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“In five days I will wed Ariane,” Duncan concluded.

“Nay! I'll not see you live like a man half alive,” Dominic said grimly. “Or worse.”

“You have no control over the matter. You are no longer my lord.”

“I'll refuse to put my seal on the annulment.”

“ 'Tis but a formality,” Duncan said indifferently. “The Church won't care. The keep's chaplain will marry us. I am lord of this keep, not you.”

Dominic opened his mouth to argue further, but Meg's hand on his wrist restrained him.

Duncan didn't notice. He was looking at the amber again, lost in its cloudy depths. Sometimes he almost believed he could see Amber there.

Sometimes…

A peregrine called softly. The trill was too sweet to have come from a falcon's throat. It hung in the air like light made into music.

Duncan looked up.

Erik stood nearby, his uncanny peregrine on his wrist.

“I will match Ariane's dowry,” Erik said.

For a moment life flared in Duncan's eyes. Then it died, leaving him darker than before.

“ 'Tis generous of you,” Duncan said tonelessly, “but Baron Deguerre would go to war if his daughter were jilted by a Scots bastard. In the end it would be the same—Blackthorne lost because of a broken vow.”

Erik looked to Dominic.

The Glendruid Wolf nodded reluctantly.

“Deguerre was furious at having to wed his daughter to a nameless bastard knight,” Dominic said slowly. “If Duncan refuses Ariane, Deguerre will go to war against both of us. And he will have King Henry's blessing.”

“Ariane and I will be wed in five days,” Duncan said. “It matters not. Amber is gone.”

For a time there was no sound but the crackling of the fire and the distant moan of wind. Then Ariane took up the harp again. The tune she played caught the mood of the room with eerie accuracy: frustration and grief, a cold trap irrevocably closing, grinding life and hope between its cruel teeth.

Simon looked from his brother to the aloof Norman heiress. His mouth flattened into a grim line. Then he turned to Dominic once more.

“I'll marry the Norman wench,” Simon said curtly.

Though Duncan didn't look up, the harp music stopped in a jangle of startled notes.

“What did you say?” Dominic asked.

“We will present it to the world as a love match,” Simon continued, giving the last two words a sardonic emphasis. “A drawing together of hearts that resulted in elopement. We defied English king and Norman father equally. For love, of course.”

The irony resonating in Simon's voice made Meg wince, but she raised no argument.

“What do you think?” Erik asked Dominic.

“King Henry won't object, for he will get what he wanted,” Dominic said slowly.

“Which is?” Erik asked.

“Deguerre's daughter wed to a noble who is loyal to King Henry,” Simon said bluntly.

“And Deguerre? Will he object?” Erik asked.

“No,” Dominic said, “Simon is my brother and my strong right arm. As such, he is a more advantageous mate than Duncan of Maxwell would be.”

“Lady Ariane,” Erik said. “What say you?”

“I understand now why Simon is called the Loyal,” Ariane answered. “What a treasure such fealty must be, more precious than rubies…”

Ariane plucked two strings. The purity of their harmony vibrated in the room for a moment, then died to a haunting whisper.

“I would prefer a nunnery to the marriage bed,” Ariane said, “but neither my father nor God has seen fit to offer such to me.”

“Nor can we,” Dominic said bluntly.

“ 'A drawing together of hearts…' ” Ariane repeated.

Her hand flashed, her fingers raked, and clashing cords filled the silence.

“Duncan. Simon.” Ariane shrugged. “One man is much the same as another. Proud and cruel in equal parts. I will do my duty.”

“You deserve a better wife than this cold Norman heiress,” Dominic said to Simon.

“Blackthorne deserves better than war, brother. And so do you.” Simon smiled thinly. “Surely marriage can be no worse than the sultan's hell you endured to ransom me.”

Silently Dominic clasped his brother's shoulder.

“I will do what I can to sweeten your life,” Dominic said simply. “I had hoped for a better match for you.”

“You'll find none richer nor more useful than Ariane, daughter of Baron Deguerre,” Simon said.

“I meant that I had hoped to find a woman who would love you as well as bring you wealth.”

“Love? God's teeth.” Simon looked sideways at his brother. “When I can hold love in my hand, see it, touch it, and weigh it, I'll worry about its lack. Until then, I'll take a good dowry and count myself lucky.”

