Enchanted (33 page)

The taut, sultry perfection of the joining nearly
undid Simon.

“I am burning,” he said, anguish and
pleasure both.

It was the same for Ariane, an anguished pleasure
consuming her like fire.

“We are…”

Burning
.

And then neither one could breathe for the violent,
silken ecstasy pulsing between them.

When it was finally spent, when there were no more
ways to give and to take and to share, Simon gathered Ariane along
his body and held her as though he expected her to be torn from his
arms.

“There will be a way to defeat
Deguerre,” Simon said fiercely. “There must be. A lost
dowry is not worth so many lives.”

Ariane’s arms tightened around Simon, holding
him. Silently, passionately, she wished that her gift were
intact.

If only the dowry could be
found
.

A vision burst over Ariane, holding her completely
in thrall for a time that had no measure. She lay without moving,
seeing only Stone Ring Keep’s circle of stones standing tall
and hard against the winter sky.

But this time there were two rings of stone.

Ariane blinked, shuddered, and found herself held
within her sleeping husband’s arms. Elation spread through
her when she realized what had happened.

The Glendruid witch has the
right of it. Union with the right man can enhance a woman’s
powers
.

I am truly healed
!

Eagerly Ariane turned to awaken Simon, but stopped
before she spoke a single word.

My recklessness has cost
Blackthorne too much already, Deguerre like a great silver vulture
waiting for a bloody feast
.

If I tell Simon, what will
happen
?

Elation drained from Ariane. Simon would insist on
accompanying her to the Stone Ring. Dominic would insist that
knights accompany the two of them, for should her father get wind
of the dowry’s recovery, he certainly would move to prevent
it.

There were few enough knights as it was to defend
Blackthorne. There were none to spare for even the swiftest trip to
the Stone Ring. The fires from Deguerre’s camps surrounded
Blackthorne as though it were under siege.

Indeed, in a very real way, Blackthorne
was
under siege.

If I awaken Simon, he
won’t let me leave because he cannot leave with me. Simon the
Loyal is needed here and now by his lord and brother
.

But I am not
.

I will steal away, find proof
of my dowry, and bring it back for Simon to fling in my
father’s face
.

The thought made Ariane smile. It would give her
pleasure to prove to her father that she was as much to be reckoned
with as any cruel knight.

A sense of rightness stole through Ariane, a
certainty of what must be done.

And how.

To leave secretly, I must find
the keep’s bolt-hole. Where has it been hidden
?

After a few breaths a vision formed, torches
burning in a long hallway where rooms opened on either side;
buttery and barrels of salted eels, fowl with cool, faintly scaled
feet hanging ready for the roasting spit, fruit both fresh and
dried. Where the hall ended, the herbal began, rack upon rack of
plants drying.

And beyond the last rack, dug deep into the
hillside, hidden in darkness and stacks of twine, a small door was
bolted shut.

Next, the horse. Surely
someone has lost one in all this tumult. Perhaps one of my
father’s knights has a drunken squire or groom
.

It look longer this time, for the loss was less
precise. But slowly, slowly, a vision condensed from the
darkness…a horse in Norman trappings standing with its broad
rump to the wind and its nose in a Blackthorne haystack.

Carefully Ariane eased herself from Simon’s
arms. When he murmured as though in protest, she kissed him lightly
and smoothed her hand over his cheek. He nuzzled against her hair,
sighed and relaxed again.

“Sleep, my love,” Ariane whispered.
“All is well. I know where my dowry is.

“And I know how to save Blackthorne
Keep.”

“V
anished?” Simon
demanded. “What do you mean she has vanished?”

Sven looked warily from Dominic to Simon. Sven had
been on the Holy Crusade with both men. He would not relish
fighting either of them, and Simon looked like a man on the edge of
battle. Sven glanced in unwitting appeal to Meg, who was sitting on
her lord’s right in the solar’s warmth.

“Softly,” Meg said to Simon. “The
baron is never far from us.”

Simon’s mouth flattened but he didn’t
disagree. Instead, he stood, pushed aside the remains of his midday
meal, and stood close enough to Sven to touch him.

