Enchanted (10 page)

Abruptly Simon cursed and some of the savagery left
his eyes. A flick of the cat’s tail under Simon’s nose
reminded him of his true mission in life—making His Laziness
purr.

“No,” Simon said quietly. “Ariane
loves no man. In some ways it might be easier if she did. I could
kill him.”

Dominic smiled sardonically. “Then Lady
Ariane is like some of the sultan’s harem. She prefers the
touch of her own sex.”

“Nay. Ariane prefers no touch at all. Even in
the bath, no one attends her.”

“The bath…”

Dominic smiled to himself as he remembered the
pleasures of bathing with his Glendruid wife, whose love of water
was even greater than that of the Saracen sultans whose palaces
sang with fountains.

“Such a cream-licking smile,” Simon
said, half-disgusted, half-curious.

Curiosity won.

“Is that how you tamed your small
falcon?” Simon asked. “Did you catch her when her wings
were too wet to fly?”

Dominic laughed softly.

Stroking the cat, Simon waited with leashed
impatience.

“I tamed my small falcon quite
carefully,” Dominic said, “whether in the bath or the
forest or the bedchamber.”

Simon looked at Meg. Her hair burned brightly, but
nothing was as vivid as the Glendruid green of her eyes as she
talked with Amber.

“Was it the golden jesses you made for her
that tamed her wild heart?” Simon asked.

“Nay.”

“A sound beating?”

Dominic shook his head.

“’Tis just as well,” Simon
muttered. “I have no taste for thumping on things smaller
than I.”

“Excellent. I have it on good authority that
the small things don’t care for it either.”

Simon laughed aloud. The sound was so unexpected,
and so infectious, that Ariane looked up from her nearly empty
plate. Amethyst eyes flashed in the instant before she looked down
once more.

“She looks only at you,” Dominic
said.

“What?”

“Your wife. No matter who is in the room, she
sees only you.”

“Wait until the sun god arrives,” Simon
retorted.

“Erik?”

“Aye,” Simon said curtly.

Dominic shook his head. “You are the sun that
shines in her eyes, not Erik.”

“Of course. That’s why she tried to put
a dagger through my heart.”

Dominic winced. “Win her trust, and she will
fight just as fiercely
for
you.”

“The thought appeals.”

A rill of notes lifted from the far end of the
table where Ariane sat. The music was not quite a melody, but it
was melodic. It wasn’t a song, yet it sang of emotions
swirling beneath the cool surface of a woodland spring, making
shadows turn in the clear depths.

Moments later the melody turned back upon itself,
reprising itself as surely as day and night turning and returning
in their ordained cycles. A clear whistle lifted to the notes,
twining around them, defining them.

The piercing beauty of the joined notes stitched
through Ariane’s soul like silver needles. She turned to see
the source of the whistle.

Simon.

Ariane’s hands fumbled, then dropped to her
lap.

“Play, nightingale,” Simon said.
“Or does my whistling displease you so much?”

“Displease?” Ariane took a deep breath.
“Nay. It was the unexpected beauty that surprised
me.”

Simon’s eyes widened, then narrowed at the
familiar surge of fire that came whenever he was near Ariane.

Or even when he thought of her.

Abruptly Simon stood up. He plucked off His
Laziness and set the grumbling cat on the warm hearth.

“I’m going to test Skylance’s
wings,” Simon muttered.

He yanked on his hawking gauntlet, strode to one of
the wall perches, and urged his hooded gyrfalcon from its
perch.

“Aren’t you going to wait for
others?” Dominic asked.

“I’m not a lord to require
attendance,” Simon said impatiently.

“Your squire would probably appreciate a
chance to breathe the air of the fens and fells.”

Simon glanced toward Edward, but it was Ariane who
caught and held his eye. She was watching the gyrfalcon with a
longing that she couldn’t conceal.

Swiftly Simon went to his wife. The gyrfalcon rode
his arm with a quick grace that rivaled that of Simon himself.

“Would you care to go hawking with me?”
Simon asked. “The falconer brought word of fat partridges on
the western side of Stone Ring.”

“Hawking? Aye!” Ariane said, leaping to
her feet. “I grow weary of cold stone.”

“Edward,” Simon said without looking
away from his wife. “Send to the stables for two horses. My
wife and I are going hawking.”

