The Wizard of Seattle (27 page)

“Yes. It is.” Serena was sitting on a low wall that surrounded a small courtyard between Roxanne’s house and the one next to hers, while the younger wizard sat
on her front step, repairing—by hand—a torn shift. She had told Serena that she enjoyed sewing, and seldom used her powers to repair clothing.

Kerry returned, the ball clutched in her small hands. “It bounced most of the way to Leader’s house!” she scolded.

“I
told
you I couldn’t throw straight,” Serena reminded her a bit absently, her gaze lifting to study the distant house that was the tallest in Sanctuary.

“Well, I’m not going to run after it again. Roxanne, can I use your sand to try to make a mirror?”

A little amused, Roxanne said, “If you mean the sand in the courtyard, yes. But is my sand so different from anyone else’s?”

The child nodded. “It’s perfect sand, and Teacher says only perfect sand makes perfect mirrors.”

“Very well, but be careful.”

Kerry rolled her eyes at the constant adult refrain, then scrambled over the low wall beside Serena and went to select the proper spot for her mirror-making. The one she settled on was several yards away from the two women.

“Teacher says,” Serena murmured, still gazing off at the Leader’s house. “Can’t she create a mirror without sand?”

“No, of course not,” Roxanne answered in surprise.

Serena sent her an oblique glance. “But your friend Adina the tailor can create cloth without threads. Calandra makes wonderful soup or sweets from nothing but air. And just yesterday I saw your neighbor Heather conjure enough water for those flowers she’s trying to keep alive.”

Roxanne frowned slightly. “Mirrors are different. We can no more conjure them than we can living creatures.”

Serena heard herself laugh, a low sound that was wry rather than amused.
She
couldn’t create a mirror, either, unless she used sand. Nor could Merlin. He had taught her it was because the energies required to create anything from nothing were especially potent, and a mirror conjured that way reflected the energies so fiercely that
the mirror always—
always
—shattered into a million pieces.

Even using sand, it was difficult, exacting work to create a mirror, and it always had to be done with the mirror facing away. Otherwise the reflection could cause a painful jolt.

As for creating living creatures, that was another ability all wizards lacked even in modern times. They could change one living creature into another—an enemy into a toad, for instance—but they could not create a living being except the same way all humans did—by having children.

“I merely wondered,” she said at last, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure Kerry was all right. She was, squatting and carefully smoothing the sand she had chosen into a small oval.

Serena sighed, turning her gaze this time toward the mountains outside the city. Without realizing what she was doing, she lifted one hand and rubbed the little heart—Merlin’s mark—at the base of her throat with a finger. What was he doing up there? Varian had a palace, Roxanne had told her; sometimes when the light was right, it was possible to get a glimpse of shining windows or pale marble, a hint of the riches the males enjoyed creating for themselves, but right now she could see nothing.

Was Merlin trying to convince Tremayne that male and female wizards could coexist? Serena didn’t know. She had thought about trying to get into his mind as she had twice before, but shied away from the attempt—partly because of the strain between them and partly because she was afraid she would find him in bed with one of the many concubines Varian was reputed to have in his palace.

That possibility hurt her even more than the knowledge that Merlin could strip her of her powers and destroy her if he wanted to, and it told her something about her own feelings. She was far less afraid of him than of losing him.

“You’ve been very quiet today,” Roxanne observed,
seemingly fixing most of her concentration on the mending in her lap. “Is it—do you miss Merlin?”

“Yes, I do,” Serena replied honestly. It was the bald truth. Whatever else she thought or felt about this place and why they were here, one truth she had finally accepted was that Merlin wasn’t to blame for any of it. And she missed him desperately; they hadn’t been apart for so long in all the years she had lived with him.

She looked at Roxanne, catching a glimpse of something she couldn’t quite read in the younger woman’s blue eyes; it was a fleeting thing, hidden when the delicate blond returned her attention to her work.

“Perhaps he’ll return soon,” she suggested colorlessly.

Serena doubted that was a pleasant possibility to her hostess, but didn’t comment, and they went on to talk casually of other things—including, when she finished it, Kerry’s rather lopsided but functional mirror.

