Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart

by Jane Lindskold

  Elise swallowed a groan as Shad politely thanked the porter and said that Lord Rory should be admitted. She couldn't help it. She didn't like the pompous nobleman. It wasn't just that she felt annoyed at how he treated Sir Jared, it was that even to someone with her limited training in the healing arts he was so obviously incompetent.

  Perhaps, Elise admitted to herself, barely competent would be a fairer description. Lord Rory knew enough to act the physician, but Elise thanked her patron Lynx that Sir Jared, not Lord Rory, had been the first on the scene when the assassins had attacked.

  Superficially, Lord Rory looked exactly as a trusted family doctor should. A man in his middle forties, he was tall enough to possess an aura of command, but not so tall as to be intimidating. His build was precisely right, hinting at an athletic youth maintained into his mid-years, but without some frantic attempt to pass for younger than he was. In repose, his face bore lines that hinted at deep thought—though Elise preferred to believe that they indicated a need for spectacles. His hair was heavily, but attractively, touched with silver. He wore no beard.

  Elise couldn't help but notice that the leather bag in which Lord Rory carried his physician's tools was unscarred and showed no sign of having been through weather. Equally, the tools within were perfectly kept—and hardly used. Moreover, they lacked the variety and personalization she had seen in Doc's bag, the sense of items added as they were discovered, tested, and found useful.

  All in all, Elise didn't like Rory Seal a bit, but though she would have been happy to retreat to her embroidery, a sense of responsibility acquired with her field training kept her nearby. It would have been wrong to leave Sapphire and Shad at the Royal Physician's clumsy mercy.

  "Well, how are you two lovebirds?" Lord Rory said heartily, clearly believing that he was privileged beyond formalities—at least in private. Elise had noted, again to his detriment, that when kings or queens were present, he was correct enough that a ruder person than herself might have said he was groveling.

  "My wound is nearly healed," Sapphire replied bluntly, "and I grow tired of staying in bed."

  Shad, who had, as Doc had predicted, actually had taken more damage from the poison introduced into his system than had been initially obvious, said much the same.

  Lord Rory laughed in his bluff and hearty manner.

  "Now it's good to hear you speaking that way, but," and here he paused to twinkle in what Elise found a nauseating manner, "that's for wiser heads to decide."

  Sapphire, who had been wounded before in battle, clearly found this condescension infuriating but she held her temper as befitted the heir to two thrones. Shad, perhaps because longer experience had inured him to the man, did not seem offended. When requested, he showed becoming meekness as he extended his wrist so that his pulse could be taken.

  Shad may, Elise thought, swallowing a giggle, be the perfect husband for Sapphire. His patience has been tested by far more trying people.

  Coming closer, Elise affected an air of maidenly modesty when the time came for Lord Rory to inspect Sapphire's vital signs and the healing wound. He had shown his inexperience before, becoming quite embarrassed when opening the princess's gown to check the slice along her side and into her breast.

  Elise spared him the worst, opening the buttons on the gown and parting the fabric just wide enough to permit him to see the cut. It was healing neatly, helped along by Doc's talent so that the stitches could probably be removed soon.

  Lord Rory, however, barely glanced at the cut, his flushed face and nervous glances in Shad's direction making quite clear that he feared the prince's ire for taking such liberties, especially with his yet unbedded bride.

  This time Sapphire showed no mercy.

  "How are the stitches, Lord Rory?" she asked, her query forcing him to take a longer look and even to touch the healing flesh to either side.

  "They are holding nicely," Lord Rory replied hastily. "Very nicely."

  "And when shall they come out?" Sapphire pressed. "I've had such procedures before and found that when they feel this way they are usually ready to be removed. Perhaps they should be taken out now. Lady Elise has assisted with such many times before."

  Lord Rory stood up and frowned a fatherly frown that held just a hint of a condescending smile.

  "Now, young lady, it is not your place to dictate such important medical decisions. Nor should you put such burdens • on your pretty cousin."

  Elise replied dryly, "I assure you, it would be no burden at all. As Sapphire said, I have assisted in far more onerous operations."

