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

and watched those who were taking part in the morning drills. She paid close attention to the newest recruits. One in particular showed great skill with the sword, while a deceptively slender man had proven himself so apt at unarmed combat that Sergeant Lukas had already made him an instructor.
    She watched for over an hour, moving among the ranks of those practicing, paying close attention to the newest members of the Guard. It was not enough to put names with faces. She had to know their skills as well as their weaknesses, though the latter were fewer than she expected. Indeed, for the first time in living memory, most of the new recruits were not raw novices but experienced fighters. The King’s edict had drawn experienced provincial armsmen to the capital, as well as veterans who—for one reason or another—had given up their calling. Caravan guards; soldiers who had quit the army after their ten years only to find that the world outside was a hard place for someone without a trade; even a sailor who had lost his taste for the sea. Captain Drakken had been allowed to recruit from among them before the rest were evaluated by Marshal Olvarrson’s command, and those who measured up assigned to one of the newly formed squads sent up to reinforce the Nerikaat border.
    Recruiting experienced fighters meant that she did not have to waste months training these newcomers to tell one end of the sword from another. But fighting skills alone were not enough to make one a guard. Enforcing the law and keeping the peace in the city was a skill that only time could teach, and each newcomer was always paired with an experienced guard while on duty.
    Perhaps sensing her restless energy, Sergeant Lukas invited Captain Drakken to help demonstrate the correct techniques to use when a guard with a short sword found himself facing an opponent with a long sword. She stripped off her tunic, and after a few preliminary stretches to warm her muscles, accepted a short sword and faced off against Sergeant Henrik.
    Their first bout was done in slow time, each move executed to the beat of a drum that Lukas used to keep time. Years of training paid off as she and Henrik held each position for several heartbeats, while Lukas provided a running commentary. Only the most disciplined of fighters could demonstrate in this mode, for it required both extraordinary muscle strength and the control to execute each move precisely on the beat.
    The second bout was done at half time. Still slow enough that even an inexperienced eye could follow their movements, but less of a strain to muscles, and Lukas’s commentary was more rapid, simply naming the moves. “Spin. Low feint. High. Block, retreat. Lunge.”
    By design, that bout too ended in a draw. They repeated the exercise, with Drakken wielding the long sword while Henrik held the short sword of a guard.
    Drakken rolled each shoulder in turn, stretching the arm muscles that had grown taut. Henrik did the same, and then he grinned at her.
    “Quick time?” he asked.
    “Why not?” It had been far too long since she practiced against a skilled opponent.
    “Everyone rise and take two paces back,” Lukas ordered, and the circle of students around them widened, giving them room to fight.
    She and Henrik raised their swords in salute. His sword was only partly lowered, as Henrik lunged forward, seeking to strike the first blow. Drakken had been expecting such a move, and she danced away to her left. She slashed his right arm with a blow that would have drawn blood if the sword had been steel, but after a short exchange of parries, it was Henrik whose sword point rested on her abdomen.
    “Hold,” she called, acknowledging the hit.
    Henrik froze, and then withdrew his sword. She nodded, in acknowledgment of his victory, then turned in a slow circle, looking at the students. A few of them appeared appreciative, but most appeared stunned, for the match had taken less than a hundred heartbeats.
    “What did I do