“Alone, sir?” Edward asked.

“Yes. Alone.”

W
hen Cassandra came into the great
hall a short time after Simon and Ariane left to go hawking, only
Dominic remained. On the table in front of him was an ancient Latin
text. He was reading it intently, obviously engrossed.

A ripple of surprise and interest went through
Cassandra. People who could read the old manuscripts were quite
rare. She had trained Amber and Erik most carefully in such
reading, for the Learned had inherited a wealth of old writings
that required translation.

Idly Cassandra wondered if she could induce Dominic
to learn the ancient rune language. Amber had little time for
translation now that she was the lady of Stone Ring Keep.

Dominic nodded his head once, sharply, as though he
had reached some inner conclusion. Without looking up, he went on
to a new page of the manuscript, handling the parchment with a care
that approached reverence.

“Good morning to you, Lord Dominic,”
Cassandra said politely. “Have you seen Erik?”

Dominic looked up. “Good morning, Learned. I
thought Erik was with you. He didn’t breakfast in the great
hall.”

“Do you know if he plans to return to Sea
Home soon?”

“Yesterday during the hunt he mentioned
something about overseeing the building of Sea Home’s inner
keep before the first true cold came. He’s worried that the
snows will be early and stay for weeks upon the
ground this year. He said something about the geese coming early to
the Whispering Fen.”

“Aye.”

Cassandra stood for a moment as though listening to
something within her mind. Then she sighed.

“Your man Sven,” she said.

“Yes?”

“Is he nearby?”

“No. I sent him into the countryside,”
Dominic said. “Meg’s dreams grow more dire each
night.”

A shadow went over Cassandra’s face.

“Yes,” the Learned woman said. “I
talked to her in the garden.”

“What of you, Learned? What do your rune
stones say when you cast them?”

“I thought you didn’t believe in such
things.”

“I believe in anything that will help bring
peace to this troubled land,” Dominic said bluntly.

“You are wiser than your brother.”

“I’ve had an excellent
teacher.”

“Your wife?” Cassandra asked.

Dominic nodded.

“The rune stones say much the same as your
wife’s dreams,” Cassandra said. “Death stalks the
Disputed Lands.”

“Death stalks all life.”

The Learned woman smiled, but there was little
comfort in the cool curve of her lips.

“Does that mean,” she asked,
“that you want no information about where death might first
strike?”

“No. It means that we are having an early,
cold autumn that will likely be followed by a harsh winter in which
the weakest will die. It means that men have fought and died in the
Disputed Lands since long before the first Roman scribe scratched
words on parchment. It means—”

“—that death is common,”
summarized Cassandra.

“Let’s just say that prophesying death
in the near future takes no more skill than a rooster prophesying
dawn,” Dominic said neutrally.

Cassandra laughed with genuine amusement,
surprising Dominic.

“You and Simon share much in common,”
Cassandra said.

“We are brothers.”

“You are very stubborn clay.”

“Then stop trying to mold us.”

“I?” Cassandra asked. “I am but
clay myself. ’Tis God’s hand that shapes us, not
mine.”

Dominic made a sound that could have meant anything
from agreement to displeasure.

“When Sven returns with information about the
countryside, will you make certain that Erik is present?”
Cassandra asked. “Erik has a gift for taking odd incidents
and finding the pattern lying just beneath.”

“Of course. Erik is Blackthorne’s ally,
just as Duncan is. Both have my confidence.”

The sound of voices calling from the bailey seeped
into the great hall. Much more clearly came the clatter of shod
hooves over cobblestones as men rode across the bailey toward the
keep itself.

A peregrine called from outside the building. The
falcon’s voice was high, sweet, and wild to the last pure
note.

“Erik comes,” Cassandra said.

Dominic didn’t doubt it. The call of
Erik’s peregrine was a sound not easily forgotten. No other
falcon sounded quite like it.

A horse neighed and stamped impatiently. A steel
shod hoof rang on the cobblestone.

“Sven comes,” Dominic said.

Cassandra gave him an enigmatic look.

“His was the only shod horse to go out this
morning,” Dominic said coolly. “A shod horse has just
crossed the bailey from the outer moat. Logic, not
witchery.”

Cassandra’s smile was as enigmatic as her
silver eyes. “Each man believes that which comforts
him.”

One of Dominic’s black eyebrows rose
questioningly.

