Lines of Fire (The Guild House - Defenders Hall) by Janet Lane Walters Read Free Book Online

boy. Petan’s chest and back made her think of a grizzle.
    Her attention turned to the chain Sando held. Sunlight glittered on metal. Was that a bonding bracelet like the one her mother had given her, the one belonging to a dead woman? As Sando’s patrol walked to stand around the circle, Kalia tried to pull free of her father’s tight grip.
    His fingers dug into her arms. “You will sit below me and see what you have wrought. Your only brother faces death. If he dies I will break my bond to your mother and find a younger woman to give me a heir. By your doing you have set Robec’s enemy as his opponent.” He released his hold and pushed her toward the stands.
    A dozen things she wanted to say bubbled toward the surface. As she was about to speak he clasped her shoulders. All words fled. He shoved her onto the bench below his elevated chair. Kalia stared at the dueling circle. What happened when her father touched her? Why couldn’t she speak? Next time she would watch his lines and hers. If she could.
    The pointed toe of her father’s boot touched her back. Would he kick her if Robec fell?
    Kalia pressed her hands against the top of the low wall. Alric stood tall and faced his opponent. From the gathered watchers she heard wagers being placed. To her surprise, though he faced two men, Alric was favored to win. How was that possible?
    The Left Hand and the Justicar examined the blades of the men. The Justicar wiped Petan’s sword and knife with a wet cloth and dried them. What had he removed? Had Petan poisoned his weapons?
    “Begin,” the Left Hand called.
    Petan and her brother charged toward Alric. For the match, the blades weren’t the practice ones with the cutting surfaces colored with chalk to mark the injuries. The swords glinted in the light from the skylight overhead.
    “To the death,” Petan cried.
    “To defeat,” Alric responded.
    Kalia’s hands tightened on the railing. Was this a death match? Her father’s laughter spoke of his approval of that outcome.
    “Defeat,” the Swordmaster shouted. He laughed. “First blood goes to Petan. Robec, step aside and allow a superior man to end the duel.”
    With a flurry or strokes Alric drove his opponents toward the edge of the circle. Kalia half-rose. She wanted to cheer when she saw the sluggish lines on Petan’s skin. Surely Alric used them to gauge his opponents’ actions.
    The movement of the swords mesmerized her. She closed her eyes for a moment.
    “No.” Her father’s cry drew her attention back to the circle in time to see Petan slash Robec’s thigh. Blood spurted from the wound.
    “Time,” the Justicar called.
    Her father’s scream of denial hurt Kalia’s ears. She jumped to her feet and scurried toward the entrance to the salle floor. Would she be in time to stop her brother’s loss of blood?
    Alric dropped his sword and knife and sprinted toward Robec. Kalia’s eyes widened when he clamped a hand on her brother’s thigh. The bleeding stopped. For a moment his lines flickered before steadying.
    A scream of warning rose from her throat. She shrieked but didn’t think Alric heard her over the noisy chaos. The Healer and several others made their way from the stands. Did anyone see Petan running toward the man kneeling over Robec and halting the fountain of blood?
    “No,” she bellowed.
    Too late.
    Alric raised his head and twisted his body away from the descending blade. He failed. The point missed his back but the razor edge sliced a line across his back and arm.
    “Foul.” The cry rose from the stands.
    The Justicar turned. Several members of Alric’s patrol grabbed Petan and bound his arms behind his back. Cries from the stands condemned Petan. The sound roared like the whirling winds of summer.
    The Swordmaster raised his hands. “Silence. I will judge the matter. Who can say if Petan or Alric injured my only son?”
    Kalia’s hands clenched. Would he find a way to place the blame on Alric?
    The Left Hand strode to the