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“Don't what? Tell the truth? Your dark warrior won't marry you until he remembers his past, and he can't keep his hands off you longer than it takes to swallow. You'll be his whore before the first snow falls!”

Abruptly Duncan dropped his hands to his side.

Erik saw and laughed harshly.

“That's fine for now,” he said in a scathing voice. “But the next time she offers herself, can you promise you won't take what she is so willing to give?”

Duncan opened his mouth to promise, but knew before the first word was spoken that he would be forsworn. Amber was a fire in his flesh, in his blood, in his very bones.

“If I take Amber's maidenhead,” Duncan said tightly, “I will marry her.”

“With or without your memory?” Erik demanded.

“Aye.”

Erik sat back in his chair and smiled in the manner of a wolf that has just harried its prey into a trap.

“I will hold you to your vow,” Erik said softly.

Amber let out a long breath and relaxed for the first time since she had seen the feral blaze of Erik's eyes.

Then Erik fixed his gaze on Amber and she wondered if perhaps she hadn't relaxed too soon.

“This Glendruid witch…” Erik said musingly.

Breath held. Amber waited. She had wondered when Erik would connect Glendruid with Dominic le Sabre.

And what he would do when he did.

“Do we have one like her among the Learned of the Disputed Lands?” Erik asked.

With an effort. Amber managed not to show her relief.

“Like her?” she asked. “In what way?”

“Red hair. Green eyes. A woman whose gift would tell her to send Duncan out with an amber talisman around his neck.”

“I know of no one like that.”

“Nor does Cassandra,” Erik said.

“Then no such woman lives among the Learned of the Disputed Lands.”

Thoughtfully Erik tested the edge of the silver dagger with his thumb. The runes inscribed on the blade rippled with each motion as though alive, restless.

“Cassandra's prophecy at your birth is well known in the Disputed Lands,” Erik said.

“Yes,” Amber said.

Duncan looked at her in silent question.

She didn't glance away from Erik. For the moment, she was focused entirely on the golden knight who had pulled his Learning about him like a cloak of fire, giving him a power that transcended even his position as Lord Robert's heir.

“Your affinity for amber is also well known,” Erik said.

Amber nodded.

“Glendruid's gift is that their women see into a man's soul,” he continued.

As Erik spoke, he looked at Duncan as though for confirmation.

“Aye,” said Duncan. “They are known for that very thing.”

“Indeed,” Erik murmured. “Where did you learn this?”

“ Tis well known.”

“Where you came from, perhaps. But not here.”

Erik's dark gold glance flicked back to Amber.

“So tell me,” he said softly, “who among the Learned of the Disputed Lands has Glendruid's gift of seeing into a man's soul?”

“I do, in a small way.”

“Yes, but you didn't give Duncan that amber talisman to wear, did you?”

“No,” Amber said softly.

“A Glendruid witch did,” Erik said, looking to Duncan again.

Duncan nodded his head.

Erik flipped the dagger casually, sending the silver blade end over end into the air, then catching the haft with a deft movement before sending the dagger into the air again.

Amber barely concealed a shiver. Like the sun after a winter ice storm, Erik burned.

Coldly.

“Where did you find this Glendruid witch you spoke of?” Erik asked Duncan.

“I don't remember.”

“The Scots and Saxons are said to have a few such women,” Amber said quickly.

The knife spun with lazy grace before Erik plucked it out of the air with a speed that made Duncan blink.

“Simon,” Duncan said before thinking.

“What?” asked Erik.

“I believe you are as quick as Simon.”

Erik's golden eyes became hooded. He slid the dagger into its sheath with careless skill.

“That won't be put to the test,” he said softly. “Simon has left us.”

“But why?” asked Duncan, surprised.

“Simon told Alfred that he felt he must resume his quest. He left immediately.”

Absently Duncan rubbed his body, remembering Simon's blow.

“Despite my aching ribs,” he said, “I liked the man.”

“Aye,” agreed Erik. “It was almost as though you knew one another.”

A chill went over Amber that had nothing to do with the drafts in the room.

“He looked familiar to me” Duncan admitted.

“Is he?”

“If he is, I have no memory of it.”

“Amber.”

Though Erik said no more. Amber knew what he wanted. She laid her fingers on Duncan's wrist.

“Was Simon known to you?” Erik asked Duncan.

Angrily, Duncan looked from Amber's hand to Erik.

“You question my word?” Duncan asked savagely.

“I question your memory,” Erik answered. “An understandable precaution, surely?”

