“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 barn, 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, she looked at the water. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the pool.
The water was breathtakingly cold. For a moment she wondered if she could bear it. But she wanted to prove to Braddoc that she was “pure of heart.” She gritted her teeth and washed as quickly as she could. The thought of plunging underwater to wash her hair made her heart skip a beat, but she longed to be rid of the tangles. Strangely, she felt her skin grow warmer each time she ducked under water. By the time she had finished washing her hair, she felt as though she could stay in the pool forever. But she knew she should finish the ritual so that Flinn and Dayin could bathe. Languorously, she left the pool and poured a bucket of water on the hot stones. She sat down on the bench.
The tension began to leave her body, and Jo felt wonderful. Her eyes began to flutter, and her head fell to her chest. She jerked upright, afraid of falling asleep in the lodge. There, in the swirling steam before her, she saw a faint image of herself. Jo blinked. The image remained, the vapors inside the lodge still swirling around and through the vision. She was standing before a forge, waiting for a smith to pull something from the fire. Her stance was strangely expectant, and Jo felt that same emotion course through her now. What was she so eagerly awaiting? Oddly enough, Braddoc stood beside her. Flinn was nowhere in sight. Then, as abruptly as the image had appeared, it vanished. The steam in the lodge was nothing but steam again. Jo waited for the vision to return, her eyes searching the swirling mists. But the vision was gone.
She dressed again in her now-damp clothing and tied a thong around her hair to hold it out of the way. Jo left the lodge, closing the door behind her. Flinn and Dayin were coming up the path.