by Kay Hooper
“So she’s responsible for the laws that prevail here?” Merlin asked.
“More or less. I’ve never met her—or even seen her, for that matter—but I’m willing to bet she’s probably the most intelligent person in Atlantia. She built this city under the very noses of the male wizards, and not one of them realized what it would mean to them.”
“What did it mean to them?”
“A stalemate. With all the female wizards gathered here in one place, they were able to defend themselves effectively even though they were outnumbered. The males stayed away at night because they didn’t want their own powers diminished by the Curtain. During the day it was hardly safe; the females had a nasty habit of ambushing any male they saw, and Antonia had taught them to concentrate on damaging the males’ most vulnerable area, the groin.”
Merlin winced, but said, “That sounds like a very convincing strategy. I assume the males got the point?”
“Oh, yes. Most of them decided, quite logically, that fighting the females—at least openly—wasn’t worth the risk. They were ahead in the battles, after all, especially since the powerless males of the village had developed the practice of systematically raping and killing so many female wizards at night in the valley.”
“But Sanctuary gave the females a safe place,” Merlin said. “The powerless males didn’t dare scale the walls even at night because they were so outnumbered.”
Tremayne nodded. “So things were relatively calm for some time. But then the male wizards began to realize that Antonia was attempting to correct the unbalanced population. She was encouraging the female wizards to bear children even if they didn’t want to marry, and her laws made it possible for breeding to take place with little threat to the females.”
“Ironic. She built this city to shut out the males, wizard and powerless alike, and then had to admit some of them in order to repopulate. What did the male wizards do?”
“They began breeding like rabbits,” Tremayne said flatly. “Seducing powerless women and taking them to the mountains in a concerted effort to breed more male wizards. They slaughter their female children at birth.”
“Yes, I heard that,” Merlin said. “Monstrous.” Serena’s word, and she’d been right.
“It’s also incredibly shortsighted,” Tremayne pointed out, his expression still grim. “With the female wizards using powerless men, and the male wizards using powerless women, there is almost no marrying or mating of powerless couples. And when they do manage to couple, their unions produce few offspring—probably be cause of the effects of the Curtain. Which means that their population is now shrinking.”
Slowly Merlin said, “Eventually there’ll be no powerless people at all in Atlantis. Only wizards.”
“And male and female wizards fear and detest each other far too deeply to mate. There may be a few generations still to be born, but after that …”
Merlin knew only too well that Atlantis would not survive long enough to reach that point, but this new information made the inevitability of their doom even more pitiable.
“Even the land’s being torn apart,” Tremayne muttered as if to himself, his gray eyes lifting to scan the buildings and, beyond Sanctuary’s walls, the mountains. “They tell me the ravines in the valley weren’t there ten years ago, but now a new one opens up every few days. The earthquakes are worse, the plant life is stunted, and most of the animals died out long ago.”
“A dying place.”
Tremayne nodded, his gaze returning to Merlin’s face. “I believe that’s exactly what it is, and I don’t know if anything can prevent the death. I think it may be too late for Atlantia.”
The note of bitterness and helpless rage Merlin heard in the other man’s voice was very close to the emotions evident in the written account of the final hours of Atlantis, and he thought Tremayne was quite probably the author of that narrative. The wizard across the table from him might well be the only survivor of what was to come. But there was no way to be sure.
Before Merlin could respond to what Tremayne had said, the sound of a bell rang out over the city, three tones, clear and sharp.
“Our summons,” Tremayne said, getting to his feet. “Every unmarried male is being called to exit the city.”
Merlin rose, as well, and fell into step with the younger man as they left the cafe and headed down the street. “Are you going to return to your kinsman’s … palace?”
“No, not today. I’ve been looking for someone here in the city, and I think I’ll come in again tomorrow. We are permitted to camp outside the walls as long as it’s within sight of the guards. You’re welcome to share my fire.”
“Thank you, I think I will.” Was Tremayne the wizard who would report the destruction here to the Council of Elders? And if so, what could Merlin do to change that report without risking the possibility of making the situation in his time even worse than it already was?
“He’s invited me to visit his kinsman,” Merlin told Serena as they stood a few yards inside the city gates early the next morning. “Apparently Varian is the most powerful male wizard here, a Master.”
She had been briefly introduced to Tremayne when the two wizards had entered the city. Tremayne hadn’t questioned the introduction of Serena as Merlin’s “companion”; though he had been obviously puzzled by the term, he was apparently too courteous to ask awkward questions. He had left the two of them alone, continuing into the city after arranging to meet Merlin later at the cafe where they had been the previous day.
Serena nodded. “Then you should certainly go. We’ll probably learn more if we split up, and there isn’t a lot of time to waste. I’ll be all right here. Roxanne is … very informative.”
Merlin studied her face, wishing it didn’t seem so unresponsive. He could hardly blame her for withdrawing from him, especially after he had confessed that he’d been ordered by the Council to take away her powers, but it hurt nonetheless. She had said she trusted him; didn’t she know he could never deliberately hurt her? Or had her confidence in him been shaken by what he had told her—and by this place?
Christ, was she afraid of him now?
