and Karleah had the smaller tent to themselves.
Jo began gathering the dishes together. “You want to talk about something?” she asked casually.
The wizardess put out her old hand and touched Johauna’s young one. Her tiny dark eyes regarded Jo even more intently than usual, and the squire felt a little chill run down her spine. Her initial impression of crazy old Karleah Kunzay returned-the impression that she might be dangerous. Still, Jo trusted the old woman, despite her odd ways. “I want to tell you that the moon is full, and that I’m going to spend the night meeting with an old friend,” Karleah said.
“Old friend?” Jo asked, confused.
As if on cue, the loan, mournful sound of a wolf howl rose up in the distant forest. Karleah nodded and said dreamily, “That’s him. It’s been a long time. Don’t be afraid, dear. I won’t hurt you.” Jo watched in shocked fascination as dark, bristly fur began sprouting from the wizardess’ face and hands. “One more thing,” Karleah said huskily, her voice deepening. “Tonight might be the night for… truth.” She jerked her head toward the direction Flinn had taken. “He needs you, girl.” The last words were contorted almost beyond human speech as Karleah’s head lengthened into a wolfs muzzle. Her reshaping hands fastened on the gray robes she wore and pulled them off.
Jo nodded slowly at the old woman, her eyes held fast by Karleah’s transformation. Jo felt no fear, only an unexpected sense of wonder as a huge, hairy gray wolf slowly emerged before her. The creature sniffed Jo’s outstretched hand, gazing steadily at the young woman. Then the animal bounded silently into the snow-covered hills. Jo sighed, wishing she could transform herself into a wolf and roam the countryside on such a cold, beautiful night.
Without a word, the squire stood and began walking toward the animals. Jo and Braddoc had staked the horse, mule, and ponies to one side of the camp, with Ariac a little farther away. Flinn always started his watches by checking on the animals, and Jo was sure she would find him there. Beyond the light of the campfire, moonlight guided Jo’s steps. She spotted Flinn standing next to the horse Carsig.
“Hello,” Jo said simply, stepping up beside the knight. Flinn released the horse’s hoof he’d been holding and straightened. “Anything wrong with Carsig?” Jo asked.
Flinn shook his head. “No, just checking.” In the moonlight his wry grimace was eerie. “You know me, check and double-check.”
“It’s the only way to be prepared,” Jo responded. “You taught me that.” She smiled up at the tall knight. Then, slowly, Jo reached out and took his hand in hers. She covered his larger hand with her two smaller ones. Again she smiled up at him.
Flinn brought her hands to his lips and kissed each, once. “Maybe it is time to talk, Jo. Maybe tonight is the night, and saving this for another time isn’t right.”
“Braddoc and Dayin are in their tent,” Jo said, “and Karleah’s gone off for the evening. The fire’s still going. Shall we talk there?”
Flinn nodded, then put his arm about her shoulders as they walked back to the fire in silence. Once there, the knight retrieved a fur from Jo’s tent and wrapped it around them as they sat on the log. Overhead, the white moon and a thousand stars shone. This is a moment I am going to remember forever, Jo thought suddenly. The squire added another branch to the fire, then looked at Flinn.
“I’m guessing you have a lot of things to say, Flinn,” Johauna said softly, her voice trembling.
Flinn took her hand and stroked it for several long moments, staring at its paleness. Then he began haltingly, “All my life I have struggled to uphold the ideals of truth and goodness, of honor and integrity.” He paused to look at Jo, his expression intent. “All my life I have believed in the sanctity of rightness.” The words stumbled from his lips, as if they were long unfamiliar to him. Jo guessed he had seldom put voice to the ideals he held dear. Flinn did so now, and as he spoke, conviction grew in his voice.
“I told myself I had always led a life that was true to my principles-even when I lived as a mercenary. I even told myself that although I had fallen in the eyes of my wife and fellow knights, I still remained true to my ideals.” Flinn paused and gripped Jo’s hand more firmly. His voice was low and firm when he continued. “For a while, at least, I was wrong. You see, I lied to myself. The old ideals were simply that: old ideals-not something needed by me. I never thought of them, and I certainly didn’t follow them. That was a wrong I committed, and I have righted that one. But… there is another wrong I have made that I have yet to right.” Flinn released her hand and put his face in his hands.
