Thornbear (Book 1) (16 page)

Gram nodded, “Yeah.”

“Ye should be more careful with yer words, young Draper,” admonished the hunter.

The captain’s son knew he had made a mistake, and he admitted it immediately, “Sorry Master Grayson, the fault is mine.” His eyes said something completely different when they met Gram’s, though.

The four of them left the hunter and went to look at the big cat. Gram was headed in that direction anyway.

“Look at the size o’ that pussy!” exclaimed Robert, which caused him and Sam both to laugh. It was stretched out on a heavy table inside the wall near the gate. One of the guards told them that they were planning to weigh it, although he was already betting that it was over two hundred pounds.

Gram stood apart, with Perry.

“No hard feelings?” he asked the other, offering his hand.

Perry met his eyes and then took it, “Yeah. Sorry for what I said.” His grip was firmer than it needed to be.

Gram tightened his own hand in response, “In future, if you feel the need, Master Grayson was telling the truth. I’d meet you someplace private, and we could keep it between us, no matter how it turned out.”

Perry tensed, but then the anger drained out of his eyes. “I believe you, but it’s alright. I was being an ass. I don’t know what came over me.”

Gram knew exactly what had come over him, and after his morning with Alyssa he could better understand Perry’s feelings. “She turned my brains to mush too,” said Gram.

The captain’s son frowned momentarily, then smiled faintly, “May the better man win.” He moved to join the others.

Gram left them then, hoping Cyhan wouldn’t be too angry when he met up with him. He was already almost an hour late.

***

Cyhan had already heard about the search for them, and he seemed unbothered by the delay. He showed more interest in Gram’s stitches. “Those look well done.”

“My grandmother seemed impressed too,” Gram told him.

“The girl has more to her than most. You will still have scars, though. You won’t be quite as pretty anymore.”

Is he teasing me?
Gram wasn’t sure. The big man had never made any attempts at humor before. “I wasn’t too worried about it,” he replied neutrally.

“Let one of the wizards see it,” suggested Cyhan. “They could close it, and you wouldn’t have to bother with the stitches. The scars would be smaller too.”

It was something that had occurred to Gram already, but he had discarded the idea without giving it much consideration, though he wasn’t sure why. He raised a hand to his cheek, pensive. “It doesn’t feel right,” he admitted. “I’d rather keep them.”

The old veteran’s eyes watched him, and Gram worried for a moment. Would he think Gram was being vain? Some young men would treasure scars as badges of honor, something to brag about around the fire at night. He might also think Gram was being unnecessarily sentimental. Gram waited to see what the old knight would say.

Cyhan studied him silently for a moment longer and then looked away, rising to his feet. “Let’s get started. I’ll avoid your face ‘til it’s finished healing.” And that was it.

Gram felt a sense of relief. He never knew what his teacher was thinking, but he could feel a certain kinship. Cyhan understood, and he accepted. He rarely gave praise of any sort, but his acceptance was more than enough.

That evening Gram saw Alyssa again, sitting in her now customary seat across from him at the table. She shared a knowing glance with him before spending most of the meal chatting with Moira. For his part, Gram tried to focus on his food, but he found himself staring at her without consciously meaning too. He returned his eyes to his food, but as soon as he stopped thinking about it, his eyes would return to her.

She’s going to think you’re strange,
he told himself. Just then she looked up and met his eyes.

“Gram,” she said, leaning forward so she could keep her voice lower. “Who’s that fellow sitting beside the Count? They introduced me before, but it was hard to remember everyone’s names.”

“Ahh,” Gram struggled for a moment, trying to recover from his embarrassment. “That’s Sir Cyhan.” His answer seemed inordinately brief, but his mind refused to offer him a more eloquent response.

“He looks different—and dangerous,” she remarked.

“He’s from the South,” explained Gram. “That’s why his skin is darker, and as for dangerous—well, he’s probably the most skilled knight in Lothion.”

“More skilled than Dorian Thornbear?” she asked lightly.

Gram frowned, thinking on what Irene had said to him before, then he looked down, “I don’t know, honestly. Sometimes I struggle just to remember my father’s face.”

