The childishness of her words and tone drew his gaze back to her face, and he smiled. "In the general scheme of things, nothing at all. But you can't help everyone, Serena. Besides that, people are meant to solve their own problems, to use their own abilities, skills, and intelligence. I've tried to teach you that. I've tried to make you understand that we can't cure the ills of the world."

Serena knew she still looked petulant; she could feel how far her bottom lip was sticking out. But she was honestly perplexed. "I don't see why we can't try. I mean, what's so awful about me finding a lost ring for Thomas, or… or boosting Maggie's confidence before a big meeting, or fixing it so that Chris doesn't get the flu next week?"

Only the last part of the demand prompted Merlin's concern. "The flu? Serena, you aren't ready to heal yet."

"I didn't do anything major," she repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time this evening. "And it wasn't really healing, since he isn't sick yet. I just made the virus inert, that's all."

Looking stern, Merlin said, "You must promise me to never again attempt any kind of healing until I say you're ready. It's the most complex skill you'll ever learn, and demands a great deal more knowledge of human biology than you have yet."

Sobered by his grave tone, she nodded. "All right, I promise."

He relaxed visibly. Though she was a sometimes difficult pupil, Serena's word was as good as gold.

"But what if I've already screwed up?" she went on, worried now. "I might have given poor Chris the bubonic plague or something even worse."

"I doubt it. But I'll check him before we leave, just to make sure."

The band finished with a flourish then, and they went back to their table. Seth and Jane had disappeared, undoubtedly to celebrate further their good fortune, and Serena felt a stab of pure envy. Even with all the occasional hassles and confusions, their lives seemed so simple to her, and their relationship was so clear-and normal.

She wondered, not for the first time, if her friends could even begin to imagine how different her life was.

"I see Chris near the door," Merlin said, draping Serena's glittery evening shawl around her shoulders. As she turned to face him, he added slowly, "I don't think…" He went very still, his black eyes almost glowing, they were so intense.

The look was familiar to Serena, but each time she saw it she felt respect and wonder and a great deal more, because at such times the incredible power in him was literally tangible. She stood gazing up at him, waiting, unaware that her heart was in her eyes for that brief moment, and that anyone who saw would have known a truth she had spent a great deal of effort to obscure.

Anyone would have known her secret-except the man she was looking at.

Merlin relaxed, then looked down at her. His eyes were still vibrant, though they no longer radiated so much of his inner power. "Chris is fine, Serena. You did turn the virus inert."

She drew a quick breath. "Good. You had me worried there for a while. I sure won't forget my promise, you can bet on that."

He took her arm and began steering her toward an exit. "No, I'm sure you won't."

Serena looked up at him with curiosity as they wended their way from the ballroom and toward the front of the hotel. She kept her voice low and chose her words carefully, conscious of the other departing guests all around them. "You've never asked me to promise not to… urn… practice what you've taught me. The way I did tonight. Why not?"

Merlin didn't answer, not until the valet had delivered his car and they were on their way home. Concentrating on the rain-slick streets as he handled the big Lincoln, he said slowly, "How could I ask you to promise you'd never use any of your powers without my approval? It would be like asking a young bird to promise not to fly. But I can insist that you learn the dangers of flying, along with the necessary skills needed to fly well. And I can do my best to guide you through the hazards."

Serena didn't respond to that out loud, but she thought about his words all the way home. Perhaps the effects of the champagne were wearing off, but in any case she felt decidedly guilty about her indiscriminate use of her powers.

The old Victorian house welcomed them with a number of lamps left burning. Most of its rooms were decorated with style and simplicity and were hardly different from any of the neighboring houses. The rooms that were different were kept locked whenever they had guests, and not even Merlin's longtime housekeeper was encouraged to enter them.

Merlin strode toward one of those rooms as soon as they entered the house. His study. "We should work tomorrow," he said to Serena, loosening his tie as he paused at the door and looked at her.

Answering the implicit question, she said, "I don't have any plans for the weekend, so that's fine."

"Good. I'll see you in the morning then."

Serena said, "Good night," but found herself addressing the dosing door of his study. She stood there for several moments, slowly removing her shawl. The house was very quiet.

It wasn't unusual for Merlin to shut himself in the study and work far into the night, especially during recent months. Since his "normal" life and business occupied a great deal of his time during the day, his real life's work had to be scheduled for odd hours, weekends, holidays, and vacations.

After nine years Serena no longer questioned his dedication, his strength, or his stamina. Whatever time and effort it took for Richard Patrick Merlin to make his unusual life succeed, he was prepared to give it. And then some. So he bought, sold, and developed real estate during the day, and with all his free time he worked to perfect his art.

It said much for his skills in both areas of his life that he had attained the level of Master wizard, the highest level possible, years before. In fact, long before Serena had come to study with him. At the same time, he had achieved a high degree of respect and esteem within the powerless community of Seattle.

None of whose citizens had any idea that an ancient art was practiced in their midst.

Serena gazed at the dosed door for a few moments more, then went up the stairs to her bedroom. She undressed and changed for bed, took her makeup off and her hair down. She turned on the television to catch the late news, but paid little attention to the program as she moved restlessly around.

How much longer could she go on? The simple answer was-as long as necessary. Like Merlin, she grudged no time or effort in her quest to become a Master wizard; that had been her ambition from earliest childhood. But unlike him, she was constantly distracted and disturbed by… other matters.

Other matters. How laughably inadequate that phrase was, she reflected somewhat bitterly.

His powers set him apart from most men, and Serena thought her knowledge of his difference made him often seem somewhat remote, even with her. At least she hoped that was it.

He was the most powerful wizard to walk the face of modern-day earth, and that had to be a kind of burden even as it was an accomplishment matched by very few in all of history. Serena had long wanted to ask him if it was a burden, but she had always hesitated. She had, over the years, learned not to pry, not to ask personal questions. It was useless in any case; what Merlin chose not to answer, he simply ignored.

And so, wholly occupied with perfecting his art and passing the knowledge on to her, his Apprentice, he rarely, if ever, saw her as a woman. At best she was a young student with a great deal to learn, at worst a bothersome child.

Serena had learned to live with that, or thought she had. Nights like this one made her doubt it. There was a strong part of her, intensifying year by year, that demanded she make Merlin see her as the woman she was, and that part often let itself be known. But each time it happened, she sensed something in him she didn't understand, something she couldn't put a name to and was frightened by.