He picked himself up, panting and shocked, one hand covering the seared place on his chest, and stared at the pair of wizards, who looked gravely back at him. After several silent moments he drew his coat closed over the burn on his chest, turned, and hurried down the slope away from them.
Serena looked on either side of her and Merlin to find two seared and smoking trees that had taken the brunt of Varian’s deflected energy stream, then looked up at Merlin. “What just happened?” she asked hesitantly.
“Positive and negative,” Merlin said softly, more to himself than Serena. “That must be it. When they’re combined, the energy stream is more powerful … much more powerful.” He looked down at her. “Serena, Varian has enough raw power that he should have been able to knock either me or you back a step or two at the very least, but he didn’t.”
“Because there are two of us?”
“No. If two male wizards had stood here and struck out at Varian, all three would have gotten a nasty jolt that probably would have broken off the attack. And if it had just been him and me fighting through the first jolt even against our instincts for self-preservation, we would have eventually drained each other, possibly to the death. But if we’d chosen to stop it at any point, neither of us would have been permanently damaged or even left physically scarred by the battle. Positive energy, Serena—no matter how many times or ways you combine it, it always cancels itself out.”
She frowned up at him. “So what happened with us? Did we knock him off his feet, and obviously hurt him, because we’re a pair? Male and female?”
“Positive and negative. And our energy streams were directed together, so they merged.”
“You didn’t know my energy had a negative charge?” Then she remembered, and answered the question herself. “Of course not, because you’ve always been so careful that our energy streams never touched during my lessons or whenever one of us was conjuring. Because of the way it always happened with males, you assumed the same danger existed for us.”
Merlin nodded. “I should have realized. It explains how male and female wizards are able to harm each other. If it had been just you and Varian here, you in a temper and him scared half out of his wits, both of you could have been badly injured.”
“But we weren’t alone. You were here. So he got burned—literally—and maybe he’ll think twice next time before he barges in on a lady’s bath.”
With a slight smile Merlin said, “And maybe he’ll think about what he’s doing here if he knows the outside world is quite a bit different.”
Serena looked up at him gravely. “That’s why you taunted him? I wondered.”
“I shouldn’t have done it,” he admitted wryly. “I’m not even sure why I did, except … it seemed right, somehow. I seemed to know what I should say to him.”
“As if … you’d already said it?”
Merlin frowned a little. “A sense of déjà vu? Yes, as a matter of fact, that was what I felt.”
Had he felt that way because what he’d said to Varian was what he was supposed to say? Because their confrontation, like the destruction of this place, had—to Merlin and Serena, anyway—already happened a long time ago?
It had occurred to Serena to wonder if she and Merlin would in some way contribute to the destruction of Atlantis, an unnerving possibility she had promptly put out of her mind. Now it returned, and she had to wonder. Had it been their fate to be a part of the process that destroyed Atlantis? They couldn’t be responsible for everything that happened here, Serena knew, because this had been a dying place long before they arrived. But were they perhaps the catalysts, their presence and actions sparking what would become the final upheaval?
Time travel was a tricky thing, its laws elusive and largely theoretical, so how could they know? Perhaps their being here now was a piece of the puzzle, a part of the reason it all happened as it had.
She didn’t ask Merlin, because she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to hear his answer; sometimes ignorance was indeed a blessed thing. And she didn’t ask him something else, though not for the same reason. She didn’t ask him why he’d told Varian that she was his mate. Instead she merely suggested that they have breakfast, take another look at the ruins of the Old City, and then head back toward Sanctuary so they could check on the progress of Roxanne and Tremayne.
That was, after all, their best chance at changing the future, which was why they were here.
“Nearly twenty years ago Varian wasn’t so careful,” Roxanne said with forced composure. “He hadn’t yet developed the habit of taking young powerless women up to his palace and keeping them there so he could control his offspring.”
Tremayne watched her across the tiny fire. With their late start in leaving Sanctuary, they had gotten less than halfway across the valley before night and the Curtain fell, so they had made camp in the rarest. Tremayne had waited until then to ask about her parentage, because he thought she’d be more willing to talk to him with darkness at their backs and the Curtain draining her resistance.
“So Varian … encountered your mother in the village?” he said, keeping his voice neutral.
“No, near the Old City, where she’d gone to pick berries. She didn’t fight him, even though she didn’t like him at all and was more than a little bit afraid of him. It wouldn’t have done her much good to fight, and in any case, she was like all the village girls: simple and submissive. She just did as he commanded. He told her he’d come back for her later and take her up to his palace, but he didn’t. When she realized she was going to bear his child, she had to leave the village, because she knew her father would beat her; the last thing he needed was another mouth to feed. So she went to Sanctuary.”
“The city must have been new then.”
“It was. My mother was welcomed, and I was born there. She knew I was born with power, of course, and she thought I should be raised by wizards. So I was.” Roxanne was still astonished that she was telling him all this, astonished she was talking to him at all; she didn’t understand herself, and tried to blame the Curtain for her singular willingness to confide in him, even though she knew that wasn’t it.
