Read Online [Hurog 01] - Dragon Bones by Patricia Briggs - Free Book Online Page A

clerk.” “There are going to be hungry folk here this winter.”
    I ran my stone over the edge a few more times. I licked my arm and drew the knife along the wet area. This time it sliced the hair off cleanly.
    â€œYes, but Hurog will survive.” I decided to change the subject. There was nothing I could do about the harvest. “Thank you for the clothes. I assume you’re responsible for the Brat’s wardrobe, too.”
    He nodded. “I’m very good with clothing.”
    â€œDid you do the embroidery by hand?” I asked.
    He shook his head. “Magic work. But I do sometimes, when I have the time. I . . .” He closed his eyes. “I often have too much time.”
    I stretched out and threw another log into the fire, which was getting low. Even in the summer, the old stone building got chilly in the evenings.

3
Wardwick
    I was caught in the web I’d spun. Instead of breaking free, I tried to convince myself I was safer there.
    â€œAT LEAST HE CAN fight,” I heard one of the men mutter to another. I couldn’t be sure who it was just from the voice, and my eyes were occupied with my opponent.
    â€œOne on one, when he doesn’t have to remember orders. But in three years, he’ll be giving the orders. I’m gonna be gone by then.” No mistaking the oddly nasal tenor of Stala’s second. In the three weeks since my father’s death, I’d been treated to several variants of this conversation.
    A muttered curse from my opponent brought my attention back to the fight. Ilander of Avinhelle was new to the Guard, and this was the first time he’d drawn me for all-out pairs.
    The Blue Guards drew fighters from four of the five kingdoms: Shavig, Tallven, Avinhelle, and Seaford. If a man lasted a few years here, he could expect to be first or second in any guard. There weren’t any Oranstonians because fifteen years ago, the Blue Guards under my father’s command had been instrumental in putting down the Oranstonian Rebellion.
    Ilander might have been new, but he understood that my aunt had trained me since I picked up the sword, so he shouldn’t have assumed I’d be easy. Still, he’d watched me all week in drills after Stala had announced the participants in the weekly slaughter. But drills were drills, and all-outs were battle. During drills, I regularly “forgot” the patterns, especially if Stala changed them very often. I slowed down and refused to use all my strength against an opponent who was just interested in getting the swings right. Was it my fault Ilander thought that meant I was slow and clumsy? Ilander, who thought that playing tricks on the stupid boy was really funny.
    I smiled at him sweetly as I gave an awkward twitch of my sword in a feeble-looking attempt to parry his deadly slice. It made him look really bad when my parry worked. He growled and swung overarm in the mistaken impression I couldn’t hit his body with a killing stroke and still catch his blade before he lopped something important off—like my head.
    Stala called it with a shrill, two-fingered whistle as soon as the tip of my sword whipped across his belly armor, but it was my blade that stopped his sword. In a serious fight, he would have been dead. If I hadn’t caught his blade, I would have been dead, practice or not. He wanted to continue; I could see the rage in his eyes as I met his gaze mildly.
    â€œGood fighting,” I said earnestly, stepping back and letting his sword slide off mine. “It was good fighting, wasn’t it, Stala?”
    Stala snorted. “Ilander, you’re not a boy. You should know better than to get angry with your opponent. When you’re facing someone who has already proven stronger than you, not to mention faster, it’s the height of stupidity to pull a move like that overhand. You’re lucky you didn’t really get hurt.”
    â€œI’m sorry I made you