The Wizard of Seattle (20 page)

After she’d glanced past Serena to make sure Merlin had gone, Roxanne said slowly, “You two are certainly … different.”

“In what way?”

“Sometimes you seem very comfortable together, and other times it’s almost as if you’re strangers. You seem to view each other as equals, and yet you appear willing to follow his lead. I can see now you aren’t his concubine, but the way you look at him and the way he
looks at you makes it obvious there
is
something between you.”

“You’re very observant,” was all Serena could think to say. The way Merlin looked at her?

Roxanne gazed at her steadily, the wide blue eyes puzzled. “You say you’re his companion?”

Serena felt uneasy, remembering what Merlin had said. “Yes, but maybe you’d better tell me what that word means to you.”

“What it means? It means a comrade, a friend—”

“That’s it,” Serena said, relieved.

“—or a mate,” Roxanne finished. “But you couldn’t be his mate, because male wizards don’t have mates.”

“Well, I’m not his mate, but why do you say male wizards don’t have them? If they have concubines …”

Roxanne frowned. “That’s different. The males want sons, of course, and they want their pleasure, so they have concubines. But never mates. All they have to give to any female is their seed. Even if they possessed hearts, they could never give them to a woman, not even a powerless woman.”

“But a powerless woman couldn’t hurt them, could she?”

“Not the way a wizard could—although I suppose she could cut his throat if he trusted her enough to sleep in her bed.” The idea seemed an interesting one to Roxanne, her eyes going distant and thoughtful as she considered it silently.

“They don’t ever do that? Sleep together in bed?”

With a shrug Roxanne said, “I could hardly know for sure, but according to powerless women who were once concubines, the males always leave the bed once their needs have been satisfied.”

“Oh.” Trying not to feel appalled—this was
not
her time or her society, Merlin had been right to remind her of that—Serena probed for more information. “You said the male wizards kept concubines partly because they wanted sons; do the mothers raise their children?”

“No, never. Their babes are taken from them immediately after birth. The sons are suckled by older powerless
women, and raised by lesser male wizards in a separate house near their fathers’ palaces.”

Serena shook her head in disbelief. “Those poor women lose their children? God, that’s not just cruel—it’s inhuman.”

Roxanne seemed a bit puzzled by Serena’s words, but she merely shrugged. “The males fear their sons’ being influenced by any female, so they take care to avoid it.”

Realizing only then what she was hearing, Serena frowned. “Wait a minute. Sons. What about the daughters?”

“They are killed at birth,” Roxanne replied matter-of-factly.

“What? Just automatically slaughtered because they’re female?”

“Yes.”

Her thoughts whirling and nausea churning in her stomach, Serena couldn’t bring herself to say a single word. It was one thing to tell herself this was not her society, but the knowledge that any society could practice or condone the practice of murdering innocent newborns deemed the “wrong” sex was simply horrifying. And that
wizards
could commit such a dreadful act tore at Serena.

Unaware of the blow she had dealt, Roxanne returned to her original point. “You and Merlin are something out of the ordinary. Aside from your oddity as a pair, he doesn’t really behave—so far, at least—like any of the male wizards I’ve encountered. And you don’t act like a powerless woman.”

Serena forced herself to respond casually. “How do the powerless women here act?”

“Subservient.”

Startled, Serena frowned. “What, all of them?”

“Outside the walls of Sanctuary, yes. In the city, of course, things are different; the powerless women are never threatened or abused, and they seem content—if somewhat simple and pliable. But out here I suppose they’ve learned that a bowed head is less likely to anger their men.”

Serena cleared her throat. “We encountered a few village
men when we first arrived, and I can see how the women might have a great deal to fear. The men looked rather brutal, even though one of them was smiling.”

“A powerless woman’s lot is no better than a wizard’s here in Atlantia,” Roxanne said broodingly. “If she escapes being taken into the mountains by one of the male wizards, she is still liable to endure a hard and wretched life under the domination of some man who is as likely to knock her unconscious as he is to throw her down and take his pleasure.”

Serena shivered.

Noting the reaction, Roxanne reassured her. “As long as you’re paired with a male wizard, you have little to fear from the village men, during the day or night. Very few of them would dare touch you even if they caught you out alone. They couldn’t gain any power from you, and fear of punishment would be stronger than any desire for brief pleasure. Male wizards have been known to destroy powerless men for such an offense.”

“That’s all very well, but how would the men know I was Merlin’s … companion, if they found me when he wasn’t around?”