The frightening truth was, something about this man drew her out of herself and urged her to trust him, and she seemed helpless to fight it.
“She left you there?” His voice was still carefully dispassionate.
“She wasn’t comfortable in the city. It was too new, too strange and different for her. She returned to the village, took the beating her father gave her, and went on with her life.”
After a moment Tremayne said, “Would it surprise you to learn that there are places in this world where women are valued and treated well by their men?”
Knowing that her bitterness had escaped her, Roxanne gazed across the fire at him and wondered what she had heard in his deep voice. Pain? Whatever it was, it unnerved her. “It’s getting late,” she said, and eased down on her pallet of blankets, wrapping one around her and making sure her walking stick was near—for all the good it would do if they were to be attacked in the night by village men. But she doubted that would happen. Tremayne had been right; his presence made the night safer for her, since it was unlikely that village men would do anything to anger a male wizard.
“Good night, Roxanne. Sleep well.”
She didn’t bother to remind him that sleeping well was impossible with the Curtain pressing down on them. Instead she half closed her eyes and watched him through her lashes as he sat silently on his side of the fire, until weariness finally sent her into a fitful sleep.
It was just after dawn when she woke, but she didn’t move right away. The fire was still burning, and Tremayne was sleeping on a pallet like hers with his coat wrapped around him. His thin face was innocent, with no sign whatsoever of the duplicity, selfishness, or cruelty she had for so long associated with male wizards, and Roxanne felt very odd as she looked at him.
By the time the sun rose and chased away the Curtain, Tremayne was stirring, and sh
e waited until he sat up before she followed suit.
They didn’t talk very much, although he made several attempts at conversation. Roxanne was deeply troubled by the strange feelings he roused in her, and she was also thinking about what she intended to do when she reached the village; the result was confusion and uncertainty on both fronts. She didn’t object when he conjured a morning meal for them, and excused herself some time later in order to retreat to a nearby stream—one of the few still unspoiled—and perform her morning ablutions.
Since the sun was up, the almost automatic dread of the night was gone, and Roxanne wasn’t nervous or wary. After she’d splashed her face, she conjured a bit of material to use for a towel, and was standing there patting her face dry when a heavy body suddenly burst through the undergrowth on the other side of the narrow stream. To her utter shock she found herself face-to-face with her father for the first time in her life.
She recognized Varian only because he had once been pointed out to her by an older female wizard when they had seen him crossing the road some distance from Sanctuary. Roxanne had been able to hide her distress then, but now she knew her mouth was open and her face was undoubtedly ghost white.
“God’s blood, another whore!” he snapped, holding his coat about him with one hand as if chilled, even though his eyes were as hot as burning coals.
In that first seemingly eternal moment, as his crude insult stabbed her, Roxanne looked at her father and realized with certainty that she was no part of him. That he was her sire was nothing more than an accident of chance and circumstance; he’d had no part in raising her, had no knowledge of her other than his recognition that she was a woman of power. She was no more like him than she was like her guileless, pliable mother.
It was the most incredible relief.
“I can’t escape you whores,” he snarled, glaring at her.
“Stay out of the valley.” Roxanne was surprised at how cool her voice was.
He half lifted his free hand, fisted as if he wanted to strike her, but even before Roxanne could brace herself, he jerked the hand back to his side. “Whore!”
She wondered if he had any idea that the insult lost much of its impact with every repetition. “I’m not standing in your way,” she pointed out. “In fact, I’d just as soon not be anywhere around you.” She would have gone on, but Tremayne spoke as he joined her by the stream.
“I think that’s clear enough, Varian. The lady would like you to leave.”
Varian’s mouth fell open. “You’re with her? She’s the reason you couldn’t stay away from the city?”
Tremayne nodded calmly. “She’s the reason. By the way, Varian, I won’t be returning to the mountain. Thank you very much for your hospitality—and I’ll be sure to give my father your regards when I reach home.”
Varian didn’t seem to hear him. “It isn’t possible. By all the gods, it isn’t possible! No whore of Atlantia would allow one of us near her….”
It was rather fascinating, Tremayne thought, to see his usually arrogant and cocksure kinsman rattled, but he had no intention of prolonging the encounter, because he didn’t want to upset Roxanne. She seemed calm, but since this was undoubtedly the first time she’d actually met her father, it had to be difficult for her.
“Varian, even you can’t quarrel with the evidence of your own eyes.”
They saw his face go still, his eyes narrow as if at a memory, and the hand clutching his coat tightened. “She’ll turn on you, Tremayne,” he warned hoarsely. “She’ll turn her powers on you sooner or later.”
“Why would she? I would never do anything to hurt her,” Tremayne responded. “Go back to your mountain, Varian, and live your life just as you wish. My life is my own concern.”
Varian seemed ready to say something, but finally uttered only a strangled sound of frustration and stalked past them. Roxanne and Tremayne both turned as the older wizard passed, instinctively avoiding having their backs to him. When he was out of sight and hearing, she looked up at Tremayne.
“You didn’t tell him who I was,” she said gravely.
