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“And you, Duncan,” Erik said. “Do you agree to this?”

“Yes.”

The wolf called again, and was answered by the peregrine's high scream. Erik smiled savagely.

“I demand blood right,” he said. “Single combat.”

“You have no kin here,” Duncan said.

“You are wrong, bastard. Amber is my sister.”

A shocked silence spread in the wake of Erik's words. Amber was the most stunned of all.

Erik looked at her for the first time since he had walked into the great hall. Smiling almost sadly, he held out his hand.

“Touch me, sister. Know the truth. Finally.”

In a daze. Amber walked to Erik and placed her fingers on his hand.

“You are the daughter of Lord Robert of the North and Emma the Barren,” Erik said distinctly. “You were born minutes after I was. We are twins, Amber.”

The truth of what Erik was saying went through Amber like thunder through a narrow glen, shaking everything.

“But why… ?” whispered Amber.

Then she could say no more.

“Why were you denied your birthright?” Erik asked.

She nodded.

“I don't know,” Erik said. “But I suspect that it was the price of my conception.”

“That I be denied?” Amber asked.

“That you be given to the Learned woman who would suffer no man long enough to quicken with her own babe.”

Cassandra made a stifled sound.

Erik looked at her for a moment only. Then he looked back at the girl whose true paternity he had discovered when he first had regarded the problem with Learned eyes.

“Is that true?” Amber asked, turning to Cassandra.

“When you were born…” Cassandra's voice thinned into silence.

'The prophecy," Amber said.

Death will surely flow.

“Aye. The amber prophecy,” Cassandra said, sighing. “Emma feared it, and you. She refused to nurse you.”

Amber closed her eyes. Tears glittered among the lashes that rested against her pale cheeks.

“But I loved you from your first breath,” Cassandra said fiercely. “You were so tiny, so perfect. I believed if I could teach you enough Learning, rich life might flow.”

Amber's laugh was sadder than her tears.

Better you had left me for the wolves.

Yet the words were never spoken aloud, for Amber had no wish to wound the woman who had taken an unwanted babe and raised her as her own.

“In the end, my lack of talent for Learning doomed your hopes,” Amber said.

“The fault was in my lack of teaching,” Cassandra said.

Amber simply shook her head.

After a moment she opened her eyes, looked at Erik… and saw her brother for the first time. Tears came again, but differently. She touched his cheek, his hair, his lips, letting the truth of him sink into her.

“The river always runs down to the sea,” Amber said, “no matter how you try to stay its true course. Let it go, my brother. Let it go.”

Before Erik's answer came, the peregrine flew at the partially opened shutters that kept her from her master. The falcon's shriek was as shrill as Erik's voice was gentle.

“Never,” Erik said.

“I don't want you to do this!”

“I know. But it must be done.”

“Nay!” Amber cried, gripping Erik's arm with one hand.

“A gentle, sheltered girl called Duncan's soul from darkness,” Erik said.

Abruptly links of metal chain began to chant of death, sliding one over another as the hammer moved restlessly in Duncan's grasp.

“And then,” Erik said gently, implacably, “the girl gave Duncan her own soul to fill the emptiness in his. For this priceless gift, he would make her a whore.”

Steel links clicked and writhed as though alive with the rage that was pouring through Duncan.

Erik lifted the cold fingers that gripped his arm, kissed them, and stepped back from Amber. For the first time he turned around and confronted Dominic le Sabre. The pin that held Dominic's mantle in place glittered fiercely.

“As you see. Wolf of Glendruid,” Erik said, “the blood relationship is clear.”

“Yes.”

“Then you will grant leave for your vassal to meet me in single combat.”

“Duncan is my equal, not my vassal.”

“Ah, so that, too, is true. I wondered.” Erik smiled sardonically. “You are indeed a formidable tactician, Dominic le Sabre.”

“As are you. No one less could have held three large estates in the Disputed Lands with a handful of knights and the reputation of being a sorcerer,” Dominic said.

Erik began to turn toward Duncan, only to be stopped by Dominic's dry words.

“Your penchant for entering keeps through bolt-holes unknown to others is no doubt useful to your reputation,” Dominic said.

“No doubt,” Erik said gently.