It was very late in the night, actually not long before dawn, when Serena sat up in her bed and used a tinder-box to light the candle on her bedside table. She banked the pillows behind her and leaned back against them, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. Even inside this solid stone house, the effects of the Curtain were oppressive, and she felt exhausted. Too exhausted to sleep.

One thing she had swiftly noticed about Sanctuary was that only the powerless citizens stirred about in the early mornings; the wizards tended to sleep for several more hours, because they slept so uneasily, if at all, during the dark night. Serena had managed to be up and about every morning before Roxanne, but she had caught herself dozing several times during the warm afternoon hours and knew she was risking an utter collapse if she didn’t manage to get some decent sleep.

That thought had barely crossed her dulled mind when there was a soft knock at the door and Roxanne glided into the bedchamber, a ghostly figure in her shift.

“Are you all right, Serena?”

“Did the light disturb you? I’m sorry.” Serena strove to keep her voice relaxed.

“No, I was awake.” Roxanne came to the bed and eased down near the foot, facing her guest. Her delicate face was pale with the fatigue that gripped all wizards at night in the valley, but her eyes were clear and steady. “It’s almost impossible to get any real rest while the Curtain drains us. Isn’t it?”

Serena hugged her upraised knees and frowned. Unless her sluggish mind was playing tricks on her, she was fairly sure her friend was asking if she was a wizard. Then Roxanne spoke again, still softly, and the probability became a certainty.

“Do you think I haven’t noticed that you’re affected just as we are? That the night and the Curtain leave you weary and drained? I don’t know what things are like in Seattle, and I’m not sure how you’re able to hide your power … but you are a wizard, aren’t you, Serena?”

Resting her chin on her upraised knees, Serena tried to decide if confession was a good idea and finally gave in because she couldn’t think her way out of it. “This isn’t fair, you know,” she told the younger woman. “You seem to be able to think, and I can’t. I suppose it gets a bit easier over time?”

Roxanne drew a deep breath. “Yes, I suppose. Like anything else, one grows accustomed…. I—I couldn’t believe I was right in what I suspected. You seemed so unlike the powerless women here, far more like us, but that
could
have been because you weren’t born here. But then I noticed how tired and listless you were each morning, and I wondered….”

It was Serena’s turn to sigh. God, would morning never arrive? “Yeah, Merlin figured he’d covered all the bases, but neither of us expected the Curtain.”

“Bases?”

“Sorry.” For some reason she seemed to have baseball on the brain, and it hardly translated. “I meant, well, we thought it might be a good idea if only one of us appeared to be a wizard. When you travel as far as we have, you never know what to expect in the way of customs and beliefs, and …”

“You’re both wizards.” Roxanne’s eyes were very bright.

“Uh-huh.”

“And you’re … companions?”

Serena glanced toward the window and was relieved to find that dawn had arrived. Just a few more minutes now until the sun came up, and her mind would begin to clear. She looked back at her hostess and tried to concentrate.

What was it? Ah, yes … companions.

Frowning slightly, she said, “Merlin and I have been together for a long time, Roxanne, but we aren’t lovers—mates—if that’s what you’re asking. I went to him to learn how to control my powers. He’s been my … my teacher.”

“He never tried to hurt you?”

“Of course not. In fact, we’ve always been very good friends. Until we came here, I even thought … Never mind.”

Roxanne leaned forward a bit, her eyes painfully intent. “You thought …?”

Serena felt almost drunk, a little vague and sleepy. And tired. She was very, very tired. She leaned her head back against the rough wooden headboard of the bed, not bothering to try to hide a tiny yawn.

“Oh, I don’t know. I used to have these stupid fantasies about him. I knew I was being an idiot, but all the other men I met were always
lacking
. It wasn’t just that he was a Master wizard and they weren’t wizards at all; it was other things. He was taller than they were even when he
wasn’t
. Stronger. He walked like … like a king, I guess. His voice was … pure magic. And his eyes … He has incredible eyes, doesn’t he? So black and liquid. Sexy. And that was the laugh, you know, that was the joke on me, because as soon as I grew up and decided I could be pretty sexy myself if I put my mind to it, he just sort of… went away.”