Duncan let out a long, hissing breath. “Aye. That is understandable.”

“And?” Erik prompted gently.

Amber winced. She knew Erik was at his most dangerous when he appeared most gentle.

“When I first saw Simon,” Duncan said, “I sensed danger like the shadow of a hawk.”

Swiftly Amber drew in her breath.

“In my mind I heard voices chanting and saw candles,” Duncan continued.

“Church?” Erik asked.

But it was Amber he asked, not Duncan.

“Yes,” she said. “It has the feel of church.”

“What else do you sense?” Erik asked curiously.

“Duncan's memories stir, but not strongly enough to win free of the shades of darkness.”

“Interesting. What else?”

Amber glanced sideways at Duncan. He was watching her with an expression of growing disbelief.

“Think of the church, dark warrior,” she said.

The taut line of Duncan's mouth was his only answer. Amber took in a ragged breath.

“I gather that whatever happened in the church was a special occasion rather than an ordinary mass,” she said faintly.

“Funeral? Wedding? Baptism?” Erik prodded.

Amber simply shook her head. “He doesn't know.”

Duncan gave Amber a long look.

Subtle tension overtook her, drawing her mouth into a taut line.

“What is it?” Erik asked.

“Duncan resents me,” Amber said.

“Quite understandable,” Erik said in a dry voice. “I don't hold it against him.”

“But he holds it against me. It is like grasping nettles,” Amber whispered. “May I release him?”

“Soon. Until then,” Erik said, switching his glance to Duncan, “you might consider that Amber is your best hope of piercing the darkness of your past.”

“How so?” Duncan asked coldly.

“I should think it would be obvious,” Erik retorted. “Apparently she can sense things in your thoughts that you miss.”

“Is that true?” Duncan asked Amber.

“With you, yes. With others, never.”

Duncan looked down at Amber. The unhappiness in her expression told him that she disliked the process of questioning him through touch as much as he did.

“Why am I different?” he asked. “Because I have no memory?”

“I don't know. I know only that we're joined in ways I don't understand.”

For a long moment Duncan simply looked at Amber. Then his breath sighed out. He picked up her fingers and gave them a kiss. Holding her hand between his own, he began speaking softly.

“When I first saw Simon, I sensed danger, voices chanting, candles,” Duncan said. “Then I remembered the feel of a cold knife blade between my thighs.”

Amber made a shocked sound.

“Not a comfortable memory,” Erik said, smiling thinly.

“Aye.”

Duncan's voice was as sardonic as Erik's smile.

“Go on,” said Erik.

“There's little more to it,” Duncan said, shrugging. “I remember a man watching me with eyes as dark as midnight in hell.”

“Simon,” Erik said.

“At first I thought so. But now…” Duncan sighed.

“Amber?” Erik asked.

“Why did you decide it wasn't Simon?” she asked Duncan.          -

“Because he didn't recognize me. If I had held a blade between a man's thighs, I would certainly recognize him and know the reason for our enmity.”

Amber stiffened.

“What is it?” Erik asked softly.

“The church,” Amber said. “It was a wedding.”

“You're certain?” Duncan and Erik asked as one.

“Aye. The feel of an embroidered shoe—” she began.

“In my hand! Yes!” Duncan interrupted triumphantly. “Her shoe was silver, as delicate as frost! I remember it!”

Tears stood in Amber's eyes, then slipped soundlessly down her cheeks.

“Is there anything else. Amber?” Erik asked.

His voice was truly gentle this time, for he had seen her tears and guessed the reason why.

Abruptly Duncan realized that he was holding very tightly to Amber's fingers.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

Amber shook her head but would not meet Duncan's eyes. Long fingers tilted her face up to his with a strength that would not be denied.

“Precious Amber,” Duncan said. “Why do you cry?”

Her lips parted but no words came out. Her throat was too filled with tears for her to speak.

“Is it something in my memories you see that I don't?” he asked.

Amber shook her head and tried to pull away from Duncan. His hands tightened, holding her.

“Is it—” he began.

“Leave off,” Erik interrupted curtly. “Release her from your touch. Let her find what peace she can.”

Duncan looked beyond Amber to the man whose eyes were like those of his wolfhounds, gleaming with reflected fire.

“What's wrong?” Duncan demanded. “Is it a Learned matter? Is that why she won't tell me?”

“Would that it were,” Erik muttered. “Learned matters respond to intelligence. Matters of the heart do not.”

“Talk sense!”

“ Tis quite simple,” Erik said. “You stood in church with a woman's shoe in your hand.”

