by Kay Hooper
“Serena, you have to remember that this isn’t our world, or our time. Whatever these people are doing, it was done long before either of us was born. We can’t change them. All we can do is try to understand their society and why it developed the way it did. We came here for answers, remember? Even if we decide to take some definitive action, we can’t do anything at all until we have the answers we came for.”
She didn’t move, didn’t shrug off his hands or try to pull back from him, but when she lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye, it was obvious she had endured one shock too many; she wanted the truth, and her words made that clear.
“What answers, Richard? Why did we come here? I have to know.”
His hands tightened, feeling the deceptive fragility of delicate bones and a slight build, the warmth of her. The flesh under his thumbs was soft and satiny. He couldn’t turn his gaze away from her, seeing beautiful green eyes in a lovely face, bright red hair that was a symbol of passion, and a desirable, sensual body even the bulky clothing of Atlantis could not disguise.
Was every woman so graceful, or only Serena? Was her voice so enticing because it was a siren song, created to lead him to his doom? She drew him … and repelled him. He wanted her—Christ, yes, he wanted her, he’d wanted her for years—but at the same time his wariness of her grew so acute, it threatened to drive him mad.
“Richard.” Her voice was low and held pain.
Realizing only then what he was doing, Merlin managed to force his hands to relax. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Serena.”
She was pale, and her eyes seemed larger than ever as she stared up at him. “That’s the first time you’ve ever …” She drew a quick breath. “Tell me why we’re here. I have to know the truth.”
“I think … you already know,” he said reluctantly.
“Because what’s happening here does affect our time? Is that what we came back to try to change? Because male and female wizards fight and hurt each other even in the twentieth century?”
Merlin hesitated, and his hands tightened on her again, this time gently. “Serena, in the twentieth century there are no female wizards. Except you.”
Roxanne watched them and wished she could hear what they were saying. They looked very intense, both of them a little pale and utterly still, as if whatever they were talking about mattered a great deal to them.
She didn’t trust Merlin, naturally, but had to admit if only to herself that she owed him her life. Why had he healed her injuries? From all she knew of male wizards, not one would lift a finger to save a female, counting himself lucky that there’d be one less enemy for him to worry about.
Serena might have encouraged him to do it, of course. But, again, Roxanne knew of no male wizard who would pay the least heed to the wishes of any powerless female. If Merlin had indeed healed Roxanne because Serena had asked him to, the rapport between them was certainly out of the ordinary.
And baffling to Roxanne. They traveled together, a very powerful male wizard and a strikingly beautiful woman, both of them obviously in the prime of life and health—and yet she wasn’t his concubine? They were companions, Serena had explained, and yet Roxanne saw and sensed an intensity of emotion between them that she could only compare with those of the mated pairs she knew in the city. There was always an underlying wariness between such mates, but also a powerful need that seemed to be beyond reason or understanding. To Roxanne, anyway.
Watching the two by the stream, she wondered what it was they felt. Though he was quite adept at controlling his features, even Merlin seemed to be struggling with emotion, something Roxanne had believed was impossible for a male wizard. Did he actually care about Serena? She cared for him, that was plain, but many powerless women Roxanne knew had deluded themselves into believing that the wizards who bedded them felt love, as well as lust. Still, despite her emotions, Serena was hardly subservient to the wizard. She followed him readily, but seemed to do so by her own choice rather than his force or will.
Could such things be the norm in the place where they came from, that Seattle? Were male wizards there capable of kindness, perhaps even of genuine caring?
Roxanne didn’t know, couldn’t know, but the possibility made a pang of wistfulness dart through her—gone as quickly as it had appeared. Even if there were places outside Atlantia where male wizards weren’t treacherous and brutal, it could make no difference to Roxanne, because she was trapped here and because she was a wizard.
Unbidden, she remembered her recent encounter with another stranger. He had come to the city—unusual though not unheard of behavior for a male wizard. A young man, he had obeyed the laws without protest and had seemed content to wander about, his occasional questions polite and unthreatening. Handsome, as most of the male wizards were, he had smiled often and once had even laughed out loud….
With an effort Roxanne closed the door on those thoughts. It was, after all, pointless to think of such things. Perhaps she had felt something unexpected, even extraordinary, when she had looked up into his clear gray eyes, but it hardly mattered. They were both wizards.
Besides that, Roxanne doubted she would ever be able to feel anything except fear and cold sickness if any man, wizard or powerless, came near her. Her memories of what had happened to her were mercifully clouded, but they haunted her nonetheless. They always would, she knew. Merlin had healed her injuries so well, she bore not a single scar to remind her of the violence of that night; still, she could hardly forget.
In fact, she could be bearing a lasting reminder of the violence done to her. It had occurred to her last night, and though Serena had urged her to grieve and get angry, Roxanne’s tears had come from the realization that her rapists’ seed might well have taken root in her womb.
If that had indeed happened, Roxanne would be bound by the laws of Sanctuary to bear the child, though she wouldn’t be required to rear it herself. Oh, everyone would be sincerely compassionate about what she had suffered, but she would not be allowed to harm herself or the unborn child. In Sanctuary the scarcity of children made abortion punishable by death.
