Ruby Guardian Read Online Free PDF Page B

He had both meaty fists up and clenched, eager to fight. He seemed oblivious to the rest of the tavern brawl raging behind him. Xaphira eyed the brute warily, balanced on the balls of her feet, watching for that
    first sign, that first flicker of flexing muscle, that signified an attack.
    It had been about a dozen years since Xaphira had last visited The Silver Fish, and the rathrur hadn’t changed much in all that time. It still stank to high heaven, the drink was still watered down, and brawls were still a regular occurrence. For a moment, the mercenary officer wondered if even the patrons were the same since the last time she had paid a call to the place.
    Now I remember why I haven’t come in so long, Xaphira thought wryly, twisting and easily ducking beneath the first great sweeping punch delivered by her foe. The regulars never were much for welcoming outsiders.
    Xaphira saw a second punch coming and sidestepped again, letting the huge fist rush past her cheek before she stepped inside the man’s reach and planted a solid jab right into his nose. She heard the snap of crunching cartilage from the blow, but his head did not otherwise move much. The woman danced back out of reach again as her adversary blinked a couple of times. A trickle of blood appeared from one nostril, but he didn’t seem to notice.
    Waukeen, he’s big, Xaphira thought. Why did he pick me?
    If anything, the fellow seemed to smile all the more. He took a step toward her, swinging again.
    Xaphira ducked to avoid the punch and glanced out at the rest of the room. Everywhere, men and women were scuffling. One stocky woman, still wearing her blacksmith’s apron, grabbed a younger man by his collar and belt—a stable groom, judging from his clothes—and sent him flying through the air to crash into a table where several other patrons were laughing. The table collapsed from the blow and sent drinks flying.
    Recovering her balance, Xaphira stood upright again and watched as another dock worker grabbed up a wooden bench and lined up for a swing against the back of her own foe. Moments before, the two of them had been sharing frothy tankards and laughing uproariously at the crude song the minstrels had been performing.
    Stupid bards, Xaphira thought, grimacing in disgust as she watched the bench shatter across the back of the behemoth in front of her. Half the crowd always loves their songs, and the other half hates them. No better way to start a fight than to let a musician sing. And these two don’t even need that much of an excuse, she realized, watching as the big fellow blinked in confusion at the new attack, half turning to see what had hit him. His former drinking partner just let out a joyous shriek and grabbed another bench.
    Seeing her chance, Xaphira went very low and launched herself into a roll that moved her out of the corner and past the two dock workers. The maneuver got her out of the immediate confrontation between the pair, but it also put her into the middle of the common room and the fracas roiling throughout it. In one smooth motion, the woman tumbled into a crouch and came up on her feet. She found her balance just in time to spot another body flying through the air directly toward her, a skinny runt of a man with bushy muttonchop whiskers.
    Xaphira could not react quickly enough to completely evade the living projectile, though she altered her center of balance just enough to avoid taking the worst of the collision. As the pair of them went down, Xaphira spied the blacksmith back along the skinny man’s path, laughing as she finished the follow-through on her throw. Then the mercenary officer and the man were in a heap on the floor of the rathrur.
    Grimacing in frustration, Xaphira rolled out from beneath her counterpart and dodged sideways. The man struggled to his hands and knees just as a table came crashing down on top of him. She heard him grunt in pain as the heavy table knocked him flat, but she didn’t stay to share in