Read Weapon of the Guild [The Chronicles of Grimm Dragonblaster, Book 2] for Free Online

turned towards the argument, and Grimm swallowed, remembering Dalquist's advice to leave no slight unanswered. The tipsy man seemed ready for a fight.
    Grimm could not see the fearsome Uril, and nobody else seemed inclined to intervene. He saw Dalquist and the foppish swordsman sitting at ease on the other side of the bar, impassive, although Grimm knew they must both be listening to the exchange with interest.
    The young Questor took a deep breath and drew the wispy tendrils of his will into a dense nugget of determination, as he had been taught.
    This will be a one-sided battle , he told himself, feeling the power build within him. This muscle-bound bruiser doesn't stand a chance.
    "In truth, I have little experience in the ways of love,” he said in a low voice, “but I do not desire the bed-company of my own sex. Should I so desire, I would not choose as my partner a bloated, big-mouthed oaf such as you. So you must swallow your disappointment and find yourself another young boy with whom to spend your nights and to soothe your bruised ego." A low groan arose from some quarters of the bar as the brute stood to tower over the mage. Grimm suppressed a nervous gulp; he stood six feet tall, but this brute overtopped him by inches. In a reflex motion, he brought Redeemer to a ready position.
    "Think that toothpick's going t'protect you, boy ?” the fighter slurred. “Think you can insult Harman Hammerfist and get away with it?"
    The tall man drew a well-worn sword, brandishing it in a threatening manner that implied some skill with the blade.
    "Do you think you can insult a Guild Mage and get away with it?” Grimm said in a contemptuous voice. He knew now a fight was inevitable, and he let his training take over, like a cool, refreshing wind that blew all fear and uncertainty from him.
    "I was prepared to accept your bluster as the mindless ramblings of a drunkard,” Grimm said. “Now, you have gone too far. Apologise at once, or know the wrath of a Mage Questor."
    "A wizard? You never said nothing about being no wizard,” the man spluttered, suddenly concerned.
    “You haven't got none of them gold rings on that stick."
    "You gave me little chance to mention it before you called me a pederast's toy,” Grimm replied in a cold voice that surprised even him. “Put that sword away and apologise humbly for your rash words, or it will be the worse for you."
    "How do I know you really are a wizard?” Harman asked, with a suspicious glint in his eyes. This is a dangerous question to ask a walking weapon like a Questor , Grimm thought. There were several ways in which he could prove what he was, but Harman wouldn't survive many of them. Pointing at the sword, he muttered "Ch'teerehch'ye!" and the weapon's blade fell into glittering dust like flour, leaving the hapless Harman gaping at the now-useless hilt.
    "That could as easily have been your head,” Grimm said in a threatening monotone. “One more word of bluster or insult, and it will be. Apologise at once, before my forbearance is exhausted." All braggadocio and bravado seemed to flee Harman after this demonstration of power, and it seemed the adrenaline of terror had chased the alcoholic befuddlement from the fighter's brain. For a moment, he appeared to be trying to remember the working of his own mouth before he found his voice.
    "I humbly beg pardon, Lord Mage, for my hasty words,” he said, with crystal clarity. “I was drunk, and I'm ashamed at what I said. I beg you to forgive me.” Harman's voice was little more than a whisper, his face ashen, still holding the useless stump of his sword.
    All eyes in the bar seemed to be on Grimm and Harman. Uril had returned, and he shook his head, perhaps baffled by the foolishness of a man seeking to tangle with a Guild Questor.
    "I believe some here did not hear your apology, yet your insult was audible to all,” Grimm snarled. “I request that you repeat your last statement in a voice loud enough for all to hear."