"Now you see why I say she bewitched him?"

"I suppose... but why the bead?"

"Your stepmother knows Ridley wants the Clachan Fala and she is but a lone woman. What if she put a spell on my brother to protect her?"

Fayth looked down, plucking at the rug, trying to hide her annoyed amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Are you saying Mona Graham is not a witch? She is a Musgrave, after all. They are reputed to be the keepers."

"Yes, yes, I've heard all that before."

"Then explain it to me."

She shrugged. "I can't. All I can say is, if Mona really could do magic, she would have turned Ridley, or my father, for that matter, into a toad a long time ago. And if she could bewitch men, surely she could un bewitch them."

"Unbewitch? What mean you?"

"Well, Ridley is obsessed by her. It's unnatural. She has long tried to stop his nonsense, but he only grows more... infatuated with her."

Alex was thoughtful. "Then perhaps she paid him. All I know is they escaped Graham Keep together and neither has turned up. It is unlike Patrick not to visit between wanderings and tell us where he is headed next." His fist closed over the bead. "And this was in her chambers along with his hair and nails. What else could it all mean?"

"How do you know it's a landmark?"

"Have you been north? To the Highlands?"

Fayth shook her head.

"There are standing stones everywhere, more than on the borders. Do you see the unusual shape of this? It looks like a bead, but it's not, it's merely a stone with a hole in it. There is a group of stones, all of them are similar, some with clefts, some with holes. But see the markings? I think it's a marker and the Clachan Fala is buried there. Or it reveals another clue about its location. I would have investigated it already, but then I learned about your betrothal to Carlisle... and well, I had to take care of Gealach first."

Fayth gave him an obscure look. "If there really is a Blood Stone and you found it, Ridley would give you the deed-anything you wanted... in exchange for the stone."

Alex returned her look, frowning. "Just what are you suggesting, la.s.s?"

Her skin was pale from her earlier exertion, but a feverish light-having nothing to do with her wound-lit her eyes. "Go get it! Don't you see? Ridley wants it because he believes it will make him unstoppable."

Alex snorted. "Impossible."

"It is said that the Blood Stone will protect whomever holds it from harm. If you possess it, he could never take your tower."

Alex smiled patiently. "Let's just suppose, for a moment, that's true. It would protect the bearer from harm, but his home could still fall down about his ears and all his men could still be slain before his eyes."

She sighed, shaking her head as if he were thick.

"I thought you didn't believe in it?"

"I don't-but Ridley does. If he even thought you possessed it, he would be wary of you-perhaps even leave you alone."

Alex didn't reply, still fingering the bead. She made a persuasive argument, but still, Alex didn't believe Ridley was that stupid.

She lay back against the rolled-up blanket and closed her eyes. "Think about it, Alex."

Alex. She had never addressed him with such familiarity. He stared at her a long time, eyes narrowed, but she didn't say another word and eventually fell into a fitful sleep.

By evening, the fever, which had abated during the long hours of the day, took hold of Fayth again. Alex himself felt trapped in a nightmare, his mind thick and sluggish. When the howls of wolves filled the night, Fayth shook in her sleep. Wolf returned to guard the cave's entrance, the fur on her neck bristling.

Alex didn't know what to do, couldn't recall how to treat a fever. It seemed he'd once known and the knowledge was still there, hovering on the edges of his memory, just out of grasp. He wrapped her snug in a blanket, then held her when she still shook so violently her teeth chattered.

She woke several times, her gaze darting fearfully around the cave until resting on him. It had been nearly ten years since Alex last prayed but he found the long forgotten words and whispered them until he fell into an exhausted sleep.

0="10"10.

SKELLEY CRASHED THROUGH the forest, spurs digging into his horse's sides when it balked at the terrain. He had Davie, of course, but he'd also brought Eliot and Laine, the former for his sword arm and the latter because, with Alex absent, the lad was like an appendage. Grinding his teeth with frustration, Skelley searched the trees around him, looking for a familiar landmark. It wasn't the first time Skelley wished for Alex's innate sense of direction. To Skelley much of the bogs and forests of the marches looked the same regardless of the weather.

The sky had been boiling with a storm since they'd left Gealach. Skelley had wasted no time gathering everything they would need: food, blankets, fresh linens, water, Davie's wee box of herbs, a horse litter, and two extra horses. It wasn't until they had set out again that Skelley began to worry they might need two litters, for Alex had been unwell when they'd left him.

They'd been traveling one day and so far the storm remained no more than a threat. But now that they were almost there it looked as if their luck was changing. Thunder shook the heavens. Though it was afternoon, it looked more like dusk, but the lightning cracking the sky lit the path ahead of them.

"I'm telling ye," Eliot was saying, as he had been for the past two days. "We should kill the little b.a.s.t.a.r.d when we get there. This whole business stinks like a dunghill."

Skelley ignored him, though Laine gave the one-armed outlaw an angry, tight-lipped glare.

"I'll knock that look off yer face, ye gutless fart," Eliot said, raising his hand as though to hit Laine.

"That's enough!" Skelley shouted, reining his horse in. "The boy may be kin, Eliot."

Eliot snorted derisively. He yanked on his horse's reins, bringing it right up to Skelley's so their withers nearly touched. "What is wrong wi' ye, man? Ye've been with Red Alex, what? Five years? Seven? Every time he gets an itch in his a.r.s.e we've got to take up wi' weans and half-wits?" He waved a hand at Laine and Davie. "He treats his lice better than us."

"If you dinna like it," Skelley said, his fists clenching in anger, "you can leave."

"Aye, so that Hugh b.a.s.t.a.r.d can take me share of land? I think not." Eliot leveled an evil look at Laine. "I canna understand his fondness for laddies. Methinks he's turned sodomite."

"G.o.dd.a.m.n you!" Laine drew his sword and rode forward. "You'll take that back or I'll give you two stumps!"

A smile spread across Eliot's face, but before he could speak the sky sent down a torrent. Skelley adjusted his bonnet so the water streamed off the metal brim, keeping his vision clear. He was profoundly annoyed that the conflict that had been simmering below the surface for months was erupting now.

"Enough of your squabbling!" Skelley shouted to be heard over the storm. "You can take up yer grievances with Alex when we find him."

"We must stop," Eliot said. "At least until the rain lets up."

"What if the Grahams found them?" Laine asked, still wielding his sword.

Skelley gestured for the lad to sheathe his blade.

"Then we're too late already," Eliot said.

Laine's hand still gripped his sword hilt. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Skelley shook his head, wishing they'd shut up and trying to remember which way the cave was. Davie rode ahead, pointing, and the rest followed.

Eliot kept his mount beside Skelley, letting out the line for the horse he led so it wasn't between them. "What if we arrive at the cave and find Alex dead? What then?"