“I’m sorry,” she said regretfully. “That was thoughtless of me.”

He nodded and returned to his food, unsure how to respond. The rest of the meal was filled with an awkward silence that seemed to hover over him.

When he left the great hall, the familiar form of a certain stuffed bear met him just outside the door. It was crowded with people, so he scooped the bear up and carried her with him.

“Hello Gram,” said Grace cheerfully.

“You’re going to get stepped on like that,” he cautioned.

“It’s the only place I can be sure to find you,” she said, there was a pout in her voice.

“I’m betting you heard about today,” he postulated.

“You’re brighter than you look,” she teased. “Though that was a pretty easy guess. What happened?”

He gave her a brief, almost mechanical description of the events of the day. She seemed very unsatisfied.

“That’s it? What about Lady Alyssa? What did you think of her? She’s very beautiful. Did your grandmother like her? Why didn’t you get someone to heal your face? You’re keeping the stitches because of her, aren’t you?” The questions were coming in rapid fire succession from the small bear.

Gram gaped at her, trying to sort through the verbal barrage. “I can’t answer all that at once,” he said at last.

“You like her, don’t you?” asked Grace, settling on the most important question first.

Gram’s first reaction was a flat denial, but then he changed his mind, “I don’t know. I’ve just met her.”

Grace accepted that, though it was obvious she had her own opinion. “I think she fancies you,” she observed.

“What?” he said, slightly alarmed. “There’s no reason to think that.”

“Not from the way
you
tell the story,” replied Grace, “but I can read through the bland details.”

“Then enlighten me o’ sage,” he remarked, making a weak attempt at sarcasm.

“Listen well then, poor supplicant,” she began, taking on the challenge with relish. “First, the lady sent her companion away, rather than returning to the castle herself, or leaving you to your task alone. Second, she suggested leaving the shepherd’s home, so that she could spirit you away to a hidden location…”

“… now wait!” interrupted Gram. “She didn’t ‘spirit me away’. She was just walking to let the sun dry her dress.” He had left out the details concerning her removal of the dress. That had been too much for him to explain.

“Then why did she want to stop in such a hard to find place?”

“So no one would see her…” he offered.

“…because she wanted to be alone with you,” substituted Grace.

“No, she didn’t want to be seen changing!” he blurted out. “It wasn’t anything like that.”

The bear stared at him, somehow managing to convey her shock and surprise, “She didn’t want what? I think you left something out of your story. Did you do something—inappropriate?”

“N—no!” he stammered.

“Do explain.”

They had already reached his door, so he took her inside to make sure no one heard them. “Will you promise to keep this to yourself?”

She nodded, “So long as you didn’t do anything terrible.”

“Of course not, listen…” He gave her a more complete retelling of his story, leaving out only his thoughts at the time. There was no need to let her know how much he had been affected by the sight of Alyssa’s half-clad form.

“Oh Gram,” she said when he had finished.

“What?” he asked nervously.

“I hope your mother likes her,” said the bear.

“I just met her!” he protested.

“Well she’s already left her mark on you, quite literally in this case,” noted Grace, indicating his wounded face.

“The panther did this,” he countered.

“But you’re keeping the stitches,” returned Grace. “That says enough.” She got up to leave.

“You won’t tell anyone, right? About the dress and…” he said, sounding desperate.

“No, your secret is safe with me, but I’m keeping an eye on that girl,” she responded primly.

He held the door for her since she was far too short to manage it by herself. “Thank you, Grace.”

“Just don’t do anything you’ll regret,” she replied, and then she was gone.

Chapter 14

Matthew met Gram at breakfast and asked him to follow him to the workshop. Once they were alone, he gave him a conspiratorial grin.

“Is it finished?”

“No,” said the young wizard.

Gram’s face fell, “Well, why are you smiling then?”

Matthew sighed, “You certainly aren’t easy to please.”

“I just want to have it back in place before Mother gets back!”

“And then what?” asked Matthew.

“Then I can breathe easy, that’s what.”

“Well, it doesn’t make much sense if I repair Thorn, or improve it, if it’s just going to sit on a wall, looking as if it’s still broken. Does it?” asked Matthew, obviously leading toward something.