“Explain,” Simon said.

Though soft, his voice was no less savage.

“Lady Ariane wasn’t at morning
chapel,” Sven said quietly.

“Aye,” Dominic said from behind Simon.
“I thought she might have taken service with her
father’s chaplain.”

“The one who called her a wanton and demanded
penitence for a sin she never committed?” Simon asked in a
low, scornful voice. “I don’t think so. She would
rather take service with swine.”

“Ariane spoke to neither chaplain this
morning,” Sven said. “Nor is she bathing. Nor is she
embroidering. Nor is she harping sad songs.”

“What of the kitchen?” Meg asked.
“She has been teaching them savory tricks with the
stews.”

“The guard Lord Dominic posted in the
forebuilding said that no one but servants had gone out into the
bailey,” Sven said.

Dominic smiled and looked at Meg, who had once
slipped past Sven while dressed as a servant. Sven saw the look and
smiled ruefully.

“The guard was one of Blackthorne
Keep’s old knights,” Sven said. “The servants are
well-known to him.”

“’Tis no wonder Ariane stays away from
the kitchens today,” Meg said. “The devil’s own
storm is howling out there. Thank God the harvest is within the
walls.”

“But Lady Ariane is not,” Sven said
succinctly. “She is not at the wellhead. She is not in the
barracks. She is not in the armory, the buttery, the privy, or any
other cursed place I have searched.”

“Deguerre,” Simon said bitterly.
“I will have his manhood for this!”

“Where would he hide her?” Sven asked
in neutral tones. “He, too, is inside the keep.”

Dominic looked at Meg again.

“Small falcon?” he asked softly.
“How are your dreams?”

Meg closed her eyes. When they opened, they were
haunted.

“I slept well enough before the storm,”
Meg said. “Better than in many weeks. As though something had
been set aright.”

“And now, while you are awake?” Dominic
asked. “Do you dream?”

“When the storm broke during chapel, I felt
as though I were out in it.” She shivered. “It is very
cold out there, my lord. Deathly cold.”

“I know that all too well,” Simon said.
“I was out at the wooden palisade herding stonemasons as
though they were stubborn oxen.”

“Is the gap closed?” Sven asked.

“Soon,” Simon said succinctly,
“if I have to carry each icy stone myself. And I may. The
storm shows no sign of dying.”

“Aye,” Meg said, frowning. “I
didn’t expect such a severe storm this soon in the
season.”

“Go to your herbal,” Dominic said to
his wife. “Your people will require balm to ease their
chilblains.”

Meg started to object, saw the determination in
Dominic’s eyes, and understood that he wanted her gone from
the lord’s solar.

“Of course,” she said.
“But—”

“If I need you,” Dominic interrupted,
“I will send for you very speedily.”

“Aye,” Meg said crisply, turning away.
“See that you do.”

As the sound of Meg’s golden jesses faded
from the solar, Dominic turned to Sven.

“Wait for a moment beyond the door,”
Dominic said. “I have a private matter to discuss with
Simon.”

Sven could well guess what the matter was. He
turned and walked from the solar with a sense of frank relief. He
did not want to be in the vicinity when brother quizzed brother on
the subject of marital intimacy.

“Did you and Ariane quarrel over her
rape?” Dominic asked bluntly.

“No.”

“Over her father?”

“No.”

“Over anything?”

“There was no anger between us when we fell
asleep.”

“Coldness?”

Simon closed his eyes as a wave of hot memories
poured through him.

“Nay,” Simon said huskily. “Far
from it. Ariane burns as no other woman on earth.”

Dominic sighed and raked his fingers through his
hair.

“It makes no sense!” snarled the
Glendruid Wolf. “Why is she gone?”

“Perhaps she isn’t.”

“And perhaps eels grow feathers and fly to
their spawning grounds,” Dominic retorted. “The keep is
not so large that a lady could be overlooked while wearing a
Learned dress embroidered with silver lightning.”

Simon had no argument, for what Dominic said was
true.

“I will search for her myself,” Simon
said.

“Nay.”

“Why?” demanded Simon harshly.