“What do you mean?”

“He didn’t actually go. I mean, he was still teaching me, and we were still living in the same house, and sometimes things were even the way they used to be.
But there was a wall that hadn’t been there before. He said … there were boundaries we couldn’t cross, and I thought he meant between Master and Apprentice, but that wasn’t what he meant at all. So we came here, and things are even worse here with those awful male wizards and the Curtain and this walled city—”

A huge yawn suddenly cut into Serena’s growing self-pity, and she stared at Roxanne, blinking owlishly. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to crash.” She slid bonelessly down, pulling the covers up to her nose, and went out like a light.

Holding her head carefully upon her shoulders with one hand, Serena felt her way down the hall to the kitchen, where Roxanne was already sitting at the rough-hewn table. Having been awakened by one of the frequent tremors that shook Atlantis—was it her fourth or fifth earthquake since leaving Seattle?—Serena was feeling disgruntled.

“Good afternoon,” the blond offered gravely.

“You couldn’t prove it by me.” Serena sat down cautiously, and risked letting go of her head. It didn’t fall off, which was a nice surprise. Apparently exhaustion had finally caught up with her; she had slept soundly for nearly nine hours, and the aftereffect was rather like a hangover.

Roxanne pushed a heavy mug across the table to her guest. “Drink this. It will help, I promise.”

A cautious sip rewarded Serena with a cool, sweet drink that began clearing her head immediately; by the time she set the mug back onto the table a moment later, she felt reasonably human again.

“You took advantage of me,” she told her hostess severely. “Unless I dreamed it, you visited me before dawn and forced me to babble like an idiot.”

Roxanne was smiling slightly. “I merely asked you a few questions. And you didn’t babble.”

“I didn’t?”

“No. Well, toward the end you may have lost the thread of what you wanted to say, but I would hardly call the result babbling.”

Serena winced. “Yeah, right.” She cleared her throat. “I seem to remember confessing that I’m a wizard.”

“Yes. And now that your mind is clearer, I’m very curious, Serena. How do you hide your powers?”

“A little trick Merlin taught me. I hope you aren’t upset about this. It wasn’t that I wanted to deceive you, it was just that … well, it seemed a good idea at the time.”

Roxanne’s shoulders lifted and fell in something more than a shrug. “It’s just so incredible. A male and female wizard traveling together, not fighting or hurting each other. Is that common in Seattle?”

Serena hesitated, but she couldn’t lie to the younger woman any more than she had to. “No, it isn’t common—but then, Seattle is hardly a city filled with wizards. Merlin and I are pretty much trying to find our way alone. Or we were, until we came here.”

“But you
want
to be together?”

“I want to be with him,” Serena answered honestly. “And he’s risking quite a lot by being here with me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It isn’t important. All that matters is that Merlin is making an effort to tear down that wall between us. At least I think he is.”

“What will happen then?”

For the first time since coming to Atlantis, Serena considered that question. “I … I don’t really know.”

“Will you … be mates?”

“I don’t know,” Serena repeated slowly.
“Can
two wizards be mates? All the years we’ve been together … will that let us trust each other enough to get so close? Can we forget what’s going on all around us here? I just don’t know.”

Roxanne hesitated, then said, “What if Merlin returns from his visit to the mountains more like the male wizards here?”

“That won’t happen.”

“How can you be so sure? Serena, the male wizards of Atlantia are treated like gods. And you said—you told me he was at Varian’s palace. Varian is by far the worst of the Mountain Lords, concerned with nothing
except his … his gluttony. What if Merlin likes the idea of being godlike?”

Serena didn’t hesitate. “He won’t. If he had wanted to be treated like a god, he could have made it happen before now.”
And after now
. “Believe me, Roxanne.”

Solemnly the younger wizard said, “I believe
you
believe it. I just hope you’re right.”

So did Serena.

“Are you leaving the city for good?” Phaedra asked.

Serena adjusted the pack she carried and smiled pleasantly. It was late the following morning. “No, just for a while. I thought I’d explore the ruins of the Old City I’ve heard so much about.”