“I think Tremayne might be the witness,” he told her, keeping his voice matter-of-fact. “There’s no way to be certain, of course, but the more time I spend with him, the better able I’ll be to reach a judgment about that.”
“And then?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, Serena. If Tremayne is the witness, it seems to me that our best chance of changing what will happen to the society of wizards in the future is to somehow change his report to the Council. To convince him that male and female wizards can coexist peacefully, that what happened here doesn’t have to happen in the rest of the world.”
Serena gazed up at him, remembering what he had told her yesterday, what he had explained about the society of wizards in their own time.
There have been no females trained as wizards for many long centuries. After what happened here, the more powerful male wizards outside Atlantis destroyed the females in some kind of violent purge. And after that the Council made it our most inviolate law that no woman should be instructed in our arts. Ever. The Council enforces that law with an iron fist. They don’t even remember why, but the very concept of any woman with our abilities terrifies them.
Them.
Quietly she said, “How can you convince him we can coexist peacefully when you don’t really believe it yourself?”
“Serena, I’ve risked everything I am to change that.” His black eyes were suddenly naked. “Everything. At least give me credit for trying. I’ve been fighting my deepest instincts since I looked across a table one night and saw a woman instead of a child.”
She hadn’t expected him to admit that, and it shook her. “At least now I know why sometimes you’d go all cool and distant. I never knew before. I … I thought there was something wrong with me.”
He lifted a hand as if to touch her, but then must have remembered the laws of Sanct
uary. His mouth tightened as his hand fell to his side. “No, there was nothing wrong with you. And I didn’t really know what was wrong with me until I had to face the Council.”
Serena tried to hold her voice steady, but it shook with the intensity of her chaotic emotions. “Knowing what’s wrong doesn’t seem to help very much, does it? I know you’ve never tried to hurt me, but now I know you could if you wanted to. You could destroy me with a simple wave of your hand. And knowing that scares the hell out of me.”
“I would never deliberately hurt you, Serena,” he said. “No matter what happens here, that won’t change. Even if I have to fight the entire Council of Elders, I won’t take your powers.”
“But you could. You have the ability to take from me something I cherish. Something I need to survive. I’d die without my powers. You know that, don’t you?”
A muscle leaped in his jaw as Merlin nodded. “Yes, I know that.”
Serena nodded in turn, her eyes never leaving his. “So how should I feel about that? Frightened? Worried? A hell of a lot more vulnerable than I was yesterday?”
“I won’t hurt you.”
“I want to believe that. But how can I be sure? How can you? You can’t even let yourself trust me. And I know … there’s a part of you that can’t even bear to touch me.”
“Serena—”
She shook her head to cut him off. “Like I said, knowing what’s wrong doesn’t help. You go along with Tremayne and try to convince him. Maybe somewhere along the way you’ll convince yourself.”
He knew she was right in the essence of what she was saying; until they got past the tangle of emotions that came of facing barriers neither of them had created, it simply wasn’t possible to find a solution.
“All right. I may be gone several days, I don’t know. After what happened to Roxanne, I hope you’ll agree to stay close to the city.”
Serena nodded, but then said, “Just in case I happen to get caught outside the gates when the sun goes down, maybe you’d better mark me so those village Neanderthals won’t dare bother me.” Her voice was unemotional. “The mark should be here.” She touched the base of her throat, just below the hollow.
Merlin knew what she meant, because Tremayne had told him of the common practice. Evenly he said, “For the sake of your safety, I’ll do it, but it doesn’t mean anything, Serena.”
She glanced down at the mark of power on the back of his right hand, then shrugged. “Just don’t make it a pentagram, that’s all I ask.”
It was up to him to choose a symbol. Merlin didn’t stop to think, he just looked at the spot and marked her.
Serena had been aware of no sensation, but she knew the instant it was done. And she felt … peculiar. Still wary and confused and more than a little frightened, yet at the same time conscious of a fragile and tenuous connection between them that hadn’t been there before. Was the mark meaningless? No. It told everyone in Atlantis that she belonged to Merlin, and even if it was done as a ruse, there was something so damned primitive about being tagged with a mark of possession.
“Thanks,” she said dryly.
He looked at her intently. “Serena … be careful.”
“Yeah. You, too.”
“I’ll see you in a few days.”
“I’ll be here.”
It wasn’t until nearly an hour after that stiff leave-taking that Serena caught sight of her distorted reflection in the thick glass of a window, and saw the mark he had given her. It stood out clearly against her creamy flesh, its outline precise and perfect, its color a rich scarlet, and she had no doubt at all that no other wizard of Atlantis would have used the symbol.
That was probably why he had chosen it, of course.
He had marked her with a heart.
NINE
Tremayne had almost given up hope of finding her, but shortly after he left Merlin talking to his companion (whatever that meant) near the gates of the city, he turned a corner off the main street and saw the woman who had haunted his thoughts for so long.
She was standing on the bottom step outside the front door of a house. A small girl with red hair was hopping up and down excitedly in front of her, while the fair-haired young woman held a doll in her hands.
She was a wizard, Tremayne realized as he slowly approached the two. She was neatly repairing damage to the doll, injuries apparently inflicted when the child, also a wizard, had practiced using her own powers.
