"You didn't make special soup just for me?" "Of course."

"With everything else you had to do today? Now, you mustn't do that again until we're settled and you're cooking just for me and my… household.'' "Yes, me lord." But she was distressed. "Thank you this time, Cook. The soup is delicious. If there's any left, I'll have it tomorrow, but no fussing over me. From now on, just bring me anything you have except meat."

Arkus found him still sitting on the steps outside the bathhouse, finishing the bread and cheese. "What shall we do with the prisoners, my lord?" "What prisoners?"

"Why, all these people. We've rounded up over a thousand. Where are we going to put them for the night?"

"Let them sleep wherever they've been sleeping until we can create some kind of order."

"But they'll hide again."

"They'll come out for breakfast."

"Not," replied Arkus, "when they know the flogging starts tomorrow."

"Flogging?" Lenardo exclaimed. "What are you talking about?"

"They're thieves, my lord. They've stolen and destroyed your property. You must punish them, and since you're not an Adept, you can't do what Drakonius did."

"No, I'm not Drakonius," Lenardo murmured, recalling with a shudder the time he had observed, powerless, the Adept torturing Galen.

"Well, even Drakonius couldn't handle all the punishments himself. We always flog most of them."

"Not any more, you don't. Arkus, have you looked into the infirmary? There are over a hundred sick and injured people in there. Sandor's exhausted, and now you would deliberately injure a thousand more?"

"Sandor wouldn't have to heal them, and they must be punished," Arkus insisted stubbornly. "Do you want your people to think they can steal from you any time they feel like it?"

"No, but look around. There is an incredible amount of work to be done. Make them do it."

"I don't understaqd."

"Greg and Vona must burn the rest of the bodies to keep disease from spreading. Let the prisoners scrub down the streets. Then they can rebuild the houses they destroyed."

He could Read Arkus' grim disappointment as the young officer said, "What's the matter with you? You can't rule if you act like a country grandmother over a little bloodshed."

"I've shed my share of blood, Arkus. You've seen me fight when I had to. But consider this: how eager would you be to flog someone if you felt every stroke on your own back?"

Arkus's disappointment turned to dismay. "It must be a whole different world for a Reader. Are you not tired, my lord?"

Tired of explaining that Reading did not use up physical energy the way Adept powers did, he simply said, "No, are you?"

"No, I've hardly used my talent today."

"Just to save my life," Lenardo reminded him. "Have you the strength to move some clouds before you sleep?"

"Of course. Let me set the guard first. You know, people still aren't going to come out tomorrow, because they'll be afraid of flogging."

"Arkus, will you stop worrying? I can find them."

"Yes, my lord!"

"And Arkus-"

"Yes, my lord?"

"There are far more than a thousand people in the city. I think the others will show themselves when they find out they'll be fed and not flogged."

That night Lenardo slept deeply and dreamlessly on a pallet on the marble floor. He had left Josa and Arkus to draw the cloud bank he had found toward Zendi. By morning it was raining, but not on the city. Moist breezes refreshed the workers, but the city streets remained dry.

Encountering Arkus and Josa hand in hand, Lenardo told them, "You're showing off."

"No one works well in the rain, my lord," Arkus replied. "Look how well your plan is working."

It did seem to be. Lenardo didn't like the fearful looks when he passed, but he hoped mat would change when they got used to him. None of Aradia's people looked at her that way.

More people crept out of hiding as the news spread that there was food for all and no one had yet been flogged. On the fourth day, the test came.

They were attempting to provide only two meals a day, morning and evening. Lenardo, hot and thirsty, returned to the spring by the bathhouse to run cool water over his head and then take a long drink. The washing-up after the morning meal was completed, and already Cook had some of her staff preparing for evening. When she saw Lenardo, she hurried to his side.

"Are you hungry, me lord? Thirsty? One of the farmers brought in fresh berries."

"Thank him and tell him I'll have them for dinner," said Lenardo. "Do you have enough help, Cook? You're doing a fine job under difficult conditions."

She blushed under his praise. "Right now, people are grateful just for food. That won't last, me lord. Has Helmuth asked you-"

"About locating ale or beer? Yes. I told him to send men out to find as much as possible." He smiled at her. "I may have different dietary requirements Jhan you're used to, but I wasn't raised totally apart from the real world. I know that after working so hard, people want something stronger than water or fruit juice. You know I like a cup of wine myself."

Although Lenardo hadn't meant it that way, Cook called, "Ho! Dorn! Wine for me lord!"

The boy ran into the bathhouse, where the casks of wine were kept cool, and returned with a goblet for Lenardo.

He was no longer thirsty, but he Read that Cook would like some wine, although she would neither ask for it nor help herself to the supply reserved for the Lord of the Land and his officers.

By savage custom, it was a sign of honor and friendship for two people to drink from the same goblet, and so Lenardo offered the wine to the cook, saying, "Will you try some?"

She blushed but dared not refuse. Although she rarely had wine for her own pleasure, she knew the varieties, which to choose to complement various dishes. This was an ordinary white wine, of which they had brought several kegs, but a good one. She held it for a moment to savor the bouquet before tasting.

Amused and happy that he could please this hardworking woman with such a simple gesture, Lenardo Read her reactions, careful not to invade the privacy of her thoughts.

As she sniffed the wine, her delight turned to puzzlement. She frowned and took another whiff. "Could the heat have spoiled it?" she asked, and started to tilt the cup to taste.

Lenardo Read the wine curiously and then in panic grabbed the cup out of the woman's hand, sloshing wine over both of them. "It's poisoned!" Cook gasped, "No! Oh, no, me lord, I never-" "I know you didn't do it, but someone did-someone with access to the wine casks."

Facing a life-threatening situation, Lenardo Read openly. Cook was trying to think of a suspect, still convinced that he would find her the most likely. She followed him into the bathhouse, where he Read the kegs. Only one was poisoned: the half-empty one he and his retainers had been served from.

"The wine was good yesterday," he said. "It was done last night or this morning."

"But I've had thirty people in and out all morning," said Cook. "I knew we shouldn't have pressed those townspeople into service so near me lord's food, but where was I to get help?"

"Cook, I'm not blaming you," Lenardo insisted. "Your keen sense of smell just saved both our lives." "But you Read-"

"Only after you noticed something wrong. I'm not in the habit of Reading for poison in everything I eat or drink."

Satisfied at last that he would not blame her, Cook asked, "Will you Read the workers, me lord? Find out who did this?"

"If he-or she-saw what just happened out there, the culprit is the person running away," Lenardo said. – But no one had run off. Most of the kitchen staff were resting; only the cooking staff-all of whom had come from Aradia's land-were beginning work on the evening meal. Lenardo sent for Arkus and then walked among them, Reading, finding neither hate, fear, nor resentment. Arkus arrived as Lenardo confronted the puzzled, fearful townspeople pressed into scullery service. The terror of being called before the Lord of the Land so obscured individual thought that Lenardo wondered whether he would have to interview each one alone to find his would-be murderer. Although there was plenty of resentment, he could find no hatred strong enough to account for an attempt on his life.