“If you go crying from the battlements to the
herbal seeking your wife, Deguerre will seize the opportunity to
run shouting to king and duke alike that we have murdered his
precious daughter and hidden her dowry along with her corpse. Then
all hell will be let out for breakfast!”

“I will be discreet,” Simon said
through his teeth.

“Joseph and Mary,” Dominic muttered.
“At the moment you look as discreet as a Norse
berserker.”

Simon barely managed to bite back a violent retort.
A deep uneasiness was riding him. The uneasiness had begun as he
helped the stonemasons and had increased with each stone laid.

Then the storm had come down from the north, making
it all but impossible to lay stones.

Deathly cold
.

“Put Leaper or Stagkiller onto Ariane’s
scent,” Simon said curtly.

“Outside the keep? ’Tis futile. The
storm will have washed away all trace.”

“Begin inside, with the parts of the keep
where Ariane rarely goes. If the scent is fresh…”

Simon didn’t have to finish. Dominic was
already calling for a squire to bring Erik to the solar with his
wolfhound. Leaper was an easier matter. Dominic simply whistled and
the grey hound emerged from beneath
the table
where she had been questing for scraps.

“Do you have something with Ariane’s
scent upon it, and only Ariane’s?” Dominic asked.

“Her harp.”

Dominic looked startled. “It isn’t with
her?”

“Nay. It is by the side of our
bed.”

For the first time, Dominic looked truly worried.
Never had he seen Ariane when her harp wasn’t within
reach.

“Get the harp and go to the wellhead,”
Dominic said tightly. “We will begin there.”

By the time Simon retrieved the harp and arrived at
the level where the wellhead and garrison were, Stagkiller and Erik
were already waiting.

“Stagkiller found no groups of men who had
hidden without fires,” Erik said to Dominic.
“’Tis simply too cold.”

“Sven said the same thing. Nor are any of
Deguerre’s men heading for Stone Ring Keep or Sea
Home.”

“Better that they did,” Erik said.
“Cassandra will be planning unpleasant welcomes. We could use
fewer of the enemy underfoot.”

“Aye. By both your estimate and Sven’s,
Deguerre has at least two and probably three times the number of
fighters we do.”

“Were the Baron Deguerre outside the walls
rather than lounging at table in the great hall, I would say we
were under siege,” Erik muttered.

“As it is,” Dominic said dryly as Simon
walked up, “we are merely under the
threat
of siege.”

“Who courses first, Leaper or
Stagkiller?” Simon asked baldly.

“Leaper,” Dominic said. “She has
free run of the keep. No one will remark her comings and
goings.”

Dominic bent to the slender hound, gave her a low
command, and indicated the harp in Simon’s hand. Though most
of her kind were good only for running game that had been driven
into the open by beaters,
Leaper had a fine
nose and a keen desire to use it. Most often it was Leaper who
discovered game, rather than the slow-footed peasants wielding
sticks.

Leaper sniffed the harp, sniffed again, sniffed a
third time, and then looked at Dominic. A movement of his hand sent
the hound to work.

Palm on Stagkiller’s head, Erik watched the
slender grey bitch quarter the wellhead room, searching for fresh
scent. When she reached the stone stairway that spiraled through
the corner of the keep, she whined softly.

Instantly Dominic was at her side.

“Up or down?” he asked.

“Down,” Simon said. “’Tis
less used by Ariane.”

Another signal sent Leaper down the stairs. The men
followed in a rush of booted feet on stone. Before they reached the
herbal, Meg was standing in the doorway looking alarmed. Her hand
was wrapped around Leaper’s leather collar.

“What is Leap—” Meg began, only
to be interrupted.

“Release her,” Simon said urgently.

Meg let go of the collar without a word.

Leaper slipped by Meg’s long green skirts and
vanished into the herbal with Meg and the men hard on her heels.
Simon grabbed the lamp Meg had been using and waited to see what
the hound would do next.

The varied and pungent smells of the herbal
confused Leaper, but only for a short time. Another sniff of the
harp and the bitch was casting about once more. Soon she had the
scent and was off again, threading deeper and deeper into the
herbal’s dark recesses.