Roxanne’s hand crept to her lower belly, and she prayed to every god she didn’t believe in to spare her the torment of giving life to the child of a brutal rapist. And even as she prayed, her eyes lifted to scan the mountains ringing the valley, probing for the gleam of palace windows half hidden among trees.
EIGHT
The closer they came to the city, the larger it looked to Serena. The stone wall surrounding it was very high—at least twelve feet—which meant that as they approached, what they mostly saw were rooftops (slate or tile), and what little was visible through the open gate.
Open, but guarded. Four powerless men, armed only with knives at their belts and simple bows, stood impassively on either side of the gate, arms folded. Like the village men Serena and Merlin had first encountered, they were dressed in heavy trousers and laced shirts, but wore no coats. They appeared formidable, since they were carbon copies of the Neanderthal villagers, but it was obvious they weren’t the true guards—at least not during the day.
The two women evidently were guards; Serena could sense their power and knew both were wizards. Unlike the men, they carried no visible weapons, but their inner force would undoubtedly make them far more deadly than the males until the night and the Curtain sapped their strength.
Both were as delicately lovely as Roxanne. Like her, they were blond, a couple of inches shorter than Serena, and appeared almost ethereal—fragile rather than frail. There was nothing weak about the way they stood, hands on hips, and watched Roxanne and the newcomers approach.
“Let me speak to them,” Roxanne warned her companions quietly. “Strangers are rare here, and a Sentinel’s duty is to be suspicious of everything.”
A bit hurriedly Serena said, “Is there anything in particular we should know about the city before we go in?”
“Yes.” Roxanne glanced at Merlin to include him in what she had to say, but looked
directly at Serena. “You’ll be cautioned to obey the laws posted just inside the gates, but no one will mention punishment. It’s very simple here. The price you pay for breaking any law is banishment from the city—forever. That’s true of wizard and powerless alike. However, because of the fear and mistrust between male and female wizards, every male is watched carefully, and if he’s caught breaking any one of the laws, he’s likely to be attacked and severely injured before the Sentinels can get him out of the city. Remember that.”
Merlin nodded slightly to show he understood, even though neither woman was looking at him. Serena had said very little since their brief but intense talk by the stream; finding out that she was the sole female wizard in their time had shaken her badly, and she had pulled away from him almost immediately. Her face had closed down and was still closed, pale, expressionless, and her eyes were unreadable.
He hadn’t wanted the conversation to end that way, so abruptly and with so little explained, but it was clear Serena had absorbed all she was able to for the moment. So now they were on the verge of entering a city where it was clear Merlin could be viewed with open suspicion and hate, and where Serena would undoubtedly be forced to digest even more disturbing information about this splintered and doomed society.
How would that affect them both?
Roxanne reached the guards first, the other two halting behind her, and spoke pleasantly to her fellow wizards. “Good afternoon, Nola. Phaedra.”
“We thought you lost, Roxanne,” Phaedra responded in the same amiable tone. She was the taller of the two guards by an inch or so, and wore a half smile that didn’t reach her slate gray eyes. “Two nights away from Sanctuary?”
“I was foolish, and I paid the price for it. If it hadn’t been for these strangers, I would have died.”
Showing little interest in whatever Roxanne had suffered, Phaedra frowned. “They are a pair?”
“They—travel together. Such things are done where they come from, Phaedra.”
Phaedra looked beyond Roxanne at the strangers, particularly Merlin—at whom Nola had been coldly staring during the conversation. Without speaking to Merlin, Phaedra looked at Serena. “You are not bound in any way by him once you enter the city. Do you understand that?”
“Yes.”
“If you wish to remain inside the city walls, he cannot compel you to leave. Any claim to ownership he has is meaningless inside Sanctuary.”
Serena couldn’t let that pass. Quietly she said, “He doesn’t own me—in or out of the city.”
Phaedra was clearly surprised and not a little disbelieving. “No?”
“No. Where we come from, things are … different.” Serena wondered miserably if they really were, but managed to keep her voice cool.
“Interesting.” Still doubtful but not overly concerned, Phaedra turned her flat, slate gray eyes to Merlin. “Whatever your customs may be, the laws of Sanctuary are clear and strictly enforced. Within these walls you do not command. Do you understand?”
“I understand.” Merlin kept his voice calm and neutral.
“Are you prepared to obey the laws of Sanctuary?” He inclined his head slightly. “I am.”
Phaedra turned her head to look questioningly at Nola. “How does he rank?”
“Powerful. A seventh-degree Master.”
Serena was a little startled by that, since she hadn’t been aware there were degrees of achievement past the ultimate level of Master. She thought both Roxanne and Phaedra were startled, as well, and wondered how Nola was able to differentiate among amplitudes of power. A specialty, perhaps? It made sense; in primitive cultures an individual’s strongest or more distinctive talent was often how he or she was known to others, and frequently determined chores or duties.
If there were wizards with strengths in designated areas, then no wonder Roxanne had accepted Serena’s explanation about Merlin’s being a gifted healer.
