Kay Hooper - The Wizard Of Seattle

And even among that exceptional company, Merlin stood out as a unique being, because no wizard in all of history had achieved the level of Master at so young an age.

Which, at the moment, mattered not one iota. The Council of Elders was grim, individually and collectively, and all they saw before them was a wizard who had broken the law.

Merlin walked to his end of the table and sat down. He was wary but not unduly nervous; this wasn't the first time he had been caught in some rebellion-he and the Council seldom saw eye to eye on even minor matters-and he had every expectation of being able to defend himself. He folded his hands on the table and waited, knowing from experience that he could shape his defense only after he had heard whatever they had to say.

It wasn't long in coming.

The judge, his expression dispassionate and his voice flat, said, "Is she a woman of power?"

"She is." Hiding Serena's existence from these men for nine years was one thing, but Merlin wasn't about to lie to them now. Defiance could be explained and perhaps understood; stupidity was something else entirely. He felt as well as heard the Council's collective indrawn breath, and realized that each man had hoped he would tell them it wasn't true.

The actor, his trained voice particularly effective in the huge room, said, "You know the law. How do you justify breaking it?"

Merlin's previous offenses had been relatively minor. This time, as he studied the somber faces at the other end of the long table, he realized there was nothing minor about his latest infraction. And the power of the Council was nothing to underestimate. If the Elders felt his offense warranted it, they could destroy him. So he gave himself a moment to think before answering, and when he spoke, he kept his voice calm and reasonable.

"It's a senseless law, and I could find no reason for it. Why should I turn away from the potential Serena represents simply because she's female?"

Merlin felt a slight ripple in the room, as if every man present had shuddered inwardly. They were nervous, all of them, tense to the point of being stiff. The reaction baffled him-and yet some part of him understood .

The diplomat, his voice unusually quavery, said, "It's forbidden to teach any woman. Forbidden for any woman to even know about us. You must stop."

"Why?" He looked at each of them in turn. "Someone tell me why it's forbidden."

"It's the law," the scientist said, as if stating an incontrovertible and absolute truth in his universe.

"It's a bad law," Merlin snapped, beginning to lose his composure in the face of their inflexible conviction. He had the odd feeling that no one at the table was listening to him, that they wouldn't-or couldn't-hear any part of his defense. "We're hardly rich enough in power to be so eager to squander it," he added more quietly.

The senator's voice was grave. "You're obviously too dose to the subject to be able to see it dearly-"

"Her. See her dearly. The subject is a woman, Senator. And I see her dearly enough."

Several of the men began to speak at once, their voices high and agitated, and the judge held up a hand for silence. Gazing unwaveringly at Merlin, he spoke in a steady voice.

"We've lived by our laws for thousands of years, and in all that time no law has ever been renounced by a practicing wizard: You must not be the first. Our ancestors devised the laws because they saw an overwhelming need for us to control our powers, not be controlled by them. If we're to survive as a race, we must all respect and obey the rules we live by."

"Except this one," Merlin retorted. "It's a senseless law. Why should learning be denied to a female born with power? Why do you-all of you-see that as a threat? Why are you afraid of Serena?"

Very softly the judge said, "Why are you?"

Merlin stared down the table into a pair of eyes as black as his own. "I'm not afraid of her." Despite his effort, his voice lacked conviction.

"No? I think you are. Apprehensive at least. Can you honestly say you haven't felt yourself drawing away from her? That you haven't felt wariness, an uneasiness, a sense almost of panic as she has matured in her abilities and as a woman?"

Of all the Council, only the judge had married-only he had even lived with a woman, for that matter-so he was really the only one who could have imagined what Merlin might feel toward his Apprentice. Unfortunately, though that might have made him an ally, Merlin knew better. The judge had been married to a powerless woman, not an Apprentice wizard, and while that was frowned upon and discouraged, it was not forbidden.

"Whatever I've felt is beside the point," Merlin said at last.

"Hardly," the judge said. "It is the point. That a woman is forbidden to know our craft isn't simply a moldy old law written in ancient books; it's written in us . Stamped in the deepest part of us. And we must obey.'"

"You must stop teaching the woman," the actor said inexorably.

"It's the law," the scientist agreed.

"Be reasonable," the financier begged. "Stop this before it's too late. Don't force us to do it."

Merlin stiffened, his gaze again flying to the head of the table. There was a long silence, and then the judge sighed.

"According to the newspaper article, she's lived with you for years. How many?"

"Nine."

"Then she's barely into the training?"

Merlin hesitated, then shrugged. "I accelerated in several areas because of her innate power." Again there was that odd ripple through the room, and this time the men sat back in their chairs or moved restlessly.

"But her control is imperfect?" the judge demanded.

"Yes. But she's young and she did begin the training later than usual. I have every reason to believe she can one day achieve the level of Master."

If Merlin had hoped that his clear vote of confidence in Serena's potential might persuade the Council, he knew instantly that he'd been wrong. To a man, the faces across the table actually paled, and even the judge, normally impassive, was clearly appalled.

"It must stop," the diplomat whispered.

"There's no time to be lost," the actor said nervously.

Quietly the judge asked, "We're agreed, then?"

Without exception, the Council members nodded, looking away from Merlin. The judge nodded, as well, then stared down the table at his son and spoke heavily.

"The Council has decided. This woman must be rendered powerless. Because she is female and not yet in full control of her abilities, it will be possible for you to strip her of all levels of power."

"What?" Merlin whispered.

The judge went on as if nothing extraordinary had been said. "The process is an ancient one, not commonly known, requiring several weeks to complete. I'll give you the reference material before you return to Seattle. The woman will not be harmed by this, merely rendered powerless."

"Merely." Merlin's voice was still hardly louder than a whisper. "Merely rendered powerless."

"It's the only way," the senator told Merlin. "The law must be obeyed. We have no choice. Don't you see that?"

The judge again waved a hand for silence. "The decision of the Council is final. Your punishment for breaking the law will be determined at a later time; the severity of that penalty will depend on your obedience now. You will render this woman powerless."

"Or?" Merlin asked flatly. They were all staring at him with shuttered eyes and impassive faces, and in that moment he thought he could hate them.

"Or we will do it," the judge replied calmly. "And you'll pay a very high price for disobeying the Council."

Ironically, Merlin was the most powerful wizard in the room in terms of raw force, and all of them knew it. But the simple fact was that he was under their control-not because he wanted to be, but because he had to be. No society of powerful beings could exist without a governing body; for wizards that body was the Council, and their decisions were final.