Read Online Devlin's Justice by Patricia Bray - Free Book Online Page A

on their luck sleep. And indeed the serving boy reported that the room was empty, and he pocketed Didrik’s coppers without giving them a second glance.
    As soon as the door swung shut behind them, Stephen’s patience ran out.
    “What is going on?” Stephen demanded. “Why did Oluva call you by another name? And why can’t we go to the palace?”
    Didrik dropped his saddlebags on the floor and looked around. There was a long bench against one wall and a tattered blanket hanging from a peg near a fire grate that looked like no fire had burned there for months. There was no pallet, nor any wood for a fire. Barely two paces across, and four paces long, the room was likely the safest place in Kingsholm. For now.
    Taking off his blue cloak, he hung it on a peg. Then Didrik knelt down by his saddlebags and pulled out the set of plain clothes. He placed them on the bench, then sat down.
    “What’s wrong?” Stephen asked.
    Didrik reached back and untied the leather cord that held his warrior’s braid. He began to comb his fingers through the long hair, separating it.
    “I don’t know,” Didrik confessed. “Oluva gave me the hand signs for danger and betrayal.”
    “And she warned you against the palace?”
    “Yes.”
    “She said you had no friends there.” Stephen’s voice was flat, as if with only a mild curiosity.
    Didrik nodded. He gathered his hair with his left hand, then reached down and removed the dagger from his belt. With a firm stroke he began to saw through the hair that had been allowed to grow since he was first named a warrior.
    “In the name of the Seven, what are you doing?” Stephen asked.
    “We need information. If I leave this place looking like a guard, it is only a matter of time before they find me. But if they see a mercenary, I may be able to slip by.”
    With a final jerk of his knife, he cut the remaining strands of his hair. He looked for a moment at the length held in his left hand, then tossed it in the fire grate. They would have to burn it.
    Replacing the dagger in his belt, he tied the short strands that remained back in a simple tail, in the style of a mercenary or caravan guard. His head felt strangely light and he turned it from side to side, wondering how long it would take him to become accustomed to it.
    “They may not be looking for me,” Stephen said. “I could go.”
    “Or you could be the one in danger. Besides, you don’t know who to talk to.”
    “And you do?”
    “Maybe.” If his luck held. If the city had not changed beyond all recognition in the months of his absence. If old loyalties still held true.
    “But what about Devlin?”
    “I don’t know.”
    Devlin should have arrived in the city over a fortnight ago. He’d had a full escort from Baron Martell, not to mention Saskia at his side. And if the Chosen One had been attacked, surely the news of it would have been on the lips of every person that Didrik and Stephen had encountered in their travels.
    Had Devlin arrived in the city only to be dispatched on another errand? Had his duty called him elsewhere before he could meet with the King? What had caused Oluva to give the sign for betrayal?
    Had Devlin somehow been betrayed? But that was unthinkable. Devlin had the Sword of Light, after all. Proof that he was the chosen champion of the Gods.
    There must be some other mischief afoot.
    “Trust me. I will find a way to get word to Captain Drakken. She will know what is to be done next.”
    “And you are certain it is not Drakken herself that Oluva was warning you against?”
    Didrik shook his head in instant denial. The thought had occurred to him, but only for a moment, then he had felt ashamed of his disloyalty. Drakken was his Captain, and she had proven herself worthy a hundred times over. He could no more doubt her than he could doubt the strength of Kingsholm’s walls, or the skill of his own sword arm.
    “The Captain is loyal. I will stake my life on it.”
    “It is more than your life at