa’s fate befell some other Reader. She and Master Claudia hung away Tressa’s black-bordered white gown. The black outer robes of her Magister status had already been taken away. On the narrow bed lay the small parcel of clothes Tressa owned which gave no indication of belonging to a Reader.

Tressa returned from her bath. Claudia helped her into her loose underrobe, and sat her down to arrange her hair. Taming the thick black mass into

chaste braids atop her head took some time, and the silence among the three women stretched endlessly.

Astra fingered the red marriage gown. It was softest silk, and intrinsically beautiful-if only the bride were happily choosing to marry a man she loved. She knew Tressa perceived it as ugly-as she would, were she forced to wear it to wed a stranger and destroy her powers.

What would happen, she wondered idly, if the bride and groom decided not to consummate their marriage? Surely no Master Reader spied on their wedding bed to make certain-

She almost gagged at the thought.

Yet for all the rumors and innuendos her errant powers had brought her over the years, never once had she heard of a couple not performing their marital duties. Peculiar, when they were always strangers and usually sick at heart at having been expelled from the familiar life of the Academy.

A cloying smell assailed her nostrils, and she turned to see Claudia molding the last stray locks of Tressa’s hair with perfumed oil.

Tressa wrinkled her nose. “Uff! That stuff smells like Morella’s whores!”

Indeed it did, Astra recognized, only stronger, and with a few subtle musky tones she didn’t know.

“Oh-I can’t stand that!” Tressa protested. “Let me go wash it off!”

“No,” Master Claudia insisted, one hand on Tressa’s shoulder holding her in place. “It is the traditional wedding oil. You must wear it, just as your bridegroom does. I mixed it for you myself, Tressa-it is the formula specified in the wedding rite of Selene.”

An aphrodisiac , Astra speculated. Probably intended to make things easier. Still, her nose wrinkled too as she brought the red dress and helped Claudia put it on Tressa.

Then Claudia picked up the token both Astra and Tressa had been studiously ignoring-a small enamel badge, black circle on a white background. As she started to pin it to Tressa’s dress, the young woman pushed her hand away. “No! Master Claudia, you know I don’t deserve-!”

“Oh, child,” the older woman said, her eyes brimming with tears, “no Reader thinks she deserves it, but the Council of Masters must make certain that no undeserving Reader reaches the upper ranks. The nonReaders trust us to govern our own.”

A surge of sympathy opened Astra’s powers despite her intent to keep them under control, and she felt the deep sincerity of Claudia’s feelings for Tressa. If there was a conspiracy among the Masters, she was sure the healer was no part of it.

But as she escorted Tressa to the temple, Astra let herself Read for other conspirators. Could she catch someone gloating with satisfaction?

No. There were the girls she taught music, the best of the advanced class, playing sweetly and looking charming in their pink dresses. There were the priest and priestess of Selene, robed in blue and silver.

A privacy screen shielded the door to the anteroom, where the bridegroom waited gloomily, accompanied by two male Masters in their red robes. The Master Readers would Read the ceremony from there, never entering the temple of the Academy of female Readers. Only the groom, on shaking legs, had to walk out to face the assembly.

He, too, was dressed all in red-how ironic, Astra thought, that these two, who had dreamed of wearing the scarlet of Master Readers one day, should end their dreams in the red of marriage garments.

Bride and groom would now see one another for the first time, for neither one had had the desire to Read for the other, both parties enclosed in their private grief. If it was not coincidence, someone had done an amazing job of matching physical types-the young man was slightly taller than Tressa, and had the same thick black hair and black eyes. Astra suspected that when he was in a good mood those eyes would flash just as Tressa’s did. Two of a kind. Was it possible that once they were past the difficulties of this forced marriage they would find happiness together?

Astra sincerely hoped that they would.

The ceremony began. The musicians fell silent, and the priest and priestess began chanting to the goddess, first in her incarnation as the goddess of chastity, then as one of the many aspects of the Great Mother.

Astra, stationed behind Tressa, waited for the signal to remove the light bridal veil. As she leaned forward to do so, she came between the bride and groom… and smelled the scented oil he also wore.

But the man’s was different, pleasant, attractive, drawing her to turn to look at him and realize that he was very handsome indeed-

It is an aphrodisiac ! Astra realized, quickly lifting Tressa’s veil away and stepping back out of range.

Still, she doubted that the powers of that oil could do much against the severe depression of the immediate participants in the ceremony. Neither of them seemed to be attracted to the other-and both were still completely closed to Reading.

They were not allowed to remain so, however. When the priest and priestess completed the wedding prayers, joined the hands of the bride and groom, and had them vow loyalty to the Goddess and to one another, there was only one more step to the ceremony. For nonReaders, that step was merely sharing a goblet of wine, first symbol of the life they would now share.