Devlin's Justice by Patricia Bray Read Free Book Online

gate was narrow and Devlin fought the urge to duck as he passed underneath the stone archway. On the other side he was greeted by a woman wearing the shoulder cord of a corporal. Her face was unfamiliar to him, but she was too old to be a new recruit. It seemed the City Guard had begun recruiting experienced armsmen, which boded well for the changes that had taken place in his absence.
    The corporal waited until the travelers had passed through the gate and the postern door was shut behind them. Then she saluted, saying, “Chosen One, I have been instructed to bring you and your companions directly to the palace. The King is expecting you.”
    “At this hour?” It was nearly midnight. Despite the urgent summons, the best he had hoped for was an audience with King Olafur in the morning.
    “I have my orders,” she said.
    Devlin drew himself erect in his saddle and rubbed his face, trying to shake off his exhaustion. His very bones ached, and he had scarcely slept in the past few days. It was no comfort to know that his companions were equally tired. Commander Sundgren and the rest could seek their beds, secure in the knowledge that they had done their duty. But Devlin would need all his wits about him, if he was to speak with the King.
    His right hand gripped the hilt of the Sword of Light, and he felt renewed strength at the tangible proof that he had succeeded in his quest. Devlin was the Chosen One. Mere tiredness would not be allowed to distract him.
    “Lead on,” he instructed.

Four

    C APTAIN D RAKKEN TUGGED AT A BLANKET FOLD that had somehow gotten trapped under her right side. Finally, she managed to straighten the blanket to her satisfaction, but the lumpiness of the mattress seemed to mock her efforts to become comfortable, and with a sigh she rolled over onto her back and opened her eyes.
    The banked fire in the grate provided only the faintest illumination, letting her glimpse the forms of dark objects against the slightly lighter walls. But she did not need to see. The room was as familiar to her as her own quarters. She could not count the number of nights that she had spent on that very same cot, in the small room tucked behind her offices in the Guard Hall. It was a place where she could rest when the demands of her schedule caught up with her—catching a few hours’ sleep after days of alternating twelve-hour watches with scant four-hour breaks. Since her youth she had been able to sleep whenever and wherever she found herself, but for once her long training had deserted her.
    It was a shocking lapse of discipline in one who had been a guard for over a quarter century. She was no raw recruit, too impatient to sleep on the first night before an engagement. She was Captain Morwenna Drakken, who had chased criminals, faced down assassins, and once challenged an angry mob of looters with only her partner to guard her back. And since becoming Captain, she had survived a hundred tricky council meetings and the worst that her political enemies could throw at her. She knew full well the value of having all her wits about her, and once Devlin arrived it was likely that there would be long days and nights ahead for them both.
    Despite that, she could not find it in herself to sleep. Five months ago, Devlin had left Kingsholm on his quest. He had carried all their hopes with them, but now, at long last, he was mere hours from the city. He should arrive sometime today, and if he indeed carried the Sword of Light, his presence would turn the city on its ear.
    She was too old to behave so foolishly, she thought, even as she rose from the cot. Crossing over to the fireplace, she stirred up the fire, adding a handful of kindling, then lit a thin scrap that she used to light the lamps.
    She opened the narrow wardrobe that held her spare uniform and dressed herself swiftly. Sleep was a lost cause, and if she were to be wakeful, she might as well do something, rather than lying in the dark fretting.
    It took only a few