HONOR BOUND (The Spare Heir) by Michael G. Southwick Page B

had given it the natural protection that normally came with years of work with a sword.
    When he looked at her he could see the worry in her eyes.  Fear that he would be mad at her because of the pain she had caused him.  Fear that he would agree with Healer Devonne.  He had never realized she was so fragile.  She always seemed so sure of herself, so in control.  He looked into her eyes and smiled in reassurance.  Then he held his hand up and flexed his fingers.
    “That is truly amazing!”   He spoke in a quiet tone, as if sharing a secret with a friend.  “Not only did you heal my hand, you made it better than it was before.”
    “I’m sorry that it hurt.”  Her voice was sincere but sad.
    “I won’t lie to you.  It did hurt, but the results are worth it.”  He held his hand up to her face.  “You do good work.”
    “But it’s not supposed to hurt.”  Another tear trickled down her face.
    Jorem looked at his hand for a moment.  “Would I appreciate it more if it hadn’t hurt?”  He paused and looked up at Jen.  “I don’t think so.  Somehow the pain makes it more real to me.  That’s not such a bad thing.”
    Jen was absolutely silent, concentrating on his every word.  Jorem knew what he needed to say, if he could just find the right words.  “Sometimes things are supposed to be hard, even painful.  If I want something and it won’t cost me anything to get it, will I value it?  Maybe I will and maybe not.  But if I have to work for it or sacrifice something else that I value to get it, then it will hold more value to me.”
    Jen didn’t look convinced so Jorem decided to try something else. 
    “When a person has been injured and then healed what do they remember most, being injured or being healed?”
    Jen thought for a moment before she answered.  “Mostly they remember the injury, especially if the injury was caused by a traumatic experience.  Unless, of course, we block the memory.”
    “You can do that?” Jorem ask.
    Jen just nodded in response.
    “Well,” continued Jorem, “if there is a price to being healed, pain for example, then they have something to associate with being healed.  They’ll remember it longer and value it more.”
    Jen shook her head and frowned.  “All they remember is that I caused them pain.  As soon as it starts to hurt they jerk away.  So there isn’t any healing to remember.”
    “Do you tell them it is going to hurt?”
    “No, but”
    “So, tell them.  If they really want to be healed they’ll accept the pain as the price.  I even bet they’ll thank you afterward.”
    Jen sat for a while before she spoke.  “I’ll think about it.  It makes sense, sort of. But I’ll have to think about it.”
    Jorem wasn’t sure whether he had helped Jennifer.  She hadn’t been her normal happy self when he had left lord Andrew’s quarters, but at least she was no longer crying. He had never thought of Jennifer as fragile. Then again, he’d never thought an adult healer would be so callous as to say what Healer Devonne had said to Jen.  If he had time he was going to speak with Pentrothe about this.  Even the least talented healer should be treated with respect.
    When Jorem finally got back to his room he found that someone had already packed his things.  A pack filled to bursting, along with his wooden chest, was sitting in the middle of the floor.  The servants generally only entered his room to clean and he knew that they were far too busy with their own tasks to have done this.  It surprised him that they had taken the time to do this for him.  Then he noticed a slip of paper on top of his things.
    Jorem,
    I saw that you and Jen were having a fairly serious conversation and I didn’t want to interrupt.  I packed your things for you.  I even packed a practice sword in case you find someone willing to teach you new ways to be beaten.  Dad told me it takes about a sevenday to get to Broughbor so you’ll probably be