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.

Could such things be the norm in the place where they came from, that Seattle? Were male wizards there capable of kindness, perhaps even of genuine caring?

Roxanne didn't know, couldn't know, but the possibility made a pang of wistfulness dart through her- gone as quickly as it had appeared. Even if there were places outside Atlantia where male wizards weren't treacherous and brutal, it could make no difference to Roxanne, because she was trapped here and because she was a wizard.

Unbidden, she remembered her recent encounter with another stranger. He had come to the city- unusual though not unheard of behavior for a male wizard. A young man, he had obeyed the laws without protest and had seemed content to wander about, his occasional questions polite and unthreatening. Handsome, as most of the male wizards were, he had smiled often and once had even laughed out loud…

With an effort Roxanne closed the door on those thoughts. It was, after all, pointless to think of such things. Perhaps she had. felt something unexpected, even extraordinary, when she had looked up into his clear gray eyes, but it hardly mattered. They were both wizards.

Besides that, Roxanne doubted she would ever be able to feel anything except fear and cold sickness if any man, wizard or powerless, came near her. Her memories of what had happened to her were mercifully clouded, but they haunted her nonetheless. They always would, she knew Merlin had healed her injuries so well, she bore not a single scar to remind her of the violence of that night; still, she could hardly forget.

In fact, she could be bearing a lasting reminder of the violence done to her. It had occurred to her last night, and though Serena had urged her to grieve and get angry, Roxanne's tears had come from the realization that her rapists' seed might well have taken root in her womb.

If that had indeed happened, Roxanne would be bound by the laws of Sanctuary to bear the child, though she wouldn't be required to rear it herself. Oh, everyone would be sincerely compassionate about what she had suffered, but she would not be allowed to harm herself or the unborn child. In Sanctuary the scarcity of children made abortion punishable by death.

Roxanne's hand crept to her lower belly, and she prayed to every god she didn't believe in to spare her the torment of giving life to the child of a brutal rapist. And even as she prayed, her eyes lifted to scan the mountains ringing the valley, probing for the gleam of palace windows half hidden among trees.