“What has that to do with Amber's tears?” Duncan asked in exasperation.

“She has given her heart to a man who is already married. Surely that is cause for tears?”

At first Duncan didn't understand. When he did, he gathered Amber into his arms and laughed. After an instant, so did she, sensing the truth that Duncan had just discovered.

“I was giving the shoe to another man, not taking it from him,” Duncan said. “It was he who married the shoe's owner, not I!”

The wolfhounds came to their feet, threw back their heads, and howled with an elemental triumph.

Duncan stared at the hounds wondering what possessed them.

Amber stared at Erik, wondering why he felt a triumph so great that his hounds cried it to the night.

“YOU sent them alone to the sacred Stone Ring?” Cassandra asked, horrified.

“Yes,” Erik said. “Duncan wants to find his memory before he finds himself lying between Amber's legs. I would rather the reverse were true.”

“You take too much upon yourself!”

“As you taught me,” Erik said softly, “without risk there is no gain.”

“This isn't risk. This is madness!”

Erik turned away from Cassandra and looked out over Hidden Lake and its wild fens where myriad waterfowl glided and fed. A lid of clouds concealed the highest reaches of the fells. Below the clouds, the glen was tawny and black, evergreen and bronze, a painted bowl waiting to be filled with winter.

Though Erik couldn't see the top of Stormhold, he knew that the high peak would soon be veiled with glittering snow. The geese and Cassandra had been right. Winter was bearing down on them, wearing a cloak of icy wind.

The peregrine on Erik's wrist moved uneasily, disturbed by the currents of emotion seething beneath the man's calm surface. Warily Cassandra eyed the falcon, knowing that only his wolfhounds were more sensitive to Erik's emotions.

“This 'madness,' as you call it,” he said quietly, “is my best chance of keeping the southern estates until I can find more good knights to take service with me.”

“Your father has many other holdings,” Cassandra countered. “Tend them instead.”

“What are you suggesting. Learned? That I cede Stone Ring Keep to Dominic le Sabre without a battle?”

“Yes.”

The peregrine flared its wings and uttered a sharp cry.

“What of Sea Home?” Erik asked gently. “Shall I give that to the Norman bastard as well? And Winterlance?”

“There is no need. Stone Ring was the only keep mentioned by the English king—and agreed to by the Scottish king, I might add.”

“For the moment, yes.”

“The moment is all we have.”

The falcon shifted restlessly against the leather gauntlet Erik wore. Wind tugged Erik's rich bronze mantle, sending cloth swirling, revealing the indigo wool tunic he wore beneath. The pommel of his sword gleamed like silver lightning.

“If I hand over Sea Home like a woman's shoe at a marriage ceremony,” Erik said finally, “then every outlaw in the Disputed Lands will descend in hope of spoils.”

Cassandra shook her head. “I've had no vision of such a thing.”

“Nor will you,” Erik retorted. “I will fight to the last drop of blood before I hand Stone Ring Keep over to Dominic le Sabre!”

Unhappily Cassandra looked down at her hands, which were all but hidden by long, full scarlet sleeves. Rich embroidery in blue and green glistened like water threading through fire.

“I have dreamed,” she said simply.

Impatience showed in Erik's glance.

“Of what?” he asked in curt tones. “Battles and blood and keeps falling stone by stone?”

“Nay.”

Erik waited.

Cassandra looked at her long, carefully tended fingers. A large ring set with three gems shone as brightly as the embroidery. Sapphire for water. Emerald for living things. Ruby for blood.

“Tell me,” Erik commanded.

“A red bud. A green island. A blue lake. Together as one. And in the distance, a potent storm waiting.”

The peregrine opened its beak as though the day were too hot rather than decidedly chill. Absently Erik soothed the bird without taking his eyes from Cassandra's ageless face.

“The storm swirled out and touched the red bud,” she said. “It bloomed with great beauty… but it bloomed within the storm.”

Erik's eyes narrowed.

“The green island was next to be touched,” Cassandra said. “The storm surrounded it, caressed it, possessed it.”

Tawny eyebrows lifted, but Erik said nothing. He simply continued stroking the restless falcon with slow, calming sweeps of his hand.

“Only the deep blue water of the lake remained untouched,” Cassandra said. “But it yearned toward the storm, where the flower bloomed in scarlet riches and the island glowed in shades of green.”

The wind flexed, tugging at Erik's mantle and the long red folds of Cassandra's clothes. The falcon whistled and resettled its wings, watching the sky with hungry eyes.