  Sapphire continued pushing her point, speaking demurely, those dangerous blue eyes held downcast and modest.

  "Indeed, Lord Rory, I am eager to have the stitches removed. They are a barrier to my doing my duty to husband and kingdom…"

  A choked-off gurgle of laughter from Shad almost interrupted her.

  "And a princess must not be prevented from doing her duty to her land," Sapphire concluded with amazing steadiness.

  Elise admired how Sapphire managed to look both innocent and powerfully seductive as she peered up at the physician through her thick, blue-black lashes.

  Lord Rory colored to the silver hair at his temples.

  "I do not…" He stopped and began again. "I shall take the matter under consideration," he replied.

  Then, packing the few items from his bag with almost indecent haste, Lord Rory took his leave.

  Once the door was firmly closed, the three let their laughter roll forth.

  "You had him scared, darling," Shad said admiringly.

  "You did," Elise agreed. "I thought he was going to admit that he didn't know how to tell when stitches should be removed."

  "I doubt he does," Shad said, somewhat more soberly. "His position is purely hereditary and I think he has taken advantage of the fact that neither my grandfather in his elder years nor my cousin Valora in her younger ever put themselves in direct danger of injury in battle to avoid learning a surgeon's skills. He has drawn a stipend from the court for feeling the wrists of the queen and her husband a few times a year and praising them (and by inference himself) for their remarkable good health."

  "How," Elise asked, "did his family ever get the position if they have no interest in the healing arts?"

  Shad sighed. "You must have noticed that the court of Bright Bay is far more enamored of titles than is your homeland."

  Elise nodded. Queen Zorana, the founder of Hawk Haven, had been so adverse to titles that she had restricted them, by law, to the barest minimum. Superficially, Bright Bay had appeared to do the same, but during Elise's sojourn in the castle at Silver Whale Cove she had seen that this was not the case.

  "I did notice," she said, trying to stay polite though she had inherited a prejudice against such "unzoranic nonsense," as King Tedric called such titles. "I've met the Warmer of the Shoes, the Keeper of the Keys, and the Holder of the Chalice, along with a few others that escape me now."

  "Those type of titles started with King Gustin I," Shad explained. "He was torn between wanting to be able to claim—as your Queen Zorana did—that our kingdom was starting afresh after Old Country domination. At the same time, I think he was more vain than she was."

  "Differently vain," Sapphire said with what Elise thought amazing fairness given that her cousin had usually wanted herself and whatever she could claim as her own to be the unquestioned first and best. "From what I've heard, Queen Zorana had her share of vanity as well."

  "Whatever the case," Shad said, acknowledging the interruption with an affectionate smile, "Gustin Sailor decided that he could have it both ways. He simplified the landholder titles in a way not all that different from Queen Zorana, but he also added a slew of new titles. Some of these he granted to himself, like Protector of the Weak—which he claimed was forced on him by some of the common folk. Other titles were given to those who had served him particularly well."

  "Like knighthoods in Hawk Haven?" Elise said.

 
"Pretty much," Shad agreed, "but the difference was that while your knighthoods are nonhereditary, lots of the titles that Gustin I invented were hereditary. Apparently, Lord Rory's grandsire, the first Royal Physician, had the healing talent, just as Sir Jared does. The talent, however, did not pass to his children; nor, apparently, has it passed to his grandchildren. To make matters worse, even if it had, the title was worded in such a fashion so that it passed to the original man's heir, not to a logical successor. So even if there had been a member of the family with the talent—I think there was a niece who would have been better qualified than his heir was—the title bypassed the person with it and was handed down as if it was a sack of gold coins."

  "That doesn't seem very smart," Elise said, trying to be polite, "but I guess it wasn't that different from what King Chalmer did when he gave the Great Houses their emblems and names."

  "Gustin the First wasn't smart in a lot of ways," Shad agreed bluntly. "What he was was decisive, charismatic, and clever—but you can be clever without being smart. He saw the titles as a way of rewarding those who had served him well, and of binding them and their families more closely to him. I don't think he worried much about the consequences that might crop up a hundred years later."

