It was several hours past midnight when Varian felt himself able to sleep. Mara was sprawled across the bed, and he tossed a sheet over her limp body before striding naked from her room and down the hall to his own.

He never slept with a bitch in the same room.

Just before he drifted off to sleep, Varian found his thoughts turning again to the stranger, Merlin, and they made him uneasy, just the way thoughts of his own kinsman, Tremayne, made him uneasy. Neither of them belonged here. But he had nothing to fear from either of them, Varian assured himself.

After all, he was the most powerful wizard of Atlantia.

Serena tossed the ball to Kerry and winced when it went wide of the mark. "Sorry, kid. I never was much of a pitcher," she called.

Roxanne chuckled as the little girl chased after the ball. "She could bring it back by crooking her finger, but she seldom remembers that."

"Wizards are odd," Serena agreed, not without a touch of irony.

"Um. What's a pitcher?"

For a second Serena went blank, but then she remembered-and realized another of her words hadn't translated. Dammit, she couldn't seem to remember to watch what she said!

"It's someone who throws a ball in a game," she replied casually. "I've seen it played it Seattle."

Roxanne nodded solemnly. She had regained all her strength in the days since her attack, and seemed hardly affected by what had happened to her; Merlin had done an excellent job. "It sounds like your Seattle would be a nice place to live."

"Yes. It is." Serena was sitting on a low wall that surrounded a small courtyard between Roxanne's house and the one next to hers, while the younger wizard sat on her front step, repairing-by hand-a torn shift. She had told Serena that she enjoyed sewing, and seldom used her powers to repair clothing.

Kerry returned, the ball clutched in her small hands. "It bounced most of the way to Leader's house!" she scolded.

"I told you I couldn't throw straight," Serena reminded her a bit absently, her gaze lifting to study the distant house that was the tallest in Sanctuary.

"Well, I'm not going to run after it again. Roxanne, can I use your sand to try to make a mirror?"

A little amused, Roxanne said, "If you mean the sand in the courtyard, yes. But is my sand so different from anyone else's?"

The child nodded. "It's perfect sand, and Teacher says only perfect sand makes perfect mirrors."

"Very well, but be careful."

Kerry rolled her eyes at the constant adult refrain, then scrambled over the low wall beside Serena and went to select the proper spot for her mirror-making. The one she settled on was several yards away from the two women.

"Teacher says," Serena murmured, still gazing off at the Leader's house. "Can't she create a mirror without sand?"

"No, of course not," Roxanne answered in surprise.

Serena sent her an oblique glance. "But your friend Adina the tailor can create doth without threads. Calandra makes wonderful soup or sweets from nothing but air. And just yesterday I saw your neighbor Heather conjure enough water for those flowers she's trying to keep alive."

Roxanne frowned slightly. "Mirrors are different. We can no more conjure them than we can living creatures."

Serena heard herself laugh, a low sound that was wry rather than amused. She couldn't create a mirror, either, unless she used sand. Nor could Merlin. He had taught her it was because the energies required to create anything from nothing were especially potent, and a mirror conjured that way reflected the energies so fiercely that the mirror always-always-shattered into a million pieces.

Even using sand, it was difficult, exacting work to create a mirror, and it always had to be done with the mirror facing away. Otherwise the reflection could cause a painful jolt.

As for creating living creatures, that was another ability all wizards lacked even in modern times. They could change one living creature into another-an enemy into a toad, for instance-but they could not create a living being except the same way all humans did-by having children.

"I merely wondered," she said at last, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure Kerry was all right. She was, squatting and carefully smoothing the sand she had chosen into a small oval.

Serena sighed, turning her gaze this time toward the mountains outside the city. Without realizing what she was doing, she lifted one hand and rubbed the little heart-Merlin's mark-at the base of her throat with a finger. What was he doing up there? Varian had a palace, Roxanne had told her; sometimes when the light was right, it was possible to get a glimpse of shining windows or pale marble, a hint of the riches the males enjoyed creating for themselves, but right now she could see nothing.

Was Merlin trying to convince Tremayne that male and female wizards could coexist? Serena didn't know. She had thought about trying to get into his mind as she had twice before, but shied away from the attempt-partly because of the strain between them and partly because she was afraid she would find him in bed with one of the many concubines Varian was reputed to have in his palace.

That possibility hurt her even more than the knowledge that Merlin could strip her of her powers and destroy her if he wanted to, and it told her something about her own feelings. She was far less afraid of him than of losing him.

"You've been very quiet today," Roxanne observed, seemingly fixing most of her concentration on the mending in her lap. "Is it-do you miss Merlin?"

"Yes, I do," Serena replied honestly. It was the bald truth. Whatever else she thought or felt about this place and why they were here, one truth she had finally accepted was that Merlin wasn't to blame for any of it. And she missed him desperately; they hadn't been apart for so long in all the years she had lived with him.

She looked at Roxanne, catching a glimpse of something she couldn't quite read in the younger woman's blue eyes; it was a fleeting thing, hidden when the delicate blond returned her attention to her work.

"Perhaps he'll return soon," she suggested colorlessly.

Serena doubted that was a pleasant possibility to her hostess, but didn't comment, and they went on to talk casually of other things-including, when she finished it, Kerry's rather lopsided but functional mirror.

It was very late in the night, actually not long before dawn, when Serena sat up in her bed and used a tinder-box to light the candle on her bedside table. She banked the pillows behind her and leaned back against them, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. Even inside this solid stone house, the effects of the Curtain were oppressive, and she felt exhausted. Too exhausted to sleep.

One thing she had swiftly noticed about Sanctuary was that only the powerless citizens stirred about in the early mornings; the wizards tended to sleep for several more hours, because they slept so uneasily, if at all, during the dark night. Serena had managed to be up and about every morning before Roxanne, but she had caught herself dozing several times during the warm afternoon hours and knew she was risking an utter collapse if she didn't manage to get some decent sleep.

That thought had barely crossed her dulled mind when there was a soft knock at the door and Roxanne glided into the bedchamber, a ghostly figure in her shift.

"Are you all right, Serena?"

"Did the light disturb you? I'm sorry." Serena strove to keep her voice relaxed.

"No, I was awake." Roxanne came to the bed and eased down near the foot, facing her guest. Her delicate face was pale with the fatigue that gripped all wizards at night in the valley, but her eyes were clear and steady. "It's almost impossible to get any real rest while the Curtain drains us. Isn't it?"