HONOR BOUND (The Spare Heir) (6 page)

“Mostly I try to stay out of trouble.  That and lessons on history, protocol and sword work.”

“You mean a prince has to take lessons too?  I hate lessons, especially letters and figuring.”  The sour look on Pell’s face communicated his sentiments even more than his words.

Jorem smiled at the boy’s response and noted the exasperated look on his mother’s face.  Reaching over, he tousled Pell’s hair.  In a blink he could see himself having a very similar talk with Pentrothe a few years ago.

“A friend of mine once told me that if you try to learn how to fight in the field of battle it would likely be a very short fight.”  Jorem paused as he looked at the younger boy.  “I suppose that’s true with most things.  If someone is willing to teach you, you should learn all you can.  Would you want to figure out how to tie a good knot on a boat during a storm, or in a warm room with your uncles help?”

“Hey, Jorem, are you coming?” asked a voice at his shoulder.

Looking up, Jorem saw Jeseph with his hands on his hips and an expectant look on his face.

“Shards!  I completely forgot!” Jorem exclaimed as he got to his feet.  Looking down at Pell he added, “Speaking of lessons, I have to go teach my two left feet to not trip over each other.  It’s been a pleasure to meet you,” he said, nodding to Jafrey and his wife.

Chapter VI

Walking down the corridor with Jeseph, Jorem realized he was actually quite nervous about learning to dance.  Pentrothe had told him about the great balls that had been held years ago and his brothers had spoken of parties at the homes of some of the Lords and the girls they had danced with.  There hadn’t been a ball at the castle since, well, before he had been born.

“Are you sure your sister won’t mind teaching me how to dance?” Jorem asked.  “You’ve seen how graceful I am.  The last time someone tried to teach me to dance, it didn’t work out very well.”

“Who was it?” Jeseph asked.

“Lady Bethesda.”

“No surprise there.  With Lady Bethesda you’d better already know how to dance or be exceptionally gifted.  She has the patience of a fire ant. Breathe wrong and she’ll take a bite out of you.”

“Yeah, well, after a quarter of a mark, she told me to leave.  She said…” Jorem hesitated, “Well, it wasn’t very flattering.”

Jorem didn’t repeat Lady Bethesda’s words but they rang inside his head and hurt as though they had just been spoken. 
‘You didn’t have the good graces to inherit your father’s looks, I thought you might have at least gotten some of your mother’s gracefulness.’
  It wasn’t as if Jorem had asked her to teach him to dance.  When the King had told him to report to Lady Bethesda’s studio he had dutifully gone.  The report she sent his Father must have been awful judging by the looks he had gotten from his Father for the following week.

“Not to worry,” Jeseph said, patting Jorem on the back.  “I told you, she’s training to be a healer.  She has more patience than anyone I’ve ever met.  According to her there’s nothing in the world that can’t be accomplished if a person will just take the time needed to get it done.”

“I hope she’s got plenty of time,” Jorem said.

Jeseph laughed and said, “Relax, it’ll be fine.  The only problem I can see is that she isn’t very fond of your brothers.  I told her that you’re not like them and that you needed her help.  She’s kind of funny that way.  She can’t not help someone who really needs her help.”

Jeseph stopped and opened one of the ornate doors that lined the hallway.  He led Jorem through a small reception room with a small table and a few decorative chairs.  The next room was obviously for entertaining guests and for small family gatherings.  It was bigger than the receiving room, the furniture designed as much for comfort as for décor.  Family portraits covered much of the walls and a large chandelier hung from the ceiling. 

Jorem had just begun looking at the portraits when a door on the other side of the room opened.  He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting of a healer in training, but the girl that entered the room wasn’t it.  She was short and so slight that a strong breeze might blow her away.  She was perhaps a year or two younger than he was.  Her mouse brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her clothing was plain and simple.

Everything about her seemed to be saying, “I’m not here”, but her attitude more than made up for that.  She walked into the room without saying a word.  She walked right up to Jorem, looked him up and down then walked around him as if inspecting a horse.

“So, you’re ‘Prince’ Jorem.”  The way she said prince made it sound like a vile thing.

“Jorem, this is my sister Jennifer.  I fear she’s not very fond of your brothers,” Jeseph said.  “Jen, I already told you he’s not like them.  Now be nice to him or mother will have kittens.”

