Medieval 03 - Enchanted

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 .”
    The sound of footsteps in the hallway silenced the
men.
    “’Tis only Amber,” Meg said
quickly. “I asked her to help me.”
    With a low muttering of relief, they recognized the
golden glow of Amber’s hair in the doorway to the herbal. She
had a smile on her face and a comb set with bloodred amber in her
hair.
    “What are you doing here?” she asked as
she spotted the men. “Surely you have more urgent duties than
chilblain balm.”
    “Have you seen Ariane?” Simon asked
starkly.
    “Not since early this morning. I passed her
in the hall and she told me my missing comb was caught behind the
torn lining of my travel chest.”
    Meg made a startled sound.
    “I went to the chest, and there it
was!” Amber said. “Isn’t it wonderful that
Ariane’s gift has come back to her?”
    Simon was too stunned to speak.
    Erik wasn’t. As soon as Amber mentioned her
recovered comb, a single pattern had condensed from a chaos of
possibilities.
    “Ariane has gone after her dowry,” Erik
said flatly.
    “Are you mad?” Simon asked. “She
is afoot in a winter storm! The cursed dowry could be anywhere
between here and Normandy!”
    Erik’s tawny eyes narrowed as he reassessed
the possibilities that had tantalized him ever since he realized
that the dowry had been stolen.
    Simon started to speak, only to be stopped by a
curt gesture from Dominic.
    “I believe,” Erik said slowly,
“that the dowry went with Geoffrey to the Disputed Lands. If
so, the dowry lies somewhere between Stone Ring and the
Silverfells.”
    “She would have told me,” Simon
said.
    “You wouldn’t have let her go without
you,” Meg said.
    No one said what all knew: Ariane had gone alone
rather than ask Simon the Loyal to leave his lord and brother in
his time of need.
    “Have two horses readied,” Dominic said
to Simon. “You should quickly overtake her. Lord Erik, will
you and your Learned animals accompany Simon?”
    “With pleasure.”
    “What will you tell Deguerre?” Simon
asked Dominic.
    “Nothing. Ariane has avoided him at every
opportunity. With luck, he won’t even know she has
gone.”
    “And if you aren’t lucky?”
    “Ride hard, Simon. I would like my wife to
begin sleeping well again.”

33
    S imon and Erik rode as though pursued
by demons, but they didn’t overtake Ariane. They went as far
north as Carlysle Manor, but she wasn’t there. Afraid they
had passed by her in the night and storm, the men spent a miserable
time trying to sleep while Stagkiller coursed the countryside,
searching for any sign of Ariane’s camp.
    The hound got nothing for his trouble but clots of
ice between his toes.
    Simon was up well before dawn, much to the wonder
of the manor’s small staff. He had little interest in
breakfast, for he kept thinking of Ariane out in the storm.
    “She must be lost,” Simon said
tersely.
    Erik sliced cold meat with his dagger, speared a
piece of cheese and a slab of bread, and dumped the lot in front of
Simon.
    “She is a finder,” Erik said curtly.
“She can no more be lost than the sky can lose the
ground.”
    “Then why haven’t we overtaken
her?” Simon demanded.
    Erik had no answer that would soothe Simon’s
pain. All he had was the truth and a