“I figured I’d cross that bridge only when necessary,” admitted Gram.

“When would that be?”

“After I’ve come of age?” suggested Gram. “Or better yet, after she dies—of old age, of course! I’d never wish my mother dead.”

Matthew tilted his head to one side, “You do realize your mother is only in her late thirties? You might be approaching old age yourself before she passes.”

Gram rolled his eyes, “And I’m sure you have a better idea.”

“Yeah, but eventually you will have to assert yourself.”

Gram had done that once already, and he still felt guilty for it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hurt his mother any further. “I won’t have any rights to assert until I come of age anyway.”

Matthew nodded, “The good news is I might have a way to get you by until then.”

“What is it?”

“A tattoo,” announced his friend, grinning from ear to ear as if he had just said the cleverest thing in the world.

“I can’t get a tattoo!” protested Gram. “I’d have to hide it, and you know how well I hide things,” then he paused. “Wait, what good is a tattoo going to do me?”

“An excellent question, my young friend,” said Matthew slickly, trying to sound as if he were a sly tinker selling his wares.

“I’m barely a year younger than you,” pointed out Gram.

“That’s not the point,” said Matthew, growing exasperated.

“Well, it kinda is, since we’re both technically young…”

“Listen,” interrupted Matthew seriously. “This would be a magical tattoo, an enchantment permanently engraved on living flesh.”

Gram winced at the combination of ‘engraved’ and ‘living flesh’, it sounded terribly painful. “I’m already pretty well marked up these days,” he said, directing Matthew’s attention to his face. “I’m not sure I need any more scars.”

“It won’t be scars. It’ll be a real tattoo, but I can make sure it isn’t visible, except when you use it,” said Matthew.

“You still haven’t told me what it would do.”

“It will let you call Thorn, whenever you need it.”

He stared at his friend blankly for a moment. “You mean I’d have to yell for it?”

Matthew shook his head, “No, no, you would just touch the tattoo and will it to come to you.”

“Will it?”

“It’s like thinking, but with emphasis. You would infuse a tiny bit of aythar into the symbols, and the enchantment would activate, causing Thorn to translate to you.”

“I’m not a wizard, Matt. I can’t infuse things,” he said before adding a moment later, “And I’m not quite sure what you mean by ‘translate’. Is this something like a teleportation circle?”

Matthew was growing even more excited. “Yes you can! That’s why I tested you before. This is similar to the Sun-Swords. Your father couldn’t use one, but you can. It only takes a tiny amount to start it, the enchantment does the rest. As for the word ‘translate’, I sort of took to using that to differentiate my new technique from teleportation. For most purposes it’s the same thing, but instead of moving the sword from one place to another, it will be moving from one dimension to another. In fact, the sword will use translation for much more than just that; when you give it different commands, translation will be the method used to bring the extra material to you. A teleportation circle, or even a permanent portal would be totally incapable of handling such a task, but using this method…”

Gram began waving his hands, desperate to stop his friend before he drowned under the weight of arcane jargon. “You lost me after, ‘for most purposes it’s the same thing’. Did you say ‘commands’?”

“Yes.”

“What commands?”

“I haven’t sorted all that out yet, can we just stay focused on the tattoo for now?”

“You’re the one who went off about dimensions and portals,” said Gram dourly.

Matthew pulled out a sheet of fine vellum. It was marked with a strange pattern and dotted with odd symbols. “This is the schema. Hold out your arm, and I’ll transfer it to your skin.”

“How much is this going to hurt?” Gram was still a bit wary after his previous experiences with healing at the twins’ hands.

“Not at all,” said Matthew immediately. “The painful part is when we turn it into an actual tattoo. This is just so I’ll have a guide to follow on your skin.”

“I feel much better now,” said Gram dryly. “You promise it won’t be visible?”

“Definitely,” assured his friend. “That’s what these symbols here are for.” He pointed to one edge of the pattern. Then he flipped the vellum over, placing the pattern against Gram’s arm.

“Won’t it be backwards?”

Matthew sighed, “C’mon, Gram. I’m not stupid. I reversed it already, so it’ll be the right way around.” Then he pursed his lips, putting on a thoughtful face.