Shaking his head and smiling at the same time, Dominic turned to the one man who had yet to agree.

“Duncan?” Dominic asked.

Duncan didn't look up from the gemstone that lay on the table beneath his cupped hands, shielded from all other eyes but his own.

“Duncan,” Dominic said in a clear voice. “Do you agree to the marriage of Simon and Ariane?”

“Do as you will,” Duncan said indifferently. “Either way, Amber is gone. Not even the Learned can find her.”

“Aye,” Erik said. “But you might be able to reach her, Duncan.”

Slowly Duncan's head came up. Hope struggled against despair in his eyes.

“You are her dark warrior and she is your golden light,” Erik said. “The rowan gave you to Amber and Amber to you.”

The words ran through Duncan like lightning. He stood in a rush, dragging the pendant with him. When the cool amber brushed his hand, he made a sound as though he had been raked by steel talons.

For the first time, Erik saw the dull pendant. Color drained from his face. The cry the peregrine gave was a naked lament.

Moments later Cassandra appeared in the doorway to the great hall, her scarlet robes flying. A single look at the pendant told her why the falcon had screamed.

Instinctively Meg came to her feet and stood next to the Glendruid Wolf.

“What is it?” Meg asked. “What has happened?”

“Amber,” Cassandra said. “Taking the Druid way all but cost her life.”

Duncan yanked Erik around to face him.

“Tell me how to get to Amber,” Duncan said curtly,

“God's blood,” Erik said. “Look at the pendant! 'Tis too late. She is dying.”

“Tell me what I must know,” Duncan commanded. “Quickly!”

“You aren't Learned,” Cassandra said. “The only way is the Druid way, and even I—”

“Bring the pendant over to the fire,” Erik interrupted.

Cassandra started to object, but a glance at Erik's savage yellow eyes stopped her words in her throat. She laced her hands together and let her long scarlet sleeves hide her fingers.

Swiftly Duncan followed Erik to the fire.

“Cup the pendant in your hands,” Erik ordered.

Duncan's breath hissed between his teeth as he did what Erik asked. The amber was cool, but it burned viciously.

“ 'Tis like holding a live coal,” Duncan said in a strained voice.

“Now you know why she left,” Erik said.

“What?”

“ 'Tis Amber's pain you are feeling.”

But Erik's voice wasn't without sympathy, for he knew the pain had become Duncan's also.

It gave Erik hope.

“Breathe over the pendant gently,” Erik said. “Don't blow. Just open your mouth and let air flow out until the amber fogs with the breath of your own life.”

Duncan closed his eyes, grappled with the pain as though it were a living enemy, and then exhaled gently into his cupped hands.

“Again,” Erik said.

In taut silence everyone watched. Cassandra watched the most keenly, for what Erik was doing had never been tried with someone who wasn't Learned.

“Is the amber hazed?” Erik asked.

“Aye,” Duncan said.

“Hold it just above the tips of the flames. Think of Amber as the haze clears. Then tell me what you see.”

Frowning, trying to see past the vicious pain that still burned in his palms, Duncan dangled the pendant just above the flames. As the fog cleared, he saw…

“Nothing,” Duncan said.

“Again,” Erik said.

Grimacing against the agony of holding the pendant against his skin once more, Duncan cupped the amber in his hands.

“Ignore the pain,” Erik said curtly. “She did. Think of the woman who gave you her heart and her body and her soul.”

The amber in Duncan's hands burned so fiercely he expected it to burst into fire.

“Did you give her nothing in return but your body?” Erik continued relentlessly. “Did nothing of you leave with her? Let go of your tightly held spirit. Let it seek her and make both of you whole.”

Erik's words echoed in Duncan's head, drowning out the cries of his body. Raggedly he exhaled, giving the breath of his life to the amber he held cupped in his hands.

“Again,” Erik commanded. “Think of Amber. You must want her beyond all else. Do you understand? You must want her more than you want life itself.”

Again Duncan breathed tenderly over the amber, infusing its coldly burning surface with his own warmth.

“To the fire,” Erik said. “Quickly! As the haze clears you will see Amber.”

Duncan let the gem slip on its chain until it was just within reach of the flames. He stared deeply into the pendant, to the place where shadows shifted and turned. He searched each shade of darkness for Amber, staring at the pendant until nothing was real but the darkness and the elusive fragments of gold…

The keening, questioning cry of an eagle piercing the air.

