Steadily he said, "It happened a long, long time ago. Try to think of it that way."

As they began climbing again, this time side by side, she said, "I've tried, but I can't help it when that doesn't always work. I think of Roxanne as my friend, you know, and we can't be certain she'll leave here with Tremayne. And then there's little Kerry…"

"Is that the child whose mother was looking for her as we left Roxanne's house?" Merlin asked, trying to distract her thoughts from the coming devastation.

"Um. She's a little imp, always sneaking off and worrying people, according to Roxanne. Between them, she and Felice-who's more of a foster mother, by the way-have their hands full watching Kerry." With a slight grimace Serena added, "I'm not surprised the kid made herself scarce, though; with Roxanne leaving the city yesterday afternoon and Felice preoccupied because she's trying to get pregnant, I imagine Kerry found herself at loose ends. And she's a doer."

"Do you want children?" Merlin startled himself as much as Serena with the question.

"I don't know. Yes, I think so." She cleared her throat. "To be honest, I haven't thought a lot about it. There didn't seem to be much use in it."

They had reached the clearing that was their goal, and Merlin stopped, looking down at Serena. It was getting dark rapidly, but he could still see her lovely, solemn face. "Why not?" he asked her curiously.

"Because I thought you were beyond reach," she answered candidly. "I couldn't see myself getting married or making a baby with anyone else, not when I loved you. So it seemed… less painful to just not think about it."

Merlin felt a strange sensation in his chest, as if his heart had turned over. Slowly he said, "You've gone out with dozens of men over the years."

"And you've gone out with dozens of women," she reminded him. "All a part of the social pretense of being just like everyone else instead of wizards." Turning away and shrugging off her backpack, she added dryly, "Of course, I didn't have a bordello to go to."

He followed her slowly, grappling with what she seemed to be telling him. As he shrugged out of his backpack, he said a bit absently, "I'm never going to live that down with you, am I?"

"Not on your life. Shall I put the fire here?"

"Yes-and be careful."

"Something I'll never be able to live down," she murmured, recalling her youthful attempt to create fire back in Seattle that had nearly resulted in a four-alarm blaze.

The clearing was tucked back several yards away from a sharp diff overlooking the valley, with trees climbing the slopes. It was as if someone had carved a large step from the mountain. Behind Serena and beginning some feet away was a rock-strewn gradient that eventually grew steeper and became dotted with trees farther up the mountain.

Merlin watched her, critical out of habit because he'd been her teacher for so long.

After dropping her backpack to the ground and pushing the edges of her cloak back over her shoulders, Serena created a small basin in the ground by circling her hand above it, and then prepared to make a campfire. But before she could begin, a deep, angry rumble signaled yet another tremor, and she found herself completely occupied in trying to keep her balance on ground that was suddenly no more solid than quicksand.

It seemed to get darker as the earth heaved and moaned underneath them; even the sliver of moon hid behind scudding clouds. Over the unholy racket of a continent trying to wrench itself apart, Merlin heard a different sound, and he sensed the threat hidden by darkness. Without thought and out of an instinct born of man rather than wizard, he leaped toward Serena.

She clung gratefully to him when Merlin's arms closed about her. She was trying so hard just to keep to her feet that she didn't hear the sharp, angry sounds of stones and boulders plunging down the gradient toward them and only felt the impact of something striking Merlin's body as he shielded her.

That sickening jolt was all either of them needed to remind them of their own abilities, and fester even than thought their combined energies formed a protective aura around them.

like all the tremors of Atlantis, this one lasted no more than a minute or so, though it seemed much longer. The ground abruptly stopped heaving, and the dreadful groaning of tortured earth became utter silence, disturbed only by the clacking sounds of stone striking stone as the last few rocks cascaded down the mountainside.

"Richard, are you all right?" Serena demanded, easing back just far enough to look up at him. Their protective aura faded away, as it was no longer needed.

"It was just a glancing blow," he said, straightening from the slightly hunched position he had assumed to shield her. The movement made him wince.

"Where did it hit you?"

"I'm fine, I told you."

"Yeah, right." Serena took a step away from him and briskly finished the campfire she'd begun. Then she built a roomy and sturdy lean-to just behind it, with enough space at the front for Merlin to stand up straight, even as she wondered why on earth they both kept sticking to this primitive stuff Why not a nice little house? With a couple-no, with one big bed and a nice bathroom with a sunken tub and maybe a bottle of very good, very old wine…

Merlin barely remembered to throw out a protective screen around the clearing, hiding their presence from any other wizards who might be in the area. The stone, a large one, had struck his upper back just above his right shoulder blade, and though the blow wasn't disabling, it hurt like hell and spread an ache over that shoulder and all the way down his right arm.

He had been injured rarely enough in his life for him to still feel a shock at the vulnerability of his own body. It was a very peculiar feeling. Always before, that sensation had troubled him long after the injury healed, but this time he found himself far more interested in Serena's reaction. He watched her as she conjured, with a rather impatient wave of her hand, a wide, thick pallet for the lean-to, then tossed her cloak over it and came back around the fire to him, frowning.

"Very good," he noted.

"I considered creating a nice little house with all the modern amenities, but figured you wouldn't approve. Stop being a teacher and come sit down," she told him, taking his arm. "I want to see where that rock hit you."

"Serena-" He started to protest, but he found himself led to the shelter and divested of his coat, which she absently folded neatly and then carelessly dropped onto the pallet. Then she reached up to begin briskly unlacing his shirt, and Merlin's amusement faded. She looked very serious, he thought, very competent. But just as he wondered if she was thinking only of his injury, he saw the faint color across her cheekbones and realized she was as aware of him as he was of her.

"You don't have to do this," he murmured. "I mean, if you don't want to."

Her lashes lifted, and fierce green eyes glared at him. "That," she said with emphasis, "was an asinine thing to say."

That was his Serena, he reminded himself ruefully, frank to a fault and completely without guile. "Yes, it was," he admitted.

"Then why did you say it?" She was watching her fingers, which were coping with the lacings of his shirt with far less dexterity than they had only a moment ago.

"Because I felt awkward, I suppose."

"Not… not because you didn't want me touching you?"

Merlin didn't answer right away, because he was trying to find the words to tell her how he felt. Then she looked up at him again, and the flash of her eyes seemed to pull the honest response from him. "Christ, no."

She looked startled, then smiled a little. "Good. Now, why don't you help me get you out of this shirt so I can take a look at your back."