“Is that all?” Erik asked.

“Is that not enough?” Cassandra retorted. “Where the heart and body go, the soul will soon follow. Then rich life might come, but death certainly will flow!”

“The amber prophecy,” Erik said beneath his breath. “Always that cursed prophecy.”

“You should have left Duncan to die in the Stone Ring.”

“Then the bud would never have bloomed and the island would never have glowed in shades of green. Of life.”

 “But that's not—”

“Your dream describes rich life, not death,” Erik continued ruthlessly. “Is that not worth a few risks?”

“You are risking catastrophe.”

“Nay,” Erik said savagely. “Catastrophe is already upon me! My father is so tangled in clan rivalries that he refuses to spare warriors for his outlying estates.”

“It was ever thus.”

“I must have warriors,” Erik said. “Powerful warriors. Duncan is such a man. With him I can hold Stone Ring Keep. Without him, it is lost.”

“Then let it go, and Duncan with it!”

“Whoever holds those estates holds the key to the Disputed Lands.”

“But—”

“Whoever holds the Disputed Lands,” Erik continued without pause, “holds a sword at the throat of the northern lords from here to Dun Eideann's stony knobs.”

“I have dreamed of no such war.”

“Excellent,” Erik said softly. “That means great risk will indeed be rewarded by great gain.”

“Or great death,” Cassandra retorted.

“It takes no prophetic gift to see death. 'Tis the common end of living things.”

“Stubborn lordling,” she said angrily. “Why can't you see the danger of what you're doing?”

“For the same reason that you can't see the danger of doing nothing!”

With a muscular thrust of his arm, Erik launched the falcon. Her painted jesses gleamed and her elegant wings beat rapidly. She mounted the wind with breathtaking ease, riding the wild, transparent beast higher and higher into the sky.

“If I do nothing,” Erik said, “I will surely lose Stone Ring Keep. If I lose Stone Ring Keep, Sea Home becomes as exposed and naked as a newly hatched chick.”

Silently Cassandra watched the peregrine.

“Winterlance will be little better off,” Erik continued relentlessly. “What the outlaws don't seize, my cousins or the Norsemen will take. Do you deny this?”

Cassandra let out a sigh. “No.”

“A weapon has been given to me.”

“Double-edged.”

“Aye. The weapon requires careful handling. But better it be in my hands than in Dominic le Sabre's.”

“Better you had left Duncan to die.”

“Hindsight or prophecy?” Erik asked sardonically.

Cassandra said nothing.

“He wore an amber talisman and slept at the foot of the sacred rowan,” Erik said after a moment. “Would you have left him to die?”

Again Cassandra sighed. “No.”

Erik narrowed his eyes against the brilliant silver of a cloud-chasm where the sun threatened to burn through. The peregrine was well up into the sky, scouting the marshy edges of the lake with matchless eyes, questing for waterfowl.

“But what if he remembers before he marries?” Cassandra asked quietly.

“That isn't likely. The storm is as hungry for the possession as the bud, the island, and the lake put together. He will have her before the week is out.”

Scarlet sleeves whipped in a burst of wind, revealing Cassandra's tightly clenched hands.

“It won't be rape,” Erik said. “In Duncan's presence, Amber burns as though lit from within.”

For a time the only sound that came was the muted rattle of marsh grasses combed by the wind.

“But if Duncan remembers first?” Cassandra repeated.

“Then he will try his strength against my quickness. And he will lose, as he lost to Simon. But with a difference.”

“Duncan will die.”

Erik nodded slowly. “It is the only defeat he would accept.”

“What, then, of Amber?”

A falcon's wild, mournful cry keened through the wind, answering Cassandra before Erik could. She turned, saw his face, and knew why the falcon had screamed.

Cassandra's eyes closed. For long moments she listened to the inner silence that spoke most clearly of crossroads and coming storms.

“There is another possibility,” she said.

“Aye. My own death. Having seen how Duncan fared against Simon, I don't hold it likely.”

“Would that I had met this Simon,” Cassandra said. “Any man who could defeat Duncan easily would be a warrior worth knowing.”

“It wasn't an easy victory. Despite Simon's catlike speed, Duncan nearly caught him twice.”

Cassandra's eyes darkened, but she said nothing.

Erik drew his bronze mantle more closely around his shoulders. Through long habit, he made certain that the folds of cloth didn't foul the sword he wore along his left side.

“If truth be known,” Erik said, smiling slightly, “I'm hoping not to face Duncan over drawn swords. He can be devilish quick for a man his size.”

