Carsig neighed abruptly at the sight of the corral and the familiar odor of a barn. Two shaggy shapes in the corral looked up with interest and whinnied in response. Jo saw they were large ponies. Ariac squealed, and the ponies nervously shifted to one side of their large corral.
The top half of the door to the stone house swung open. Jo heard the faint click of a trigger mechanism. In the faint light of dusk, she could just barely discern the forward curve of a crossbow.
“Halt!” bellowed someone from the house. “Who or what goes there?”
Flinn pulled Ariac to a stop, and Jo reined in Carsig. Dayin also halted.
“An eye for a brain, a tooth for a mole, and a dwarf for a friend!” Flinn shouted cryptically in return. Flinn dismounted, and Jo and Dayin followed suit.
The person inside the house paused. Then came a huge roar of laughter, which Jo found almost more alarming than the crossbow.
“Flinn!” The bottom half of the door swung inward and a dwarf emerged, his man-sized body swaying above the stocky legs that carried him sturdily up the path.
“Fain Flinn! Flinn the Fallen! By Kagyar, it’s the Fool Flinn!” the dwarf shouted. Jo felt her ire rise at the taunts she was hearing, but Flinn’s laugh set her at ease. He grabbed the dwarf in his arms and then swung him about.
“Braddoc!” Flinn was shouting. “Braddoc of the Cloven Eye! Braddoc, you sorry dwarf!” Flinn laughed again, and Jo and Dayin looked at each other. Neither had ever seen this side of Flinn before.
The man and dwarf continued to chuckle, clasping hands in greeting. Jo studied Braddoc Briarblood, the mercenary who had cajoled Flinn into joining his less-than-honorable lifestyle. Specularum had seen its share of dwarves, and so had Jo. They were far less colorful than elves and, on the whole, a surly lot in Johauna’s opinion. But Braddoc was different: colorful, friendly, and boisterous. A thick scar cut across one eye from the dwarf’s forehead to his smiling cheek-apparently the mark that won him the name “cloven eye”. The eye was milky with the fog of blindness. Much of the rest of his face was hidden by his beard, which was neatly styled into a single braid tucked into the dwarf’s belt. His long hair was braided, too, though in two plaits. He wore a softened leather jerkin belted at the waist with wide, studded leather. Hammered copper cuffs ringed his wrists, making his hands look extraordinarily large. He wore sturdy bear-hide boots, which covered half of his short legs. Jo smiled; she was determined to like this dwarf.
Flinn gestured toward Johauna, and she stepped forward. The dwarf’s intense, almost avaricious scrutiny fell on her, and she was suddenly aware of the dirt and blood on her clothes and the tangled mess her hair had become. How interesting that Braddoc has that effect on me and Flinn doesn’t, she thought quickly.
“This is Johauna Menhir, my squire,” Flinn was saying with surprising warmth. “Jo, this is my old friend, Braddoc Briarblood.” Flinn smiled broadly.
“Salutations, Braddoc Briarblood.” Jo nodded stiffly. She met the dwarf’s eyes, but he stared silently back. Feeling compelled to fill the silence, she added, “Are you any relation to the dwarven King Aedelfed Briarblood? I heard stories of him while I lived in Specularum.”
The dwarf’s intense expression didn’t fade, though he did lose eye contact when he bowed rigidly. “I’m a poor relation of sorts, but, then, so are many,” he answered. He added formally, “And greetings to you, Johauna Menhir.”
Flinn’s eyebrow rose. “You never told me you were related to the king.”
“You never asked,” Braddoc retorted.
Flinn, glancing at the animals and the darkening sky, hastily pointed out the boy. Braddoc led the three riders into the snug bam, where he lit a lantern.
“You’re looking as fit as ever, Flinn,” the dwarf said, gazing intently at his guest, “though a bit grayer than when I last saw you!” Flinn only snorted as he led Ariac into a stall. He began removing the griffon’s tack.
The dwarf turned to Dayin, and this time Braddoc snorted. “You smell of magic, boy,” he said, suspicion edging his voice. He jerked a large thumb toward a second stall. “Take the mule in there and care for him. We’ll be eating soon.” Dayin did as he was bid, his shy blue eyes wide with curiosity.