“But there will be no problem in the future.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Your shrewdness didn't extend to letting Duncan challenge you to single combat. You are a dead man, Erik, son of Robert.”

Dominic looked past Erik to the Scots Hammer.

“In so much as you once were my vassal,” Dominic said, “I entreat you to choose the hammer for your coming battle.”

Cassandra's body jerked as though she had been whipped.

Absently, Duncan glanced down at the weapon that was quivering and twisting at the end of its steel leash, eager for the combat to come. Until that moment, he hadn't really been aware of holding the hammer.

“Erik is undefeated with the sword,” Dominic said, “but he isn't known for any extraordinary skill with the hammer. And I need you alive.”

Surprised, Duncan looked at Dominic.

“Without you holding Stone Ring Keep,” Dominic said simply, “there is little chance for Blackthorne's survival in the coming years. Grant this favor to one who was once your lord.”

Duncan looked at the hammer that waited within his grasp, as much a part of him as his own arms.

Then he looked at Amber.

Her eyes were wide, wild, and her hands were pressed against her mouth as though to hold back a scream. No matter who won the coming battle, she lost.

Duncan knew it as well as she.

“While you are considering the matter” Dominic added, “remember that Erik is the highborn lord who thought a man born a bastard had so little honor he wouldn't notice being forsworn.”

Metal links snapped and snarled as Duncan played with the hammer. The people in the great hall were so still that each movement of the chain carried throughout.

“So be it,” Duncan said. “I will fight with the hammer.”

Amber closed her eyes.

Erik nodded, unsurprised.

“Have a hammer brought for me from the armory,” Erik said.

“If you wish,” Duncan said carelessly. “But if you choose to fight with sword and dagger instead, then you may do so.”

A howl lifted beyond the walls, a wolf's throat crying Erik's pleasure.

“Sword and dagger,” Erik said succinctly.

Duncan smiled with feral anticipation.

“Simon,” Duncan said, “bring shields from the armory.”

Without a word, Simon left. He returned quickly carrying two long, teardrop-shaped shields. One of them was emblazoned with the black outline of the Glendruid Wolf on a silver field. The other had on it the silver head of a wolf on a black field.

Two wolves circling, testing.

Cassandra went to Amber while the keep's chaplain shrived both men.

“I would take your place if I could,” Cassandra said in a low tone, “live in your skin, feel your emotions, weep your tears, voice your screams, endure your pain…”

“Whatever passes, the blame isn't yours,” Amber said. “Nor is the death that is gathering like a black river. And like a river, it will flow.”

The sound of Amber's voice made even the Learned woman flinch. Cassandra laced her fingers together inside her long sleeves and gathered what comfort she could from her Learning.

When the chaplain was finished and both men were shriven, Dominic went to Duncan and Erik.

“You have made the challenge, Erik, son of Robert,” Dominic said. “Do you wish to give quarter?”

“Nay.”

“So be it. No quarter given. No quarter received.”

Dominic stepped back with a swiftness that made the black folds of his mantle swirl.

“Let it begin!” cried the Glendruid Wolf.

Erik leaped forward with a quickness that drew a gasp from the people in the hall. His sword swung in an arc so swift it was scarcely visible.

Duncan barely brought up his shield in time. Metal crashed on metal with a force that echoed through the hall.

A weaker man would have been flattened by the sudden attack. As it was, the force of the blow sent Duncan reeling. He went to one knee before he caught himself.

Erik's sword whistled and descended with hellish speed. It was clear he meant to end the battle with the next blow.

Again Duncan raised the shield without an instant to spare. But this time he was braced for the blow. Even as he absorbed it, his other arm moved in a powerful sweeping motion.

The hammer began to sing.

The eerie steel moan quivered in the hall, making the hairs rise on Amber's neck. Though her eyes were closed, the hammer's death song told her Duncan had survived the first, incredibly quick moments of Erik's attack.

Amber's eyes remained closed when metal sounded on metal once more. Just as she hadn't wanted to see Erik's attack, the inhuman swiftness that killed with the speed of a peregrine, she didn't want to see Duncan now, the hammer circling with vicious speed, driven by the unusual power of his arm.

Amber wouldn't need to see either man's death in order to know he had died.