“For your comfort,” Cassandra said,
“let me assure you that Erik’s
logic
is far superior to most men’s in all
things save one.”

“And that is?”

“Understanding women.”

Smiling, Dominic said, “’Tis reassuring
to know that Erik is more man than sorcerer.”

“It would be more reassuring if he used his
head at all times,” Cassandra muttered.

Before Dominic could reply, Sven and Erik came into
the great hall.

“Where is Duncan?” Erik asked.

“Checking the armory,” Dominic said.
“He wasn’t satisfied with the steward’s
inventory.”

“We may need every blade and then
some,” Erik said. “There are outlaws nearby.”

“Enough to threaten the keep?” Dominic
asked instantly.

Erik shook his head.

“Not yet,” Sven said. “But three
of the outlaws ride shod horses. From the size and depth of the
tracks, I would swear they are battle stallions carrying knights in
chain mail.”

“What else did you discover?” Dominic
demanded.

“They are renegades. They attacked the
household train of a northern lord who was traveling to his winter
manor.”

Dominic grimaced and said sardonically, “A
brave knight indeed, to attack servants, children and kitchen
goods.”

“Fortunately, the lord’s own knights
came back to check on the progress of the train,” Sven said.
“At least, that’s what it seemed from the
tracks.”

“It fit the pattern,” Erik said.

“Pattern?” Cassandra asked sharply.

“Rumors have come from Sea Home in the past
few days,” Erik said. “Rumors of a knight who fights
for Satan rather than Christ.”

“What does this knight look like? For which
lord does he ride?”

Sven shook his head. “None. ’Tis said
that the design on his shield was burned off in the very fires of
hell.”

“More likely he destroyed the design
himself,” Dominic said. “If word got back to his true
lord, he would be hunted down and hanged for the traitorous outlaw
and craven that he is.”

“That may be true of the other
knights,” Erik said, “but their leader is rumored to
fight with the strength and skill of three men.”

“Aye,” Sven said. “Three of the
northern lord’s knights tried to kill him. He killed two of
them before he fled. The third nearly died of his
wounds.”

“Have you talked to the one who
survived?” Dominic asked.

“Aye,” Erik said. “A wise woman
is nursing him back to health in a hamlet just beyond the western
boundary of Stone Ring Keep’s land.”

“What did the wounded knight say?”

“He could barely talk,” Sven said.
“He was half out of his mind with wound fever.”

“He said that the renegade is the greatest
warrior the Disputed Lands has ever known,” Erik said.

“What of Duncan, the Scots Hammer?”
Dominic asked mildly. “Or Erik, called the
Undefeated?”

“The Scots Hammer brought me down,”
Erik said.

“And there sits Dominic, who defeated the
Scots Hammer,” Sven pointed out. “Surely Dominic is
greater than this devil knight.”

“Any man may be defeated,” Cassandra
said. “Any man may be victorious. It depends on the man, the
weapon, and the reason for fighting.”

“This one fights for bloodlust, plunder, and
rape,” Erik said.

His tone said that the pattern he had found
surrounding the renegade knight was loathsome.

“Unfortunately, the spawn of Satan fights
like an archangel,” Sven said.

“Did the wounded knight get close enough to
see his attacker?” Dominic asked.

Sven gave a lithe shrug. “Aye, but he saw
only his own defeat rushing down. To hear him, the renegade is a
giant among men, with the burning eyes of a demon.”

“Red, I presume,” Dominic said
dryly.

“What?” asked Sven.

“His eyes.”

“No. Blue.”

Dominic sighed. “Well, we know it isn’t
Simon or Erik. That leaves perhaps four score blue-eyed warriors
for us to consider.”

“We won’t be long in wondering,”
Erik said. “My peregrine spotted strange knights beyond the
west side of Stone Ring.”

“The west side?” Dominic shot to his
feet. “Are you certain?”

“Aye,” Erik said. “That’s
why we came back here so quickly. We needed armor and
war-horses.”

“God’s teeth,” snarled Dominic as
he ran toward the armory. “Simon and Ariane are hawking for
partridge west of Stone Ring!”

“Who went with them?” called Erik.

“No one. Not even a squire!”

Sven and Erik didn’t ask any more questions.
They simply followed the Glendruid Wolf to the armory at a dead
run.