Braddoc turned to Jo then, the light swinging and shining fully on his face as he held up the lantern. The dwarf’s blind eye added to the intensity his stare. He scrutinized her from the top of her disheveled hair to the bottom of her muddied boots. Then, nodding, he gestured for her to put the gelding into the third stall.
Keeping his gaze still on Johauna, the dwarf called out to Flinn, “I’ve finished with my washing ritual for the day, Flinn. The girl wishes to bathe now. Do you and the boy want to go before her?”
Flinn turned toward the dwarf. “You know I’m not bound by the old customs, Braddoc. Quit trying to unsettle Jo; she has a perfect right to bathe where men do. Show her the lodge. Dayin and I will bathe after we’ve seen to the animals.” He turned back to the griffon.
The dwarf hung the lantern on a peg, lit another one, and silently led Jo out of the barn. She wondered how such a seemingly friendly person could become so taciturn. She wondered, too, just what taboo she was breaking by bathing before Flinn. They walked past the corral, behind the house, and out to a small building about the size Flinn’s cabin had been.
Braddoc entered the lodge and gestured for Jo to follow. She did so reluctantly, stooping under the short doorway. The unexpectedly warm room inside centered around a large pool glazed over with ice. Benches lined the walls, and a huge brazier stood in one corner. Braddoc hung his lantern on the wall, picked up the wood axe standing near the door, and chopped at the pool. He threw the chunks of ice onto some stones contained in the brazier.
Jo was startled by the sudden hiss of steam rising from the stones. Smoke and steam mixed and swirled throughout the room. The odor was strangely appealing, and Jo guessed Braddoc used a sweet-smelling wood for the fire. She sat down on a low bench in the room and waited for the dwarf to finish.
Braddoc threw one last piece of ice on the hot stones and then walked to the door, obviously intending to leave. Jo called out nervously.
“I-I beg your pardon,” she stammered, “but I’ve never been in a sweat lodge before…” Her words trailed off as the dwarf turned to stare at her.
“That’s like as not,” he said gruffly. “It’s usually a rite reserved for men, but you are Flinn’s squire-” the dwarf’s stare grew more piercing “-and as such you’ve a right to the ritual.”
Jo crossed her arms and forced herself to say, “Will you show me the ritual?”
Braddoc gestured to the pool of water, a bar of soap, and a nearby brush. “You bathe in the spring there, but be careful. The water has magical properties-”
“Magic? But you distrust magic-”
“Aye,” the dwarf interjected, his good eye sharp in the lantern light. “But the magic here is a natural thing, not crafted by humans. It is a magic of the earth, of the waters that lace the rocks beneath your feet, Johauna Menhir. Only those who are pure of heart may bathe in this water-all others are rejected by the spirit of the spring. You will know immediately if you are worthy of her gifts, for if you can’t stand the cold, then your heart isn’t pure enough to receive the sending.”
“The sending?” queried Jo.
“Aye, the sending-the vision the waters may grant you. They grant a vision only once per day, and the waters denied me earlier. That’s why you should’ve waited until after Flinn had bathed. The knight deserves the vision and not the squire,” he said. “But perhaps the waters will deny you, too, and wait for Flinn.” He crossed his arms.
Jo caught herself mimicking the dwarf.
“After you have bathed,” Braddoc continued sternly, “lie on the bench and cleanse your mind and body of all thoughts, all desires, all hopes.” He pointed to the bucket. “Pour water on the stones when you are ready to be purified, and the steam will prepare your soul. If the spirit of the pool so grants it, you will see a vision of the future in the steam.”
Braddoc paused, as if he were about to say something but then shook his head. He muttered, “When you’re through, come into the house. You can help me prepare the meal while the men have their turn in the lodge.”
Johauna was glad to see the strange dwarf turn and leave. She gazed at the pool. “Superstition,” she muttered. The lodge appeared to be nothing more than a purification sauna, something she had heard about in Specularum. “Sweating cleans the skin, not the soul.”
Jo discarded her clothes and frowned at the thought of putting them on again after she bathed. Perhaps when she reached the Castle of the Three Suns, Flinn could outfit her in better clothes, as befitted a squire. Naked,