“You're hardly smaller. Nor was Simon.”

Erik said nothing.

“If you die on Duncan's sword, you won't go into the darkness alone,” Cassandra said softly. “I will send Duncan after you with my own hands.”

Startled, Erik looked at the serene face of the woman he thought he knew.

“Nay,” he said. “That would bring a war Lord Robert couldn't win.”

“So be it. It was Lord Robert's arrogance that caused much of what might come. He is overdue to sleep on a bed of thorns and regrets.”

“He wanted only what all men want. A male heir to hold his lands undivided.”

“Aye. And he would have set aside my sister to achieve it.”

For a moment Erik was too surprised to speak.

“Your sister?” he asked.

“Aye. Emma the Barren.”

“Why wasn't I told?”

“That I'm your aunt?” Cassandra said.

Erik nodded curtly.

“It was part of the bargain Emma and I struck,” she said. “Lord Robert fears the Learned.”

Erik wasn't surprised. The breach with his father that had come over Erik's pursuit of Learning had never been healed.

“Once Emma married Robert,” Cassandra said, “he barred me from her presence. He lifted the ban only once, when she came to me as Emma the Barren.”

“And went home to conceive soon after,” Erik said dryly.

“Yes.” Cassandra's smile was as chilly as the day. “It was my great pleasure to give Robert the Ignorant a Learned sorcerer for a son and heir.”

The smile changed as Cassandra looked at Erik, permitting herself to show the love she always felt and rarely revealed.

“Emma is dead,” she said quietly. “I owe nothing to Robert but my contempt. If you die at Duncan's hands, I will declare a blood feud.”

For once Erik didn't know what to say. Of all the patterns and possibilities he had foreseen, this hadn't been one.

Wordlessly he opened his arms to the woman who had been his mother in spirit if not in flesh. Cassandra returned the hug without hesitation, savoring the strength and vitality of the man whose birth wouldn't have been possible without her Learned intervention.

“I would prefer a different monument to my passing than the beginning of a war only my enemy can win,” Erik said after a few moments.

“Then examine your enemy with an eye to future good. Dominic le Sabre might make a better ally than your cousins do.”

“Satan himself would make a better ally than my cousins.”

“Aye,” Cassandra said ironically. “It is a thing to think upon, is it not?”

Erik gave a crack of laughter and released Cassandra.

“You never give up,” he said, smiling, “yet you call me stubborn.”

“You are.”

“I am merely following my gift.”

“Stubbornness?” she asked dryly.

“Insight,” he retorted. “I see the means to success where others see only the certainty of failure.”

Cassandra touched Erik's forehead with her fingertips as she looked into his clear, tawny eyes.

“I pray that clarity rather than arrogance will be your guiding star,” she whispered.

Distant thunder rumbled over Duncan and Amber as they rode their horses toward Stone Ring and the sacred, unblooming rowan. Uneasily Duncan turned toward the grumbling sound and wondered if the storm would break near or far away.

The clouds that had formed a lid over the fells were flowing lower and lower, dragging a thick mist with them. Yet it wasn't the damp weather that prickled coolly down Duncan's spine. He sensed the possibility of danger, yet all about him seemed safe.

Absently he checked that the hammer he had taken from the armory lay ready to hand.

“Stormhold,” Amber said.

Duncan turned toward her quickly. “What?”

“ Tis just Stormhold purring like a great, contented cat now that winter is on the way.”

“Then you think the fells love the storms?” he asked.

“I think they were born for one another. The storms reach their greatest glory in the fells. The fells are never more magnificent than in the fierce grasp of a storm.”

“Dangerous, too,” Duncan muttered.

The whisper of peril came again to him. Again he looked around, but saw nothing moving except the silent, sweeping veils of mist.

“Danger whets beauty,” Amber said.

“Does peace dull it, then?”

“Peace renews beauty.”

“Is that part of your Learned teachings?” Duncan asked dryly.

“ Tis part of common sense, and well you know it,” she retorted, rising to the bait.

Duncan laughed, enjoying Amber's quickness even though it made him ache to touch her again. Despite his hunger, he made no move to reach for her. He wasn't certain why she had carefully avoided touching him since Whispering Fen, but he was certain that she had.

Smiling, Amber turned her face to the wild, seething sky. Against the violet folds of her cowl and mantle, her skin had the glow of a fine pearl. The deep rose of the mantle's lining was repeated in her lips. When the cowl fell back, it revealed the circlet of silver and amber holding her loosely braided hair.