When Demons Walk by Patricia Briggs Read Free Book Online

“Many of these things had already come to my attention, but I lacked the evidence that someone so generouslyprovided. In light of the fact that Lord Tyber would make certain that you do not live to face a trial, I have already passed sentence with the consent of the council. You are banished from Southwood.”
    Hirkin’s face whitened with rage. “ You would banish me? I am the second son of the Lord of the Marshlands! Our oldest title goes back eight hundred years. You are nothing ! Do you hear me? Nothing but the bastard son of a high-bred whore.”
    Kerim shook his head, managing to look regretful as he drew his sword from the sheath on his back. His voice abruptly iced over as he said, “High-bred whore she might be, but it is not your judgment to give. I cry challenge.”
    The sight of the Reeve’s sword distracted Sham momentarily. She had heard that the Leopard fought with a blue sword, but she had assumed that it was painted blue—a custom that was fairly prevalent among the Easterners.
    Instead it was blued as was sometimes done with steel intended for decorative use. She’d never heard of true bluing done on the scale of the Reeve’s massive blade. A lesser process was occasionally used to prevent rust on swords, but the blades came out more black than blue.
    The Reeve’s sword was a dark indigo that glittered evilly in the dim light of the little cottage. It was edged in silver where the bluing had been honed away. Thin marks where other blades had marred the finish bore mute testimony that this was no ceremonial tool but an instrument of death.
    Hirkin smiled and drew his own sword. “You make this too easy, my lord Reeve. Once you might have bested me, but I hear that two days out of three you can’t even lift that sword. You have no one to help you here—these are my men.”
    Apparently he didn’t count Sham, who was definitely opposed to Hirkin—but she was surprised that he didn’t notice that two of his guardsmen were also backing the Reeve, leaving only Scarf and the cadaver still loyal.
    Kerim smiled gently. “The order of banishment has already been listed in the temple and with the council. My death will not nullify that.” He twisted the sword aroundin a shimmering curtain of lethal sharpness, then smiled ferally and said, “We are in luck, it also appears that this is the one day of three I am able to fight.”
    Apparently tiring of the posturing, Hirkin growled abruptly and sprang at Kerim, sweeping his sword low and hard. Without visible effort, Kerim caught the smaller blade on his own and turned it aside, destroying a table that stood against the wall.
    As Sham winced away from the destruction, her attention was caught by a slight movement on her left. Without turning her head further from the flashing swords, she glimpsed Scarf edging slowly forward, a large, wicked knife in his hands. She frowned in disparagement at his choice of weapons—in the right hands a small dagger killed as surely and it was much easier to hide.
    Knowing what little she did about Scarf, she would have thought he would wait to see who was winning before committing himself firmly to either side, but perhaps he had a greater interest in Lord Hirkin than she knew. She flinched again when Hirkin’s sword crashed into one of the cheap little pots that lined the crude wooden shelf set into the wall.
    Sham knew she should take advantage of the fight and leave. The back door of the cottage was behind her, and no one was watching.
    She waited until Scarf chose his position before selecting her own. Judging the distance with an experienced eye, she took a two-fingered grip on the handle of her thieving tool, careful to keep it out of sight in the length of sleeve that dangled below her hand. Then she settled in to wait for Scarf to make his move.
    She missed most of the fight, though she could hear. The clash of metal on metal was