She put out her open palm again, and narrowed her brows.
“A bit o’ gold from him, and a bit o’ gold from you. Place it in my hand, and I’ll tell your fortunes true.”
She chanted the rhyme, as if she’d said it a thousand times. After a heartbeat, she shook her wrinkled hand again for emphasis.
Hyden was about to turn and walk away, but Gerard surprised him by dropping two golden lions into her hand. He turned and looked at his little brother. They shared a look of anticipation and giddy fear that both of them knew well. Many times, in the mountains, while climbing a risky ledge or back in the village waiting for the giantess Berda to tell them a tale, they had shared the same wide-eyed expression of coming excitement. Gerard’s unease was forced away by the anticipation that Hyden’s gaze instilled in him. It was as if that look alone left no doubt in either of them that something extraordinary was about to take place.
“Come in, come in.” The old woman urged.
She stepped to the side and held the tattered tent flap open for them. A single candle flame, wavering from a low table, provided just enough light to see by. Off to one side of the space there was a sleeping mat, and next to it a small iron pot full of various cooking utensils. Most of the ground was covered by an ancient carpet, making it appear like there was actually a floor. At the center of the carpet sat a plate with several unlit candles melted onto it. In the middle of the plate, was a shallow bowl, full of the bones of a small animal – a rabbit or possibly a squirrel. There was a sweet musty stench in the tent, the smell of meat, just as it’s beginning to spoil, mingled with the oniony smell of sweat.
The light from the lanterns and torches outside disappeared when the woman closed the tent’s flap. The single candle struggled to illuminate the space. The old crone hurried around the boys and used the candle’s flame to light the wicks of those on the floor.
“Sit. Sit.” She kindly persuaded.
As they squatted down, and sat cross legged beside each other, Hyden realized that she couldn’t actually be blind to do all these things so proficiently. Could she? At the moment, she was lifting up her bedroll and pulling out a foot long roll of cloth. She brought it with her when she came and joined them around the plate full of candles. She squatted down across from them with the plate and bowl before her.
Both boys were full of excitement, and more than a little trepidation, but they wiggled themselves comfortable. Hyden ended up at her right hand side, and Gerard, fidgety and grinning, was at her left.
She unrolled the cloth onto the rug, revealing a long, sharp dagger, with a big yellow jewel mounted in its hilt. The candlelight reflected off the well kept steel and filled the precious gem with sparkling glimmers. Gerard took one look at the blade and grimaced at Hyden fearfully. The old crone hadn’t bothered to look up from her lap, but responded to his unease as if she could see his expression.
“Only one drop of blood, little brother,” She chuckled. “That’s all it’ll take.”
Gerard’s eyes widened. He didn’t think he looked any younger than Hyden. Besides that, she was supposed to be blind. Wasn’t she? To anyone who could see, it was obvious that they were brothers, but how could she tell which one was the oldest? And how could she see through those dead, bloodshot eyes? The thought was as unsettling to him as it was frightening.
Hyden was no more comfortable than his younger sibling. Since they had been in the tent, he had felt the presence of a fourth person amongst them. He searched the little area with his eyes, and saw nothing that could validate his suspicions; nevertheless, he felt something there. His thoughts were yanked away as she grabbed his hand, squeezed it, and pricked his finger all in one smooth, powerful motion. He tried to pull away, but with an otherworldly strength, she held his arm fast, until several drops of his blood had dripped into the bowl. He looked at Gerard with alarm showing plainly on his face.
Gerard grinned with delight at Hyden’s expression of absolute terror. It wasn’t often that he got to see his brother in such a state. Even though the sight ratcheted up his own fear a few dozen notches, he found himself pleased that they had come here.