“I’ve seen what your brothers are like,” Jennifer snapped.  “Those brutes and bullies.  Just because they are royals they think they can do as they please.  One of these days they’re going to go too far and the townspeople are going to forget that the King is their father.”

Jorem had begun backing toward the door with his hands raised as if expecting to be struck.  “I just came to learn how to dance.  If you’d rather not teach me that’s OK.”

“Whoa!  Sis,” Jeseph interjected, “what happened to compassion and understanding?  Did someone put some anger dust in your evening meal?”

Jennifer looked as though she was torn between hitting someone and breaking down into tears.  Instead she flopped into one of the chairs, closed her eyes and shook her head.  She had a look of total dejection about her.

“I’m sorry, Jorem,” Jennifer said, then looked up at Jeseph.  “Healer Rellen has decided to retire.  He’s the only gifted healer here.  How am I supposed to learn to use my gift without someone to teach me?”

There was so much anguish in her voice that Jeseph knelt down beside her and wrapped his arms around her.  That Healer Rellen was retiring didn’t come as a surprise to Jorem.  The man was ancient.  Pentrothe had said the healer was very skilled and could calm a wild cat with its tail on fire.  One thing, however, Jorem was certain of, his father, the King, would not be without a healer.

“Has the King been informed of Rellen’s decision?”  Jorem asked.

“I don’t know,” came the muffled response.  “He couldn’t make Rellen stay even if he knew.”  Her voice wasn’t quite a sob, but it was close.

“No, Rellen has more than earned his rest.” Jorem replied with certainty.  “As soon as the King hears of it though, I’m sure that he will request a replacement from Healing City.”

Jennifer sat up and Jeseph released his hold on her, but remained kneeling beside her.  Jorem felt a bit of envy that the two were so close.  That they cared for one another was obvious.  “
That’s what family is supposed to be,
” Jorem thought as he watched them.

“It won’t be the same,” Jennifer said.  “It won’t be Rellen.  He’s the best.  Everybody knows it.”

“You’re right, it won’t be Rellen.  But you can take what he’s taught you and build on it with what the next healer can teach you.”

She seemed to consider Jorem’s words for a moment.  “How long do you think it will take the King to get a healer to come?”

Jorem snorted.  “Knowing Father, he’ll have a rider on the way in less than a mark from the time he hears!”

“The captain of the guard has his evening review with the chancellor shortly,” Jeseph said as he stood up.  “I think I’ll have a word with him before he goes.”

“Would you?” Jennifer asked, trying not to plead.

“Of course. Just promise not to hurt Jorem while I’m away.”

Jeseph reached down and tousled Jennifer’s hair.  Turning he began to walk toward the door.  When he passed Jorem, he turned and looked back at his sister.

“A word of warning,” he whispered loud enough for only Jorem to hear.  “She is my sister and I’m very protective of her. What’s more, to know how to put a person back together, a healer has to know how to take them apart.”

Jorem grinned back at him.  “Have you always been so good at building self-confidence in others?  I’m just hoping she doesn’t make me look as foolish as you did this morning.”  As Jeseph hurried out the door Jennifer stood and walked toward Jorem,  “Shall we begin then?” she asked.

Compared to weapons practice, learning to dance was pure torture.  When he had accidentally struck Jeseph with the wooden sword, Jeseph had given him a look of disgust or hit him back.  With Jennifer, whenever he missed a step, invariably he stepped on her foot.

Jorem was so self-conscious of his mistakes that whenever Jennifer winced from being trodden upon he would jerk back.  Mostly this just caused him to stumble or trip and fall.  Occasionally they both ended up in a heap of tangled arms and legs.  The harder Jorem tried, the worse it got.  Before a full candle mark had passed, Jennifer called a halt.  She sat down and removed the delicate slippers she had been wearing from her feet.  There were nearly as many scuff marks on the tops of the slippers as there were on the bottoms.

“I’m really sorry,” Jorem started saying.

“It’s ok,” Jennifer said as she rubbed her feet.  “Healer Rellen is always telling me that pain is just the body’s way of letting you know that you are still alive.  I’ll be fine, but next time I’m wearing shoes with hardened toes.”