At the same moment Meg and Dominic realized where
Leaper must be going. Dominic looked quickly at Erik, shrugged, and
decided that the Learned sorcerer had kept more important secrets
than the location of Blackthorne Keep’s bolt-hole.

Leaper’s long muzzle held to a line on the
floor as though she were on a tight leash. She trotted up to the
stacks of twine and sacks waiting to be used,
scrambled over them, and whined at the bolt-hole’s door.

“Open it,” Dominic said tersely.

Simon did so and held the lamp aloft. Nothing but a
dark, cramped tunnel looked back at him.

The air that rolled into the room from the
tunnel’s small mouth was frigid. A dim, distant circle of
light and the moaning of the wind were the only signs that the
tunnel ended.

Leaper shivered with cold and whined with eagerness
to follow the scent trail. Dominic shook out a leash, secured it to
Leaper’s collar, and started toward the tunnel.

“Stay here,” Simon said, grabbing
Dominic’s arm. “You are needed at the keep, not
I.”

After a moment of hesitation, Dominic turned the
leather over to Simon and stepped back from the tunnel. Simon
handed the harp to Dominic, bent, and followed Leaper into the
opening. The darkness of Simon’s mantle merged instantly with
that of the tunnel.

Hound and man emerged in a leaf-stripped willow
thicket. Though it was still afternoon, there was a twilight pall
to the day. Beyond the thicket, snow skidded along parallel to the
ground, blown by a merciless wind.

Following Ariane’s scent would be extremely
difficult. Nor did Simon see any sign of tracks. He stepped into
the storm anyway, for Ariane was somewhere out there in the icy
wind.

Leaper lost the scent no more than a few yards from
the thicket. She whined and quartered and whined some more, until
Simon dragged the lean, shivering hound back into the tunnel.

“She lost the scent just beyond the
thicket,” Simon said curtly as he emerged into the
herbal’s aromatic calm. “No tracks.”

His eyes said much more, blacker and more wild than
the storm. Like Leaper, he was shivering from the icy talons of the
wind.

“Stagkiller,” Simon said, turning to
Erik. “I doubt that he can scent what Leaper cannot, but
’tis our best hope.”

No one said it was their only hope until the storm
ended and the Learned peregrine could be flown.

Stagkiller sniffed deeply of the harp and bounded
into the tunnel. So large was the hound that his head brushed the
ceiling.

Tensely Meg and the men waited.

Soon, too soon, Stagkiller’s unhappy howl
lifted above the wind.

“Lost the scent,” Erik said
succinctly.

“Was there another scent in the
tunnel?” Dominic asked.

Erik whistled a command that was both shrill and
oddly musical. Stagkiller’s howling ceased. Very shortly the
thick-furred hound emerged from the tunnel. Erik took
Stagkiller’s huge, savage head between his hands and spoke to
him in an alien tongue.

The hound went back into the tunnel again. It was
several minutes before he returned and glided up to his master.

“No other recent scents but hers and
Simon’s,” Erik said.

“Ariane was alone when she left?” Simon
asked, dazed. “Why would she leave the keep’s warmth in
the middle of a savage storm?”

“Perhaps it wasn’t storming when she
left,” Dominic said.

“Perhaps it wouldn’t matter if it had
been,” Meg said. “A woman who would charge a war-horse
with a palfrey doesn’t lack courage.”

“Perhaps she didn’t leave
willingly,” Erik said.

“She was alone,” Dominic said.
“Your own Learned hound can attest to that.”

“Aye. But her father is a warlock. Who knows
what mischief he could brew?”

Simon became very still. “What are you
saying?”

Erik shrugged. “The man has some Learning. I
can sense it in him. But his is the kind of Learning that once
divided Druid from Druid, clan from clan, and man from his
soul.”

“If Deguerre has harmed Ariane, he is a dead
man,” Simon said distinctly.

“First you must find his daughter and prove
that he has done evil,” Dominic said.

“Why else would Ariane leave if not
forced?” Simon asked fiercely. “
There is no reason
.”