“No.” Tremayne hesitated, then added, “I can’t tell how you feel about it, but I know one thing for certain, Roxanne—it doesn’t matter who your father is, because who and what you are has nothing to do with him. It doesn’t matter any more than it matters that almost everyone around you believes you and I have to hate and fear each other. All that matters is that you make up your own mind—about who you want to be, and about me. Please. That’s all I ask.”
She nodded slightly, and said, “He’s … really not very alarming, is he?”
Tremayne smiled. “Well, in terms of power he’s formidable, but he often seems rather like a bully trying to get his way. Is that what you mean?”
Roxanne nodded again, this time more definitely, then straightened her shoulders. “It was a bit like coming face-to-face with the monster in your dreams and discovering it was really only shadows on a wall. Nothing. I’m glad I met him. I’m not afraid of him anymore.”
“Good,” Tremayne said easily. He hadn’t planned on any of what had occurred during this hike, but the results more than satisfied him. “Now, if you’re ready, we can continue on across the valley.”
“I’m ready,” Roxanne said.
Kerry hadn’t been close enough to hear what went on when the angry male wizard talked to Roxanne and Tremayne, but when they continued, she followed them a bit closer than she had the day before. Chloe was no longer in her backpack; she held the doll tightly as she walked.
Last night hadn’t been quite as fun as Kerry had expected. The Curtain felt even worse out here, and there were sounds she didn’t know or like. She had wanted to join Tremayne and Roxanne at their camp when it got dark, but it had gradually occurred to her that maybe they would be awfully angry at her, and she hadn’t been able to summon the nerve to approach them.
Now, following at a safe distance, she chewed on her bottom lip and wished they’d get wherever they were going. If they still hadn’t turned back to Sanctuary by tonight, she thought she might be brave enough then to catch up to them—because she didn’t think she was brave enough to spend another night alone.
It was midafternoon when Merlin and Serena reached the gates of Sanctuary and braved the two Sentinels, Phaedra and Nola, who stared at Serena in astonishment.
“Yes, I’m a wizard,” Serena said cheerfully, deciding to cut to the chase. “I hid my powers before because Merlin and I didn’t know what the customs were like here. Does either of you have a problem with that?”
“Serena,” Merlin murmured.
“Well, everybody seems to think they have a stake in our relationship, and it’s beginning to annoy me.”
“You two travel together?” Phaedra demanded in a shocked tone.
“If I had a nickel,” Serena said with a sigh.
“What?”
“Never mind. Yes, we travel together. Look, you’ve already marked Merlin, and Roxanne was granted permission to admit him to her house, so—”
“Roxanne left Sanctuary yesterday,” Phaedra said flatly.
“With the wizard Tremayne,” Nola added.
“No, she didn’t leave with him,” Phaedra corrected scrupulously. “He was approaching Sanctuary when she left, and turned to accompany her.”
Serena looked at Merlin. “That sounds hopeful.”
“I’d say so.”
They left the two uneasy Sentinels at the gate and continued into the city, where the stares they received ranged from covert to open-mouthed. The citizens of Sanctuary had barely grown accustomed to seeing male-female pairs of any kind; a pair consisting of a male and female wizard was a guaranteed traffic stopper, especially since they were the first to walk the streets of Sanctuary. An earthquake distracted attention from them momentarily, but since the city was left standing (Serena doubted a lesser tragedy than full destruction of Sanctuary would have succeeded as a permanent distraction), they were soon the center of attention
once again.
“I say we take refuge in Roxanne’s house, at least until you have to leave the city,” Serena said. “She told me to make myself at home, and nobody here ever locks their doors, so we shouldn’t have a problem.”
“I agree.” Merlin glanced around them as they walked, and added, “Do you realize we’ve been here two weeks?”
“It feels more like a lifetime.” Serena led the way down the appropriate side street to Roxanne’s house, and they found the front door unlocked, as expected. The interior was quiet and cool, and when the door was shut behind them, the sense of privacy was so welcome, it was almost overwhelming.
Serena unfastened her cloak and threw it over a chair, and watched as Merlin shrugged out of his coat. “When did you conjure up your staff? When we reached the city?”
He nodded, removing the staff from his belt and laying it gently on top of his coat. “Since Phaedra specifically asked me about it the first time we entered the city, I decided I’d better keep it with me whenever I’m in or near Sanctuary. I wouldn’t do it if I felt I had a choice, though; I think the Curtain is distorting the crystal a bit.”
“Yeah, Roxanne told me it warps glass and distorts mirrors after a while, so a crystal would be vulnerable. But it’d take years to mar a crystal, wouldn’t it?”
“Probably. I just noticed a very slight change in mine, but since I don’t use it for prophesy, I’m not going to worry very much about it.”
Serena smiled. “You know, if you did use it for prophesy, you might be able to tell us how all this is going to turn out.”
“That would be cheating.”
She couldn’t help laughing, and Merlin smiled back at the slight absurdity of his decision not to look into the future. “You know what I mean. I’ve explained to you my feelings about using prophesy as a crutch.”