Read Lady Knight for Free Online

striding down the hall. I like how he speaks his mind. Alvik didn’t beat that from him, praise Mithros.
    At the top of the stairs, Kel halted. Below her, out of sight, she could hear Neal: “…broken finger, half-healed broken arm, cracked ribs, and assorted healed breaks. I’m giving your name to the magistrate. I’ll recommend he look in on you often, to see the treatment you give your other servants.”
    “Yes, milord, of course, milord.” That was Innkeeper Alvik’s unmistakable voice, oily and mocking at the same time. “I’m sure my friend the magistrate will be oh so quick to look in on’ me, as you say, once you’re down the road. Just you worry about Scanra. They’ll be making it so hot for you there, you’ll be hard put to remember us Queensgrace folk.”
    “Yes, well, I thought of that,” Neal said, his voice quiet but hard. “So here’s something on account, something your magistrate can’t undo.”
    She heard a rustle of cloth. Alvik gasped. “Forcing a magic on me is a Crown offence!”

Protector of the Small 4 - Lady Knight
    “Who will impress the Crown more, swine? The oldest son of Baird of Queenscove, or you?” asked Neal cruelly. “And did my spell hurt?”
    “Noooo,” Alvik replied, dragging the sound out. Kel imagined he was checking his body for harm.
    “It won’t,” Neal said. “At least, as long as you don’t hit anyone. When you do, well, you’ll feel the blow as if you struck yourself. Clever spell, don’t you think? I got the idea from something the Chamber of the Ordeal did once.” Neal’s voice went colder. “Mind what I say, innkeeper. When you strike a servant, a child, your wife, your own body will take the punishment. Mithros cut me down if I lie.”
    “All this over a whore’s brat!” snarled the innkeeper. “You nobles are mad!”
    “The whore’s brat is worth far more than you.” Neal’s voice was a low growl at the bottom of the stairs. “He’s got courage. You have none. Get out of my sight.”
    Kel waited for the innkeeper to flee to his kitchen and Neal to return to the common room before she descended. It was useless to say anything to Neal. He would just be embarrassed that he’d been caught doing a good deed. He liked to play the cynical, heartless noble, but it was all for show. Kel wouldn’t ruin it for him.
    It was a long ride to the wagonloads of goods for those made homeless by the Scanrans. Her lantern, hung from a pole to light Hoshi’s way, provided scant light as icy rain sizzled on its tin hood. Other riders were out, members of the army camped on either side of the road for miles. Thanks to their directions, Kel found the wagons in a village two miles off the Great Road North. They were drawn up beside one of the large, barnlike buildings raised by the Crown to shelter troops and equipment on the road year after year. In peaceful years local folk used the buildings to hold extra wood, grain, animals and even people made homeless by natural disasters.
    The miserable-looking guards who watched the wagons scowled at Kel, but fetched the quartermaster.
    Once Kel placed money in his palm, the quartermaster allowed her to open the crates and barrels in a wagonload of boys’ clothes.
    The wagon’s canvas hood kept off the weather as Kel went through the containers. Tobe looked to be about ten, but he was a runty ten, just an inch or two over four feet in height, bony and undersized from a life of cheap, scant rations. She chose carefully until she had three each of loincloths, sashes, shirts, breeches and pairs of stockings, three pairs of shoes that might fit, a worn but serviceable coat and a floppy-brimmed hat. If she was going to lead Tobe into battlelands, the least she could do was see him properly clothed. The army tailors could take in shirts and breeches to fit him properly; the cobblers could adjust his shoes. Once she had bundled everything into a burlap sack, Kel mounted Hoshi, giving a copper noble to the soldier who