“He hasn’t marked you?” Roxanne asked in surprise.

“No. That is, I don’t think so. Marked me how?”

Roxanne studied Serena carefully, then shook her head. “I guess I assumed you were marked under your clothes, on a shoulder or your back; some wizards do it that way, although you’re far safer if the mark is instantly visible—”

“Roxanne. What kind of mark?”

“His
mark. Merlin’s. Every male wizard chooses how he’ll mark his women, and all who belong to him wear the same sign.”

“Sign? You mean a symbol of some kind?”

“Yes. For instance, some of the marks I’ve seen have been in the shape of animals, letters, or birds. One wizard even marks his women with a constellation—tiny stars.”

“Which constellation?”

“Orion, I think. Why?”

“Just curious.” Serena sighed. “So how will I wear this mark? I mean, is it stamped into my skin?”

“Yes, I suppose. The marks can’t be washed off, I know that. They’re created in different colors, and worn in different places. Most are here.” Roxanne touched the base of her own throat, just below the hollow. “Instantly visible.”

Branded for all the world to see
. Sighing again, Serena said, “I think I’ll wait until we reach the city before I talk to Merlin about these marks. I’d rather not wear a brand until I absolutely have to. Unless … will not being marked there, in Sanctuary, matter?”

Roxanne was gazing at her rather curiously, but shook her head in answer. “No. You won’t be harmed by anyone in the city. Wizards and powerless women alike are treated with respect.”

“That reminds me…. When Merlin and I encountered those village men, they knew right away that I was powerless. Was it only because I was traveling with a male wizard, or does some physical sign distinguish a wizard from a powerless woman?”

“Merlin’s being a wizard told them, of course, but they probably checked your hands to make sure.”

“My hands?” Serena lifted her hands and looked down at them, puzzled.

Roxanne held her hands out near Serena’s. “Outwardly a powerless woman looks just like a wizard, except for this. All women of power are born this way in Atlantia, and have been for centuries. It isn’t so in Seattle?”

“No, it isn’t.” Serena hadn’t notice anything odd until then, probably because the difference wasn’t obvious until all ten fingers were held stretched out. But there was a deviation from the norm. On each hand Roxanne’s ring finger was slightly longer than her middle finger.

Before Serena could say anything else, Roxanne murmured, “He’s returning,” and let her hands fall to her lap. Her face closed down, eyes shuttered.

“Serena?”

She got up and went to meet Merlin by the stream. “No better place to cross?” she asked abstractedly.

“No. What’s wrong?”

“Atlantis gets weirder by the minute. We were wondering why those village men assumed I was powerless? Take a look at Roxanne’s hands when you get a chance. She says all the female wizards have been born that way for centuries.”

“I have already noticed her hands,” Merlin told her, “but I assumed it was an individual trait.”

“No, just inherent to female wizards here. She said it was the only
outward
difference between wizards and powerless women. God knows what the internal differences are.”

Merlin looked at her steadily and, keeping his voice low, said, “Something else has disturbed you.”

Part of Serena didn’t want to tell him, but a stronger part did. She watched his face carefully when she spoke. “According to Roxanne, one of the reasons the male wizards keep concubines is because they want sons. They murder their female children at birth.”

He didn’t look surprised, but rather as if she confirmed something he had known or guessed. “I see.”

“It’s horrible.”

“Of course it’s horrible.” His voice was level. “It’s also unnatural, and we have to find out what caused them to adopt such a practice. Another question to be answered, Serena.”

She tried to remain calm, but it wasn’t easy. “I’m having a hard time looking at it as just another question we have to find the answer to. If even half of what Roxanne’s told us about the male wizards is true, they’re monstrous—inhuman. That isn’t the way wizards are supposed to be.” The final sentence was almost whispered.

Merlin hesitated, wanting to assure her that whatever wizards in this time were like, those of their time weren’t monsters—but he wasn’t sure that was true. Were his father and the other Elders any less monstrous since they were willing to destroy any woman of power, and avoided offspring of their own simply to avert potential
problems? And would he himself have not survived infancy if he had been born female?

He reached out slowly, resting his hands on her shoulders and struggling inwardly between two equally strong but conflicting urges. He wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, to banish the look of confusion and fear from her vivid eyes. And he wanted to push her away, to turn his back and close her out in order to protect himself.

The fight went on, but he was able to speak in a fairly even voice despite it.

“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.