The hammer's song ended with a crash of steel on steel that drew cries and groans from the people in the hall. So great was the impact of the blow that it dented Erik's shield and knocked him off his feet. He rolled aside and leaped up with a quickness that drew a surprised oath from Simon.

The hammer descended again. Erik spun with the shield, giving way even as the blow struck, taking the force from it. As he spun, he slashed with the sword.

Duncan jerked his shield into place, but not quite as quickly as before. It was as though his arm had been deadened by the punishment it had already received.

Erik grinned like hell unleashed. The sword whistled and slashed blow after blow onto Duncan's shield, driving him backward toward a wall. Once within reach of the wall, Duncan's weapon would be as harmless as a handful of stones. There would be no room to swing the hammer if his back was to a wall.

Another sword slash sent Duncan to his knees. The hammer faltered in its song. Erik surged forward, sending the sword in a vicious arc meant to cleave Duncan in two.

Abruptly, the hammer whipped with renewed force—and it came from the opposite direction, less than a handspan off the floor.

Chain wrapped around steel chausses. Duncan yanked, jerking Erik's feet from beneath him. He hit the floor with a force so great his helm flew off and his breath was knocked from him.

With a hoarse cry, Duncan pulled his battle dagger and knelt astride Erik before he could recover. Unable to breathe, much less to fight, Erik looked into the eyes of the dark warrior who would soon kill him.

A mailed fist raised, a dagger gleamed, and steel flashed downward while a woman's scream wrenched the silence.

At the last instant, Duncan turned the blade aside.

The dagger struck the wooden floor with such power that the blade slammed all the way through the heavy plank and broke from the haft.

“I can't kill one who looks at me with Amber's eyes!” Duncan raged. “I give him to you, Dominic. Do to him what you will!”

With that, Duncan stood and threw the dagger's heavy haft across the hall. It smashed into a far wall with enough strength to chip stone. A vicious snap of Duncan's wrist called the chain back from Erik's ankles, freeing him.

Amber started toward both men, only to be restrained by Cassandra's hand.

“It isn't done yet,” Cassandra said tautly. “Now we will see if Dominic le Sabre is truly fit to wear the Glendruid Wolf on his mantle.”

The harp Ariane held sounded an odd chord as her fingers abruptly relaxed. It was the only outward sign that she had been in the least moved by what she had seen. Dominic drew his sword and slid the tip between the chain-mail hood and Erik's chin.

For a long time the two men measured each other.

“I would prefer an alliance to a funeral,” Dominic said finally.

“Nay,” Erik said, his voice hoarse.

“If you die, your father will be stirred from his clan rivalries. There will be war between the Glendruid Wolf and the clans of the north.”

“And the Learned will be first to fight,” Cassandra vowed. “I will lead them myself!”

No one who heard the Learned woman's voice doubted her.

“You will lose,” Dominic said. “King Henry won't let his northern borders go to Saxons and Scots.”

“Perhaps he won't have a choice,” Erik said.

“Perhaps. But Henry has held every bit of land he has fought for.”

Erik said nothing.

“If Ariane is jilted,” Dominic continued, “there will be war as well. Baron Deguerre is a proud noble. King Henry is most pleased with the match.”

Ariane stiffened subtly but said not one word.

“Aye,” Erik said fiercely. “But if you have allies in the north, you might win that war against Henry and Deguerre.”

Dominic nodded slightly and waited, not easing the pressure of the sword point at Erik's throat.

“If you have no allies, you will lose,” Erik pointed out, “for you will be caught between two enemies— me on the northern border and Baron Deguerre's allies on the south.”

“Do you relish the thought of war?” Dominic asked curiously.

“No. Neither do I relish seeing my sister turned into Duncan's whore.”

Dominic's eyes narrowed. “The witch was not without a part in Duncan's betrayal.”

“Losing Duncan is a greater punishment for Amber than you can imagine,” Erik said.

“And you? How will you be punished for arranging things so that Duncan would be forsworn?”

“Watching what comes to Amber will be my punishment. It will be suitable in ways only the Learned can comprehend.”

Dominic flicked at glance at Cassandra. She nodded once, but it was the pain bracketing her mouth that told Dominic what he needed to know. He turned back to Erik.