“Next time?”  Jorem asked in disbelief.  “You mean you’ll keep teaching me?”

Jennifer looked at Jorem and tilted her head to the side.  “Jeseph’s right.  You’re not at all like your brothers.  Are you sure you’re from the same family?”

“The more I learn of my brothers the more I ask myself that very question.  More often than not, I wish I could live a different life.”  Jorem’s last words were almost a whisper.

“I like to finish the things I start,” Jennifer said.  “Besides, it’s nice to be the teacher for a change.  We can only have lessons once or twice a week because of all the time I have to spend with the medics.  How about the second day of the week, and maybe the fourth or fifth day if I can?”

“That would be great, I mean, if you’re sure.  You can’t have a lot of spare time as a healer.  I read an old chronicle that said a healer’s time is more precious than coin.”

“I’m not a healer yet,” she said with a laugh, but the sparkle in her eye told Jorem that she appreciated his remark.  “Besides, three or four days should be plenty of time for my toes to recover.”

Jorem’s face reddened at the reminder.  From the grin on her face he knew that she was just teasing him.  It was still embarrassing even though it was just the two of them.  That thought quickly led to another.

“Are your parents going to mind you spending time with me?” he asked.

Jennifer’s cheeks reddened slightly.  “Actually, that’s what I’m getting out of this.  Mother is constantly nattering at me about spending all of my time elbow deep in blood and gore when there are so many eligible boys around.  I’m training to be a healer.  I don’t have time for boys.

“So if I spend some time with you and let Mother think that we’re friends, she’ll stop bothering me.  You don’t mind, do you?”

It was obvious that she was embarrassed to admit that she was using him.  Oddly enough, it didn’t bother him at all.  He stood up and turned toward her and held out his hand.

“I’d like to be your friend,” he said earnestly.

“Just friends,” Jennifer stated.

“Just friends.”  Jorem grinned and shook her hand to cement the deal.

Chapter VII

“KEEP YOUR SWORD UP!”
the weapons master bellowed.

Sweat ran down Jorem’s face as he brushed the hair out of his eyes.  For three months he had been training and still the wooden sword felt like a lead weight in his hands.  The dance lessons had helped and he seldom tripped any more, but his sword work had stagnated.

Gregorio was getting frustrated and often grumbled about Jorem’s lack of strength and stamina.  Jorem tried, he really tried. But after the first few minutes of practice the tip of the weighted wooden sword would start to droop. The harder he tried to keep it from happening the worse it got.  He had suggested using a lighter sword but Gregorio had rejected the idea.

“You can’t always choose your weapon.” The weapons master had responded.  “You have to be able to use what comes to hand.”

The weapons master stood contemplating Jorem for a moment.  “Perhaps this is not so much a problem with the body as it is a problem with the mind.”  He began pacing in front of Jorem, hands behind his back.  “Let us change the situation a bit and see what happens.”

Gregorio turned and strode over to a pair of men and began talking to one of them with an occasional glance back at Jorem.  After a moment he returned with one of the men following him.

“Jorem, this is Trenton.  He is perhaps one of the best swordsmen I have ever taught.  I want you to spar with him today.”

The look of bafflement on Jorem’s face prompted the weapons master to explain.  “I’m going to have you work with live steel.  I don’t want you or your opponent to be injured so I’m pairing you up with one of the best.  Now, get your sword and lets give it a go.”

Both Jorem and Trenton walked to the stand near the door where personal swords were left during practice.  Jorem drew his sword from its scabbard.  The ornate gems in the grip felt cool as they bit into the palm of his hand.  The light gleamed off of the length of the blade.  When Jorem turned back to the room the floor was empty.  All the others were at the far end of the room looking at him expectantly.  Jorem’s feet refused to move.  Did everyone want to see him be humiliated?

Trenton noticed his hesitation and the focus of his attention.  “When there is live steel in play only those in the bout are allowed on the floor.  Fewer distractions help to reduce mistakes.”

Still nervous, especially with everyone watching him, Jorem quipped, “I thought it was so that if I slipped and accidentally skewered you or myself the story tellers would have more witnesses for details.”

Trenton grinned and looked at Jorem.  “You forget, I’ve seen you with a sword.  If you get a touch on me I deserve a scar or two.  Just keep the pointy end toward me and away from yourself.”