John Kord stood in front of his mentor’s desk surrounded by the acrid, minty smell of alcohol and brewing potions. He’d gotten used to the odd combination over the past year and a half. Four tables covered with bubbling beakers and flasks sat in front of the back wall.

His master, dressed today as was his habit in a blue-and-silver commander’s uniform, had gotten reassigned after the battle with the Ice Queen’s army. The two of them now worked out of the barracks built just outside the city of Jorgen, the capital city of the northlands. They did their best to reconstruct the damaged limbs of soldiers injured during the war. The slow, tedious work wore on John, but when he restored a man’s hand so he could tie his boots again, or hold a sword, the satisfaction defied description.

Now it seemed he had to leave his task in the middle. John read the message Master Kane handed him for the second time. He’d been selected to serve as Princess Karrie’s personal healer. He was to report to the capital as soon as possible.

It made no sense. John was an inexperienced sorcerer still in training. If Karrie really needed a healer there were dozens of sorcerers more qualified than him.

John finally looked at his master. “Is this a joke?”

Master Kane frowned. “No, though that was my first reaction as well. We have hundreds of injured men that need healing and as far as I know the princess is in excellent health. Whatever we may think, an order from the capital isn’t something you can ignore.”

“What about my training? I still have five more months.”

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Master Kane’s expression lost some of its edge. “The truth is, John, I have little more to teach you. You have a natural gift for healing which time and experience will hone. I’m totally confident releasing you from your training early. Now you’d best pack your gear and get a move on. When the capital says jump, you jump.”

“Yes, Master.” John bowed then held out his hand. “It has been a pleasure working with you.”

Master Kane stood up from behind his desk and shook John’s hand. “Likewise. And don’t worry about things here. I’ll hold down the fort. You just focus on your new patient.”

John left his master’s combination apothecary and office, closing the door behind him. Out in the gray stone hall the occasional groan of an injured soldier in the healers’ ward reached him. His instincts shouted at him to go help whoever was hurting, but he forced his steps the opposite way, toward the little room where he slept.

Halfway there Mary Ann, a cute blond nurse that looked a little like Jen, rounded a corner, her arms loaded with clean towels. She smiled at him over the mound of linen and John winked. He’d miss their banter only a little less than his work helping the injured. Not that there was anything serious between them. A quick kiss and cuddle now and then, to break the tension of working long hours with men in horrible pain. She wouldn’t have any trouble finding a replacement for him.

His room was little more than a monk’s cell. A narrow bed, footlocker, and nightstand with a wash bowl were his only furniture. He emptied his footlocker into a canvas rucksack and was ready to leave. Since beginning his training with Master Kane he’d gotten in the habit of traveling light. He had plenty of fancy clothes at home, but since everything he wore ended up with blood on it why bother dragging silk doublets and shiny boots around with him. That may have to change if he was to serve in the capital. He grimaced, not certain if he liked the idea of getting back into a role he hadn’t played in almost five years.

Perhaps he could focus more on being a healer rather than the son of one of the four generals. Fat chance of that. The moment he arrived there’d be someone hoping to use him to get a favor from his father. Much as he’d prefer to avoid it, politics were unavoidable for him.