  "Like," Sapphire said with a disdainful sniff, "having the royal family's health overseen by a complete incompetent."

  The porter's knock wasn't completely unexpected. Sir Jared also liked to make a morning check on his patients, but he waited until Lord Rory had come and had been given ample time to depart lest there be unpleasantness. Unlike Lord Rory, Sir Jared was warmly—if peevishly—greeted by the bedridden couple.

  Elise found herself wishing that Sapphire reserved for Doc a trace of that courtesy she accorded to Lord Rory. Then she scoffed at herself.

  Silly! Sapphire's only courteous to Lord Rory because she can't stand him. Her relaxed—if rude—way with Doc is her way of saying that she trusts him.

  As for herself, Elise found herself unable to banter along with the others, who were describing—in increasingly colorful language—the agonies of their "imprisonment." She stood by and assisted the physician with his examinations, writing down pulse rates and other such figures, but she found herself suddenly without words. It troubled her, for she did not wish to seem either cold or haughty, but somehow the very ease with which Sir Jared accepted her help left her feeling out of place.

  Elise distracted herself by listening to Sapphire's latest turn.

  "Please, Doc," the princess was pleading, her tones theatrical, "release me from these silken bonds you have placed in my flesh, for they keep me from my new-made husband's side."

  Sir Jared allowed himself a brief smile, gone almost as it formed, and turned from his inspection of Shad's wound.

  "Your Highness would not wish to leak blood and pus onto that selfsame spouse, now would you? Trust me, had we pressed the wound too swiftly, that, rather than kisses, would have been what you would have showered upon him."

  Sapphire wrinkled up her nose in distaste at this rather ugly image, then leaned back against her pillows.

  "Honestly, Sir Jared. The wound feels so much better. Shad turned and let me look at his wound and it isn't even in the least bit angry-looking anymore. If we're kept like this much longer, I'll start thinking there's some conspiracy."

  Sir Jared nodded. "Well, we can't have that. Let me have a look at you."

  Sapphire opened the front of her gown herself, folding back the fabric matter-of-factly. Elise had to remind herself that her cousin was a soldier to keep herself from thinking Sapphire unduly immodest.

  "There!" Sapphire said triumphantly. "Pink and clean and not a hint of soreness. Press harder if you'd like," she prompted. "I won't wince."

  "I'd prefer if you would if there is need," Jared said sternly. "At the least suspicion that you're hiding anything from me, I'd wait. The stitches won't be in danger of becoming ingrown for days yet."

  Sapphire nodded. "I'm being honest with you. Do you think I'm such an idiot as to lie to my doctor?"

  "It's been done," Doc said mildly. "However, my inspection agrees with your statements. The wound is clean of infection and knitting nicely. I can clip out the stitches and report to King Tedric that I think you're ready for action—indoor action, no riding or sailing or such for several days yet. You've lost lots of blood and your body will have robbed muscle to rebuild it."

  From his bed Shad asked, "And me, Doctor?"

  Sir Jared grinned. "I would have given you a clean bill of health several days ago, but I'm not your doctor, nor did I care to challenge Lord Rory. I thought my patient would heal better in congenial company."

  Prince Shad looked momentarily angry; then he had the good grace to laugh.

  "Will you pass on your recommendations, Sir Jared? I'm certain that Lord Rory can be made to think that they're his own if my mother goes to work on him."

  "Very well, Prince Shad. I'll do my best."

  Doc turned to Elise.

  "Would you assist me in freeing your cousin, Lady Elise?"

  Elise longed to say something witty, something like, "If a bold knight like you needs a mere maiden's aid, then gladly, sir," but cleverness escaped her.

  "I'd be happy to," she said, and fancied that she sounded stiff and formal.

  But as always all awkwardness vanished once they were at work. Elise handed Doc scissors and tweezers, holding everything steady when Sapphire—who predictably refused anything to dull the slight pain of the removal—jumped at the tugging.