Jo touched the crook of his arm and leaned against him. “Go on,” she whispered.
“Oh, Jo,” Flinn cried suddenly and pulled her into his arms. “Don’t you see? I hid my heart from you. That was the second wrong I committed.” For long moments Flinn was silent, and Jo could hear the pounding of his heart beneath the heavy clothing he wore. “You scared me, Jo. You awoke all those old impulses of goodness and nobility-impulses that showed what a lie I had been living the last seven years. You tore through my life like a summer storm through a forest. You invaded my thoughts and challenged my very existence, the very meaning of my life.
“Jo, I lived a life of mindless rote, and I was happy. At least I thought I was happy. I tended my trap lines, I skinned my pelts, I brought them to town twice a year. I was content; I was safe from prying eyes, and I was safe from emotions. But you showed me there was still goodness within me if I would only acknowledge it, if I would only let myself hope. With you I could no longer be the man I had become. With you I was forced to see that my flame of honor still burned. You showed me I was still a good man.” Flinn stopped again and swallowed hard, then continued.
“Jo, you also made me see how far I had fallen from the ideals and beliefs of a knight of Penhaligon.” Flinn stopped again abruptly, and Jo caught the sheen of tears in his eyes. He said huskily, “You will never know how much your image of me meant to me. I cursed you for that image-and sometimes I still do.” Flinn turned his head away, and Jo felt as though someone had stolen her breath.
“Oh, Flinn,” the words escaped her lips. Her voice caught short as she spoke his name.
Flinn wiped the tears from his eyes and looked at the young woman. “You see, I care for you, Johauna Menhir, and deeply. But I shouldn’t and I can’t because of what I am to you: a hero.”
“Oh, Flinn,” Jo repeated softly. “Don’t you understand? I didn’t just worship you. I loved you, too. And I still do.” The knight’s lips moved, but he said nothing. Jo did the only thing she could. She took his face in her hands and kissed him. “I love you,” she said slowly, “but don’t ask me to stop worshiping you, for that came first and will always be there.”
Closing his eyes, Flinn took her in his arms.
Fain Flinn awoke at midnight inside Jo’s tent, his eyes opening and his senses instantly alert. He was supposed to be out on watch, and by rights Jo should be taking over. But this was the night for him to leave, and he wouldn’t awaken Jo. Carefully he rolled onto his side, glad that sometime in the night she had moved from his arms.
The moon lit up Jo’s outline quite well under the tarpaulin. She was sleeping on her side, her back to him, huddled beneath the furs. He wanted to reach out and touch the silken hair that had come unbound earlier in their passion, but he knew he didn’t dare. If he did, he might never leave.
Flinn sighed. Oh, Jo, he thought, I do love you. I wish I could give you more than this one night of love, but I can’t. You have put me on the path to honor and integrity. It’s time I fulfill my destiny. I know where Verdilith is now, and if I don’t go and kill him soon, he will attack us-and you will die, my love. So far the dragon’s held off because he’s afraid of attacking all five of us. But now, now the time has come for me to leave you. I only hope that Karleah is wrong in her prophecy.
Cautiously Flinn slipped from beneath the covers and out of the shelter. Jo was sleeping soundly, and only once did she stir as he left the warmth of their bed.
Outside, Flinn’s eyes adjusted quickly. After the darkness in the tent, the moon seemed as bright as daylight. He located the hobbled mounts and then made a hissing noise to warn Ariac not to squeal his usual high-pitched greeting. Fortunately the other mounts were familiar enough with him that they didn’t whinny or bray.
Flinn loosely laid Ariac’s blanket and saddle across the bird-lion’s back. He strung Wyrmblight across the pommel. Then he picked up the bridle, which he carried separately, using his fingers to dampen the metal bit and chin strap. He would saddle the griffon only after he had put some distance between him and the camp.
