Kay Hooper - The Wizard Of Seattle

Might have been, but wasn't.

Ever since he had talked with his father, Merlin had been struggling to cope with the painful knowledge that the older wizard had not trusted his wife of twenty years, despite her fidelity, trust, and devotion, and that she might have killed herself because of it. That, more than anything else, revealed to Merlin just how tragic and unnatural was the wizards' reflexive wariness and mistrust of women.

When Serena had walked into the study, he had looked at her and had felt the disturbing jumble of emotions that had become painfully familiar these days-and his father's words had echoed inside his head. There is no place in your life for a woman of power… It's not in me to trust a woman, just like it isn't in you… You feel it's true even if you don't think it is, and that kind of conflict will tear you apart .

His deepest instincts were at war with his intellect, and Serena, innocent and unsuspecting, was in the middle of that battle. If there was something in Atlantis that would help resolve his conflict, Merlin intended to find it, and he wanted Serena to be with him when he did. In the end his decision to take her with him was just that simple.

As it turned out, both Serena and Merlin had to go to their offices early on Monday to arrange to take the remainder of the week off, so they decided at breakfast to begin getting ready for their forthcoming trip in the early afternoon.

Serena met Jane for lunch, mostly because she knew her friend was sincerely worried about her. Their broken shopping date on Saturday, as well as Serena's recent preoccupation, had convinced the lively brunet that Kane's column had caused all kinds of problems, and it required Serena's best efforts to convince her otherwise.

After soothing her friend, she returned home to find the house deserted. Rachel had gone, and Merlin apparently hadn't gotten home yet. Serena changed into jeans and then, on impulse, went downstairs to his study. The door wasn't barred, which was something of a relief for more reasons than one.

What she wanted were a few answers. She didn't know if she could find anything Merlin wanted to keep from her, but she had to try because she had the uneasy feeling that what he was doing-his apparent dispute with the Council of Elders and his flouting of their authority in his decision to travel through time without permission-was somehow her fault.

Besides that, there was simply too much curiosity in her nature to allow a puzzle to continue unchallenged.

For the first time, Serena entered Merlin's study with her mind and senses deliberately wide open-and as soon as she crossed the threshold, she felt breathless. She realized that her own strong mental shields had always blocked whatever energies were contained in the ancient writings-but she felt them now.

Not a negative force, the sense she had was of sheer power, muted and dormant. She leaned back against the doorjamb and half closed her eyes, cautiously probing. And at the extreme edge of her awareness, she almost heard soft whisperings of a hundred, a thousand voices.

The languages were varied, but all were obscure and contained Latin phrases and strange words that belonged to no language mankind had ever known. Or had ever heard, even when it had been spoken.

Her veiled gaze traveled slowly around the room, sliding over books and scrolls, then stopped. She pushed herself away from the door and walked to the shelves between two windows. A particular book, oversize and so old that the leather had been worn almost to nothing, seemed to pull at her. She had never noticed this book before. It wasn't the one that had lain open on his desk; that book was not in the room.

Damn him-he knew her too well.

She got the other book down, the one that seemed to tug at her senses. Handling it carefully, she carried it to Merlin's desk; then holding it balanced on its spine, she allowed the book to open where it would.

A glance showed Serena that the language was totally alien to her, and she wasted no time in trying to decipher the unfamiliar symbols. But there was a full-page illustration on the righthand side, a stark, black-and-white drawing. It was faded by time so that little of it was even identifiable to her. She thought it represented a terrible conflict; bright jagged lines like lightning bolts seemed to be emanating from some kind of structure, and framed by what looked like a lighted window, two human figures struggled.

Serena touched the drawing and almost instantly drew her fingers back. She felt unsettled, strangely anxious and almost afraid. It was a primitive fear, like something rustling in a dark corner of her mind.

Bad . The simple word of a child, yet it encompassed what Serena felt about the drawing.

Unwilling to look through the rest of the book, she closed it and returned it to the shelf. That was when she saw the box. It lay on a higher shelf and was built of some glossy dark wood, every inch of which was carved with strange symbols. She'd never seen it before, even though she had been in this room often over the years.

Had she missed it until now because her senses had never been open? Was the strange box one of the things in a wizard's world that had no substance until it was seen? She lifted it down; it was about two feet long, eight inches wide, and eight inches deep. It was heavy, and she could see no seam, no hinge or lid of any kind.

She carried it to the desk and set it down, then studied the box intently. The symbols were vaguely familiar to her, and she thought she might have seen them somewhere else, in a different combination, perhaps in one of Merlin's spellbooks. She felt along the edges of the box very carefully with just the tips of her fingers, but could still distinguish no seam or opening of any kind.

"Damn," she muttered.

"Ever heard of Pandora's box?"

With a guilty start she looked up to find Merlin leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't look angry-but then, she hadn't had much luck in interpreting his expressions lately, so she couldn't be sure.

Sighing, she said, "Yes, I've heard of it. Sorry, I didn't mean to snoop. Well, I did, actually, but I shouldn't have, so I'm sorry."

Merlin inclined his head slightly, as if accepting the apology, but his eyes were speculative. "Open the box, Serena."

She started to say she could see no way to open it, but then she realized. If there was no apparent seam, no hinges or handles or obvious lock, then clearly it was meant to be opened by less-conventional means.

This was not something Serena had been taught to do. And since she hadn't been able to open the study door when Merlin had barred it, she wasn't at all sure she would have much luck with the sealed box. But given his permission and urged on by her own curiosity, she gave it her best shot.

Without actually touching the wood, she glided her fingers along the edges very slowly, allowing her senses to probe. She could feel something inside the box, something that radiated the warmth of power, and her fascination grew. She focused her concentration even more, using her energies to delicately explore the box. Searching… searching…

The lid of the box silently lifted.

Serena caught her breath, staring. Inside, cradled on a bed of black silk, lay the most curious-looking thing she had ever seen in her life. It was a staff about twenty inches long and made of carved wood that was heavily inlaid with gold and crusted with numerous jewels. At one end, obviously the top, was a large round crystal, polished to a flawless finish and about the size of a man's fist. Below the crystal, a narrow band of gold encircled the staff, and below that were diamond-shaped bits of inlaid gold, each set with a marquise diamond of several karats.