Reckoning (The Empyrean Chronicle) by Patrick Siana Read Free Book Online

dress.
    “What the hell happened here?” he asked, addressing no one
in particular, before turning his attention, and ire, to Cormik. “I never
should have allowed you the use of real steel, even with that ridiculous
sparring sheath, Cormik. I don’t know what in the nine hells ever possessed me
to agree to it in the first place, except that perhaps your Macallister whiskey
has dulled my wits.”
    Elias, who watched her with open interest, saw the woman in
the red dress’s face darken at the Mayor’s words. She glared at Cormik, who
ignored her with practiced nonchalance and, with smug expression, offered
Bromstead only a shrug.
    Bromstead made a disgusted sound in his throat and shook his
head to himself, then turned to the woman in red. “And who in tarnation are
you?”
    “Indeed!” said Roderick Macallister. “This woman has
accosted my son! Her involvement could have caused serious injury!”
    “Oh, do shut-up, Roderick,” Bromstead said. “She might well
have saved Elias’s hide.” He took the rapier from the woman and held it up. “It
seems your son failed to notice his blade slipping out of his sheath.”
    “An accident, I assure you, Mayor,” said Cormik, answering
for his speechless father. “Furthermore, Elias really shouldn’t have grabbed
the blade. Not only is touching the opposing blade with a hand a concession of
a point, but doing so is what caused the sheaf’s malfunction.”
    “That’s horse manure, and you know it!” Danica all but shouted.
“You were intent on putting a hole in him!”
    Danica’s words started an avalanche, as Asa, Lar, and the
Macallisters all started talking at the same time, each vying to be heard. The situation
soon devolved into a shouting match, with Bromstead trying in vain to intercede
and cool hot tempers.
    The enigmatic woman looked on stoically. She exchanged
glances with Elias, for they were the only two not involved in the argument. With
a shake of her head she turned to leave the dais.
    “Wait a hot minute!” Macallister bellowed as her movement
caught his eye. “Where do you think you’re going?”
    This silenced the group, who had, to a man, forgotten the
stranger in the heat of the moment. As one, they turned their attention back to
her.
    The imperious woman turned on her heels to face the
villagers. She fixed her cobalt eyes on Macallister. “Roderick Macallister, I
presume?”
    Macallister straightened his vest. “Viscount Macallister. And
who, pray tell, are you, who saw fit to accost my son?”
    The woman arched an eyebrow. “Very well, Viscount. My name
is Bryn. Lady Bryn Denar.” At her pronouncement of the surname Denar, Bromstead
and Macallister blanched. “I am first cousin to your queen. Among my other
duties at court I have been appointed to the office of Deputy Tax Bursar.” She
flashed Macallister a honey sweet smile. “Men seem so much more willing to give
up coin to a woman.
    “I am here to collect Ogressa Duchy’s harvest tax. Fortunately
for me I arrived in your hospitable town on a festival day.”
    “Welcome to Knoll Creek, my Lady,” Bromstead said, suddenly
unsure what to do with his hands, while Macallister, who for once had no pithy
retort forthcoming, said, “Oh.”
    “Oh, indeed,” Lady Denar said. “In answer to your query,
Viscount, I saw fit to accost your son, because he doesn’t play fair.” She
shot Cormik a significant look. “His careless disregard for the rules of
engagement is ungentlemanly at best and unlawful at worst. Trained, as all high
lords are, in the basic Arcanum, I was the first to see his treachery, and so
reacted first. I trust you forgive my incursion, Mayor.”
    “Naturally, my Lady,” said Bromstead.
    A pregnant moment of silence fell over the dais as the
implication of Lady Denar’s words sunk in. Then, Bromstead and Macallister
stumbled over each other in an effort to welcome her Ladyship and express their
gratitude for her intervention in a situation that was surely an