Kay Hooper - The Wizard Of Seattle

Surely she would…

An early-morning rain tapped on the roof tiles as Antonia stood gazing out the window of her study. It was possible to see almost all of Sanctuary from here, a sight she enjoyed. She preferred this view to the others her house offered, and because of that she left the window without glass. Since the Curtain invariably warped glass, it was simpler to do without than to have to replace her windowpanes every morning.

"Excuse me, Leader."

Antonia turned to find one of her best-but least imaginative-agents in the doorway awaiting permission to enter. "Come in, Dorcas. You have a report today?"

Dorcas went to stand near the desk in the center of the room. "Yes, Leader. The woman called Serena is most often in the company of Roxanne. She no longer asks so many questions as she did the first day or two, but she continues to explore the city and watch our activities intently."

"Anything more suspicious?"

"No… but she does not behave like a powerless woman-or like a concubine, though she bears the mark of the wizard of Seattle, the one called Merlin."

"Perhaps the powerless women of Seattle behave differently. After all, we've long known that the Curtain has affected powerless women here, making them docile and simple-minded. If Seattle has no Curtain, then the women there might well be drastically unlike ours."

"Perhaps."

"What does Roxanne say?"

"She says the pair is unusual, nothing more. There may be a question of loyalty."

Antonia looked slightly surprised. "Roxanne's loyalty?"

"She knows more than she is willing to say, Leader."

"Is that a proven fact?"

Dorcas stiffened. "My impression, Leader."

"As good as a proven fact then."

Pleased, Dorcas relaxed. "Thank you, Leader."

Antonia turned to gaze out of the window once more, but continued to speak to her agent. "I would like to know more of this Seattle, but I am not yet ready to summon the woman Serena. Keep her under observation as long as she's within the city walls, but don't make it obvious."

"Yes, Leader."

"What of the wizard Merlin?"

"I spoke to the Healer who examined Roxanne. If Roxanne described her injuries accurately, then Merlin's skill as a Healer is far beyond our abilities."

That brought Antonia around to face her agent, her strange, pale eyes brilliant. "Is the Healer certain of this?"

"Yes, Leader. She reports that she would be unable to duplicate his success."

"What else?" Antonia demanded sharply.

"Very little, I'm afraid, Leader. He has spent the last several days in Varian's palace, so we have been unable to observe him. He was unthreatening enough the short time he spent in Sanctuary."

After a moment Antonia turned back to the window. Her voice was calm again when she said, "When he returns to the city, watch him. And report to me immediately."

Dorcas knew a dismissal when she heard one. "Yes, Leader."

Alone again, Antonia gazed down upon the city she had created. Merlin … Was he the one she had waited for so long, the one who would show her the way to triumph?

Some time later she left the window and went into the adjoining room, which was her bedchamber. There was a mirror hanging on the wall by the door, which Antonia automatically cleared of the flaws left by the Curtain during the previous night. When the polished oval was unblemished again, she studied her reflection, turning her head this way and that.

Flawless. She might easily be mistaken for a woman half her age, no more than twenty or so. Her red hair was still bright and rich in color, her skin creamy, her pale blue eyes vivid. And her figure was excellent, slender but seductive.

Satisfied, Antonia crossed the room and sat down at a small table. She removed the black cloth draping her crystal, softly recited the appropriate spell, and gazed fixedly into the bright sphere as colors began to swirl…

"I'm trained to please, My Lord," the girl cooed, her hand reaching for him.

Merlin caught her wrist and gently forced her grasping fingers away from the front of his trousers. She was very young and wore only one of the thin white shifts Varian permitted his concubines to wear. But her body was ripe, and the rounded belly proclaimed her to be several months with child.

Not that Merlin was surprised by that; Varian didn't permit any of his women to seek out other males unless they were first impregnated by him.

He looked down at her, searching her eyes for signs of thoughts or emotions. The moonlight was strong enough up here for him to see her dearly. But, just as he had found in every other powerless woman Varian had claimed for a concubine, there was nothing in this one's pale blue eyes. Nothing . They were as shiny and lifeless as those of a porcelain doll. She stood there, her wrist held in his grasp, a vacuous little smile curving her lips as she waited for him to release her… or take her… or kill her.

He didn't think it would matter to her.

Quietly he said, "No, thank you-Lasca, isn't it?"

"Yes, My Lord. Have I displeased you?" Her voice was soft and sweet. She was still smiling.

"No, Lasca. I'm simply not in the mood for… company tonight." He released her wrist.

As the girl wandered away, Tremayne came out onto the terrace and joined Merlin. "Lasca had a go at you?" he murmured.

Merlin nodded and leaned his elbows on the balustrade as he gazed down at the valley. The Curtain lay heavily below, shimmering from time to time with pulses of energy. He glanced at Tremayne. "Tell me, are all the powerless women here like Lasca? So… simple?"

"You mean so empty?" Tremayne gazed out over the valley. "To varying degrees, yes. The innocent ones, the ones my kinsmen and the other wizards haven't yet seduced, don't wander around looking for someone to bed them, they're merely docile and vacant. But these… well, you've seen how they've behaved these last few days-and nights."

"Yes." Merlin had lost count of the women-some hardly more than children-he had politely refused. And he'd had to bar the door of his bedchamber after awakening the first night to find a girl named Gaea naked in his bed, her eyes and smile as empty as Lasca's had just been. There was something eerie and not a little horrifying about their vacant sexuality.

They made Merlin think of succubi, lascivious female spirits or demons believed by some to seduce men into lustful intercourse during their sleep. Except that succubi were supposedly so hideous, they had to do their seducing while the object of their affections lay sleeping deeply, while the women here were actually quite lovely.

He knew that succubi had more or less been created to explain away the nocturnal emissions most men and adolescent boys experienced, while incubi, the equivalent male demons, had been blamed for the pregnancies of terrified young women who swore they hadn't had carnal knowledge of anyone and so must have been possessed in their sleep by lustful demons. But knowing the source of the tales didn't seem to make a difference. In fact, he couldn't help remembering that his own namesake, the great magician and Master wizard Merlin, had supposedly been the offspring of an incubus and a nun.

Merlin startled himself by laughing, which earned him a quick and disconcerted look from Tremayne. Clearing his throat, he said, "Sorry. My mind wandered into a rather ridiculous place. This emptiness of the powerless woman-where do you place the blame for it?"

"It's the Curtain I believe. The men grew ugly and aggressive while their women grew servile and witless."

Merlin glanced at the younger wizard again. They hadn't had much of an opportunity to talk during the past few days, and he took advantage of their being alone on the terrace. "When you look at the rest of what's happened here, the segregation of this society, where do you place the blame?"