Phaedra was frowning again as she stared at Merlin. “A seventh-degree Master. I know of only two wizards here who have ever achieved so high a degree of power. Why did you come to Atlantia?”
“I’m a traveler, no more,” Merlin replied, still neutral. “Atlantis is one stop among many. I have no intention of breaking your laws, or interfering in any way with your society. I give you my word.”
Looking sharply at Serena, Phaedra demanded, “Can he be expected to keep his word?”
Serena’s slight hesitation went unnoticed by everyone except him. “Yes, he can.”
“We shall see.” Phaedra shrugged and spoke to Merlin again, coldly. “Make no mistake—no matter how powerful you may be, we in this city have learned to defend ourselves. We will not tolerate any difficulty from you.”
“I understand.”
“Where is your staff?”
Merlin used one hand to open slightly the left side of his coat, revealing his staff, which was fastened to his belt the way a sword would be worn, with the gleaming crystal uppermost. Only Serena seemed to be aware that the staff had not been there seconds before.
Studying the gem-studded instrument, Phaedra appeared unwillingly impressed by its magnificence and its craftsmanship, but she didn’t comment. Instead she said, “No male wizard may pass into the city unless he is willing to bear the mark of power. Is that your choice?”
If he wanted to enter Sanctuary, Merlin thought wryly, then there was obviously no choice to make. He had only an inkling of what this “mark of power” would be, but he answered the question in a dispassionate tone. “Yes, it is.”
Nola spoke for only the second time. “Hold out your hand, palm down.”
Merlin obeyed, holding his right hand out in front of him, and Nola stretched out her hand without coming any nearer. Watching, Serena felt more than saw Merlin tense as the reddish shadow of an owl etched itself across the back of his hand between wrist and knuckles. It was a highly visible sign.
When it was done, Phaedra spoke again. “Our laws are posted just inside the gates. Study them well. And welcome to Sanctuary.”
The two Sentinels stepped aside.
Roxanne immediately led the way past the guards and through the city’s gates. She didn’t take them down the main road, which wound from the gates through the city, but halted just a few yards inside, where the solid stone wall of a building provided a smooth surface for the laws to be recorded.
“Both of you should study the laws,” Roxanne said to Serena. “While you do so, I have a few matters to take care of, including arranging accommodations for you.” She paused, then asked diffidently, “Will he be permitted in your house?”
Serena wondered if Roxanne would ever address Merlin directly. “Yes. Will that be a problem?”
Roxanne frowned. “I don’t know. I’ll have to find out if special permission is required. If you’ll wait here, I will return in a few minutes.”
Serena looked after her as she headed toward what looked like an official building not far away. Every visible building was very plain and quite solid in appearance, with stone walls and slate or tile roofs. Doors were heavy wood, and windows used a kind of glass that was poorly made, thick, and warped.
From where they stood Serena couldn’t see very many people, but those she glimpsed were almost all women. There were two men, both obviously powerless, standing near or walking with women, the couples too far away for her to determine if the women were wizards. And she saw one child, a little girl with carrot-color hair who was playing with a doll on the steps of one of the smaller buildings.
It was a very quiet city.
Despite being female, Serena didn’t feel very welcome. She could only imagine how Merlin must have felt.
Turning her head, she looked at the wall and, for an instant, saw nothing but meaningless symbols. But then the writing seemed to shimmer faintly, and she found she could see the laws written neatly in English. Apparently Merlin had considered the possibility that they’d have to cope with an unfamiliar written, as well as spoken, language.
She began reading, not really surprised to find that most of them were specifically designed to restrict powerless men and male wizards.
“A city of women indeed,” Merlin said quietly.
Serena glanced at him, saw that he was studying the laws and absently rubbing the back of his right hand with the fingers of his left, and then returned her gaze to the tersely written decrees. They were certainly clear, and quite simple.
No male, wizard or powerless, was allowed to touch any female in public unless she was his legal wife; in private, physical contact by any unmarried male was allowed only by prior arrangement. (Serena found that last bit somewhat unsettling.)
Every unmarried male and all male wizards were required to exit the city before the gates were closed one hour before sunset each day; any discovered in the city after the curfew would be subject to the most severe punishment (unnamed).
No unmarried male or male wizard could enter any private residence without an invitation issued and properly recorded in the presence of at least two witnesses. (The meticulous caution, Serena thought, was terribly sad and not a little tragic.)
And no Master wizard, male of female, was permitted to draw his or her staff inside the city walls.
There were a few more laws, most of them a bit more general and applicable to all the citizens of Sanctuary—the usual rules most societies eventually adopted about not stealing or destroying private or public property or hurting other people.
Serena could feel Merlin looking at her. They hadn’t spoken directly to each other since that confrontation by the stream, and she was wary of talking to him now. He’d given her so much to think about, and there had been no chance for her to try to work through it all. All she was certain of was that she had never really known him, or the society of wizards she had longed for her entire life to be a part of.
“The law about Master wizards’ drawing their staffs,” she said finally without looking at him. “Does it mean using the staffs to focus power?”
“I assume so. Serena—”