Mist clearing and re-forming, a dizzying view of hills and ridges, cliff-clinging trees and a glen falling away to an invisible sea.

Over all, enfolding all, the thousand whisperings of wind through an autumn marsh.

She is there, in the heart of silence, surrounded by whisperings she cannot hear.

“… hear me?” Erik demanded, shaking him harshly. “Duncan!”

Slowly Duncan lifted his head, breaking the amber enchantment. Sweat stood on his face. His hands were shaking.

“God's blood,” Erik said roughly. “I thought we had lost you.”

Duncan drew a deep breath. “Amber.”

“Did you see her?”

“Nay.”

Disappointment flattened Erik's mouth. “Rest. We'll try again later.”

“I know where she is,” Duncan said as though Erik hadn't spoken.

“Where?” Erik and Cassandra demanded simultaneously.

“Ghost Glen.”

Erik looked at Cassandra. The Learned woman shrugged.

“We can but try,” she said.

“What do you mean?” Duncan demanded.

“The sacred places accept or reject us,” Cassandra said. “Ghost Glen has accepted no one but Amber within my lifetime.”

“But I went there!” Duncan said.

“Aye,” Erik said. “With Amber.”

Duncan's hand closed around the pendant. Pain radiated through his hand, his arm, his body. He welcomed the pain.

It told him that Amber was still alive.

“I will be there again,” Duncan vowed. “With Amber.”

“Cassandra and I will come with you,” Erik said.

“So will Simon,” Dominic said. “He went to ready the horses. He is bringing Whitefoot, too. Amber will need a mount.”

No one said what each feared, that Amber was lost to them.

“It will be a grueling ride,” Erik said. “Ghost Glen may not reveal itself to him. Or to us.”

“No matter how bewitched the rest of you become, Simon will see only what is real. That is his gift.”

“It sounds more like a curse,” Erik muttered.

A hound howled like a wolf just beyond the keep. A peregrine keened, calling for the hunt to begin.

“Do what you can for Duncan,” Dominic said to Erik. “I value him as much as you value your sister.”

“You have my vow on that. Wolf.”

“I will hold the keep for whoever returns,” Dominic said. “You have my vow.”

“The pendant,” Erik said. “How is it affecting you?”

“It tells me Amber is still alive.”

Erik asked no more. The pale line of Duncan's lips beneath his dark mustache said all that was needed. He had been haunted by what Amber had once said to him, in the golden time before his memory returned.

Precious Amber. What would I do without you?

You would fare better than I would without you. You are the heart in my body.

The memory was even more painful than the searing pendant.

“Take it away from your skin,” Erik said.

“Nay. Pain is all we have between us now. If I deny it, I deny her. I'll not do that again. Ever.”

Simon looked from Duncan to Erik, and from there to Cassandra. No one spoke for many miles, until Cassandra reined in sharply.

“There is something odd ahead of us,” she said.

Erik gazed at the land ahead and nodded slowly. “Aye.”

Without a pause, Duncan urged his horse forward. His eyes were fixed on the ridge that looked rocky and impassable from this vantage point, but had proved to be much easier when Amber had chosen the way.

Just below the crest of the ridge, Duncan's horse balked. He urged his battle stallion forward, but still the horse refused.

Without a word, Duncan leaped off, vaulted into Whitefoot's empty saddle, and went forward again. Whitefoot minced and flattened her ears, but didn't refuse the trail. Within moments she was over the ridge and out of sight.

An eagle's majestic cry came through the mist like a shaft of light. Duncan answered as he had before, the hunting call taught to him long ago.

The eagle did not cry out again.

“I knew Duncan could find the way!” Erik said exultantly. “Learned or not, I knew it! The rowan wouldn't give Amber an inferior mate.”

“Thick-skulled, stubborn, proud,” Cassandra muttered.

“Courageous, strong, honorable,” Erik amended dryly, remembering what Amber had once told him. “In short, a good man.”

Cassandra crossed herself, breathed a silent prayer, and urged her own mount forward.

The white stallion refused the trail.

So did Erik's mount.

So did Simon's.

Of the three, Simon was the only one who was surprised. What surprised him more was that even when he dismounted, he couldn't find the trail Duncan had followed. Mist swirled, lifted, teased, confused, concealed… and Simon found himself back where he had started.