Blades Of Magic: Crown Service #1 Read Online Free PDF Page B

of a woman who knows how to use them. So, did I guess rightly?”
    She said nothing.
    He smiled and sat forward. “So tell me, what does a mercenary want with my fishery?”
    “I’m no mercenary,” she said, bristling.
    Mercenaries were one step below foot soldiers, who were leagues below the officer’s command her father had held. To call a Fairchild a mercenary was to say they were the mud beneath your feet.
    “Are you certain?” 
    “ Quite certain,” she said in a stone-cold voice.
    His lips thinned in displeasure. “Then I don’t believe I have any use for you.”
    She bristled. “I came here for a job.”
    “I don’t have any openings for mercenaries-turned-fisherwomen. Get out.”
    The man in the corner came forward and flapped his hand at her. Motioning for her to leave like she was a fly that had landed on his dinner plate.
    Sara bared her teeth at him with an irate look. He went back to his corner.
    “Wait!” she cried to the man at the desk. “I came here to work. I promise you I can clean and gut the fish like any other woman on your payroll. I’m good with a knife and fast with a hook. However many fish you need cleaned, I can do it.”
    “As I said,” the man said coldly, “I’m not interested in another fisherwoman. What I could use is a woman who can handle herself in a fight. Can you handle yourself in a fight, miss? What did you say your name was?”
    Sara stiffened. “Fairchild. Sara Fairchild.”
    Recognition didn’t flow through his eyes. Not everyone knew who she was.
    Reluctantly, she answered, “Yes, I can handle myself in a fight.”
    “Now do you want the job?”
    She almost walked out on him. Sara wasn’t opposed to fighting for contract, but the magistrate’s court had been clear. She couldn’t fight for money or work as a guard, brawler, or gladiator within the city of Sandrin. Legally.
    She raised her chin, “What kind of job are we talking about?”
    He smiled—a shark’s grin.
    “Something you’ll be very good at. I promise you.”
    She shifted uneasily.
    Sara heard another person step into the room behind her and she gripped her knife quickly.
    “No need for that,” the man behind the desk assured her. “You work for me now. We’re like family here.”
    Sara almost spit in his face at that. But she held back.
    “We’re not family,” she said flatly while turning to keep a wary eye on the person standing behind her. She could sense his threat was minimal even before she looked him in the face. It was in the hesitant way he walked. Like a timid man.
    “This is Ezekiel Crane. He works for me,” said the man behind the desk.
    Sara almost smiled at the man’s last name. It was apt from what she could see. Like an unsteady crane on stiff legs, he loitered in the doorway.
    The pale, long-legged man startled at hearing his name from his boss’s lips. He nodded at her uncomfortably but didn’t look his boss in the eye. Instead his gaze focused on the floorboards beneath their feet while his unkempt brown hair flopped into his eyes, as if by ignoring the man sitting in front of them he would go away.
    “Ezekiel,” said the boss, “this is our new watcher. Show her the ropes.”
    “Yes sir,” said Ezekiel in a voice barely louder than a whisper.
    “Now get out,” said the man coldly.
    Ezekiel backed out of the office so quickly he almost tripped over his own feet.
    Sara wasn’t going anywhere until she found out more about the job. The man didn’t intimidate her.
    “A watcher?” she said, looking down at her new boss.
    He seemed fairly annoyed that she still stood there.
    But he spoke. “A guard of sorts for my new...collection.”
    “That’s it?”
    “That’s it,” he confirmed.
    “And payment?”
    He let out a booming laugh. “My, you have a set of brass balls on you, don’t you?”
    “The only reason I’m doing this is if I’m paid. And paid well.”
    He narrowed his gaze. “Twenty shillings.”
    “Ten. A day.”
    “That’s