“There, Kerry,” the woman said, handing the doll back to its owner. “Now, try to remember what your Teacher taught you about conjuring. Never practice on any object that means a great deal to you, not until you’re more confident.” Her voice was gentle, but also firm.
“I didn’t mean to practice on Chloe, Roxanne—it just sort of happened,” Kerry explained, cradling her restored doll happily.
Roxanne. Her name seemed to run through Tremayne’s body like wine, making his heart beat faster and his breath catch in the back of his throat. Though he was still several steps away from her; he thought he could smell the sun-washed scent of her pale hair and sweet fragrance of her skin.
She’s a wizard. But it didn’t matter. Right then, nothing mattered except his overwhelming need to … what? To touch her? No, that was forbidden here, and besides, he wanted something more than that, something deeper. He wanted to … make a connection with her, forge a connection, to somehow bind her to him.
“Kerry, why don’t you run over to Dara’s house and play now,” Roxanne suggested slowly. She was very still suddenly, and Tremayne knew she was aware of his presence.
But the little girl had seen him, and her eyes widened uneasily as she stared at him.
He stopped no more than two steps from them and smiled at the child. “Hello, Kerry.”
Never having spoken to a male wizard in her entire life, Kerry seemed at a loss, torn between natural childish curiosity and the wariness drummed into her by her elders. “Hello. Who’re you?” she demanded finally.
“My name is Tremayne. I’m a visitor in Atlantia.” He thought it was very important to make that distinction; he wanted Roxanne to know he was not one of the Mountain Lords, who had so tormented the female wizards here. She wasn’t looking at him, but he knew she was listening.
“Where do you come from?” Kerry asked. She had also never spoken to anyone born outside Atlantia.
“A place called Europa. It’s across the sea.”
“I’ve never seen the sea,” she told him somewhat indignantly. “They won’t let us cross over the mountains, and that’s where the sea is. Does the sea have a Curtain?”
“No,” he told her gently. “Only Atlantia has a Curtain.”
The child’s wide blue eyes lifted toward the mountains, and she said wistfully, “I’d like to live in a place that didn’t have a Curtain. I don’t like the way it makes me feel at night.” Then she looked back at Tremayne and frowned. “I guess you heard her say I’m Kerry. And she’s Roxanne.”
“I’m most pleased to meet you, Kerry. Roxanne.”
Tilting her head to one side, Kerry said, “You sounded funny when you said Roxanne’s name. And you looked funny. Does your tummy hurt?”
Tremayne cleared his throat, not surprised that the child had interpreted what she saw and sensed as pain; it was a fairly accurate assessment. “No, Kerry, I’m fine. Do you … live around here?”
“Over there,” she replied, nodding toward across the street. “My mommy died when I was born, so I live with Felice. But Felice is trying to have a baby. She goes to the breeding house almost every day, so Roxanne looks after me sometimes. She’s my very best friend. She lives here.”
Roxanne spoke for the first time since Tremayne had introduced himself, her voice low. “Kerry, I want you to go and play with Dara now. I’ll come and get you for lunch.”
“All right, Roxanne.” The child started to back away, her bright eyes fixed on Tremayne. “You’ll come back, won’t you? An’ tell me more about the sea?”
; “Of course I will, Kerry.”
“You shouldn’t have told her that,” Roxanne said as Kerry disappeared around the corner and out of sight.
“Why not?” Tremayne knew his voice was husky, but he couldn’t seem to control it. He wished Roxanne would look at him, wished it so fiercely that it hurt. “I’ll tell her anything she wants to know about the sea.”
“So she can long for what she can never have?”
He took a step closer so that he was standing directly in front of her but with a careful distance between them. “I’m sorry—that was thoughtless of me.”
“Thoughtless, or deliberately cruel?” She didn’t raise her eyes from their contemplation of the middle of his chest.
Tremayne drew a breath and spoke evenly. “After what I’ve seen in Atlantia, I can’t blame you for disbelief and suspicion; all I can do is tell you that I’m not like the male wizards here.”
She met his eyes finally, her blue ones as turbulent as the sea during a storm. “No?”
“No. I … I’ve been searching for you since the day I first saw you. I wanted to talk to you, to know your name. That day, the day you looked up at me, I felt something I’d never felt before, and I saw it in your eyes—”
“Wariness,” she said.
“No, it was something else.”
“It couldn’t have been.” Her voice was growing strained. “You’re a wizard. I’m a wizard. There can be nothing else between us.”
“I think you’re wrong. I know you’re wrong. Roxanne, I’m no boy to be deceived by hopeless fantasies—”
“No,” she cut him off flatly. “You’re a wizard. Wherever you’re from and whatever you call yourself, we both know that your kind has the power here. At night you can escape above the Curtain. You can escape Atlantia. You have no reason to be afraid.”
Tremayne wanted so badly to touch her, but he dared not; he knew he was under observation, probably from at least one of the windows on the street, because that was the way of Sanctuary, and he knew that if he broke any of their laws, he’d be lucky to get out of the city with his life. All he could do to sway her was to use his words, his voice, his intensity.