  Sir Jared distracted his patient by telling a funny story; then Shad leapt in with a sea tale about two men in a small sailboat with an overactive boom. The punch line was predictable, but set them all laughing nonetheless.

  Sapphire inspected the healing incision with the help of a small hand mirror. Then she said in the tones of someone who is trying out a plan for the first time,

  "Elise, what do you think King Tedric would do if I asked him to make Sir Jared Hawk Haven's Royal Physician? I've been thinking that if we did that and if we acted as if the title had been in place—just that no one had thought to mention it to Lord Rory—that would smooth out these matters of precedence rather nicely."

  "Isn't there already a person who holds that post?" Elise asked. "I'm certain I've met him."

  "There is," Sir Jared said. "It's a job, not a title, and the man who holds it is very good. He's probably responsible for King Tedric and Queen Elexa being as healthy as they are. The only reason he isn't on this trip is that he strained a shoulder in a riding accident shortly before their departure and agreed to stay behind because he could ask me to take over for him."

  "I see," Sapphire said thoughtfully. "Let me think a moment."

  After slightly more than a moment she said, "Still, there should be something we can do. Let me write a note to King Tedric explaining Doc's difficulty."

  "I really don't have any difficulties with Lord Rory," Jared protested. "I simply avoid him when possible and humor him when necessary."

  Sapphire looked annoyed.

  "You shouldn't need to," she said bluntly, "not with your talent and your training. Elise, could you reach me writing materials?"

  Elise did so, aware of her own mixed emotions on the matter. On the one hand, she agreed with Doc that he could deal with Lord Rory, title or not. On the other, she would like to see him recognized for what he could do. After all, King Tedric's physician might not have enough time to deal with all the members of the newly expanded royal family—especially if Sapphire and Shad got down to the business of producing heirs.

  Although he never had spoken of it to her, Elise had the feeling that without Earl Kestrel's patronage, Sir Jared would lead a rather hand-to-mouth existence. Knighthoods were nice, but as a younger son of a small landholding family, he could expect little or nothing in the way of inheritance. Official patronage by the royal family would practically guarantee him a thriving medical practice.

  While Elise was musing thus
, Sapphire finished her letter. After sanding the wet ink and shaking the paper, she leaned over to slide the damp missive over to Shad.

  "What do you think?"

  Elise was impressed that Sapphire would bother to consult anyone—another change from the headstrong young woman she had known all her life. How much of that arrogance might have been Lady Melina's influence or, conversely, how much of Sapphire's new tact might be due to King Tedric?

  Perhaps most importantly, how lasting would the changes be? Once the thrill of her new titles and marriage had worn off, Sapphire could quite easily lapse back into her former manner.

  "Clear, concise, and well thought out," Shad said, setting the letter down on the table. "What King Tedric's reply will be, however, I cannot say."

  "Nor I," Sapphire said, blowing lightly on the letter to make certain that it was reasonably dry before folding and sealing it. "Now, Sir Jared, see if you can get an appointment to deliver this to King Tedric in person. If you cannot, at least make certain that it is delivered to him."

  Sir Jared dipped a bow that, to Elise's eyes, was at least a trifle mocking.

  "As Your Highness commands," he said. "Perhaps I should take my leave immediately so as to better effect your wishes."

  Sapphire arched an eyebrow slightly, as if not entirely certain whether or not she was being teased.

  As Doc took his bag in one hand and the letter in the other, Shad said, "And Sir Jared, you will use your influence wherever possible to get me a clean bill of health?"

  "I promise," Doc said, and with a bow to Elise and another to Sapphire, he departed.

  "You were pretty quiet, Elise," Sapphire said. "Don't you like Sir Jared? I think he's quite fine—interesting, intelligent, even handsome if you like that type."

  Elise managed a smile. "I like him fine, too, cousin. I just didn't have anything to say."

  And, she added to herself, I'd better practice finding things to say unless I want to chase him off completely. After all, once we leave this place how often are our paths likely to cross again? I'd hate to lose a friend just because I think I might like him a bit more than just as a friend.