Read HONOR BOUND (The Spare Heir) Online
Authors: Michael G. Southwick
HONOR BOUND (The Spare Heir) (25 page)
Pentrothe was, in fact, the only person who had written to him. The letters had all been short, sometimes no more that a few sentences, but at least he’d written. The last letter had weighed heavily in Jorem’s decision to stay in Broughbor. The wizard had written that he was going to Dawnsword to help Lady Zensa with something and would likely be there for some time.
What would be the point of going back to the capitol if Pentrothe wasn’t there? He had to admit that it would be good to see Jen and Jeseph, but he could hardly spend all of his time with them. So he had decided to stay in Broughbor. He was certain that he could stay at the inn for as long as he liked. All he had to do now was to decide just what he was going to do while he was here.
The first thing he decided was that he couldn’t stay here as Prince Jorem. One thing he had learned was that people treated him differently when they knew his father was the King. To that end, he had decided to cut his hair to the short bristle length worn by most of the fighting men that he had met. He had started cutting it himself and quickly realized he needed help. Somehow his hands got confused as he looked at himself in the mirror.
Jorem had asked Linda to cut his hair last night after the evening meal. She hadn’t been happy about it, saying that it was a shame to cut off such lovely hair. When she had finished she had frowned deeply and said no one would recognize him. As soon as she had said that he knew it had been the right choice. He’d asked her to have Biorne and all of the workers at the inn meet him in the kitchen. He would need their cooperation if his plans were going to work.
As soon as all of them had entered the kitchen Jorem had laid it out for them. He had told them that Jorem would be leaving to stay in the keep with the Duke and that Rim would be staying at the inn for a while. Some had caught on quickly while others had needed a bit more explaining. Not all of them understood why he would want to be someone other than a prince, but they all agreed to abide by his decision. Oddly enough, he found that they considered him to be a friend.
So now here he was, letter in hand, walking down the hallway to the common room as Rim. Having his neck and ears exposed gave him a strange hyper-awareness of things around him. As he entered the common room he noticed that his usual table was vacant. He chose a different table so as not to invite speculation. The table he chose was also a corner table out of the main area of the room.
There were quite a few people in the room, mostly soldiers and mercenaries. From what Biorne had told him, the Duke was increasing the size of his guard to help quell fears after the raid by the Folk. Jorem understood the thinking behind this plan, but he also knew that a show of force against the Folk would do little good. If anything, it would tempt the Folk to come more often. Their motives were far different than those of the people in the Kingdom.
As Jorem sat at his table enjoying his noon meal, he watched those about him and listened to their chatter. It was quite pleasant just sitting there, hearing the soft murmur of voices punctuated by the occasional clinking of mugs and tableware. The servers bustled about ensuring that everyone was seen to. The sun streamed in through the windows, revealing dust motes floating in the air. He had nothing to do and nowhere to go. He tried to relax, but after working day in and day out for so long he was restless to be doing something.
The conversation in the room suddenly quieted as the door opened and closed. A tall slim figure entered the room and walked to the counter. Jorem had seen quite a few female mercenaries before, but this one was very different from those. She stood straight and tall, her sandy hair cropped short, not much longer than his. She was clad in dusty, gray leather that hugged her skin like a glove. As she crossed the room she seemed to blend with the shadows like a chameleon.
Normally when an attractive female entered the inn there were at least a few catcalls and whistles. There was none of that this time. Jorem looked about the room to find that no eyes followed this woman. Most of the men, in fact, were studiously looking the other way. Looking closer at the woman gave no clue for this behavior. She was indeed quite attractive. Her face was almost delicate in appearance. With an impassive expression, she looked around the room. Her sky blue eyes took note of each individual in the room.
“I have need of a sparring partner.” Her clear voice resonated through the room.
Her tone was one used to command, clear and crisp. It was quite common for soldiers and mercenaries alike to call for sparring partners at the inn. It gave them a chance to learn new skills and to hone old ones. There was a cleared area between the stables and the inn that gave ample room for sparring. Jorem had seldom had time to watch the sparring but he had seen them at it several times. There was always someone willing to get in some practice.
Not so this time. No one spoke. No one even looked in her direction. More than a few actually hunkered down over their tables in hopes of going unnoticed. Looking back and forth at the strange behavior of the warriors in the room, Jorem shook his head. It had been nearly a year since he had practiced with a sword. There was no doubt in his mind that he could use some practice. If no one else was going to take up the opportunity to practice, he decided that he would.
Quietly, Jorem stood and waved the woman over to his table. Her eyes locked on him but she made no move to join him. She looked him up and down as if she were examining a suspect horse. Raising an eyebrow, she looked around the room once more. Jorem got the distinct impression that she was looking for someone or something better. No one else volunteered. It seemed that she had little choice in the matter.
Without changing her expression, she looked at Jorem and nodded her head. “Half a mark from now, behind the inn.”
Without another word the woman turned and left the inn. Those in the room let out a collective sigh as the door closed. A burly mercenary sitting at a table next to Jorem’s leaned over and squinted his eyes at him.
“Hope you have a sevenday or two with nothin’ to do,” the mercenary said. At Jorem’s confused look, he continued. “Neth there is the fastest, meanest critter that ever laid hands on a blade. Trouble is, she don’t hold back, even when she’s a practicin’. She’s put more’n one feller in the healin’ tent from her idea of practicin’. Luck to ya lad.”
“Well I was looking for something to keep me busy”,
Jorem thought as he went to his room to get ready for a new adventure.
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