Stonewielder Read Online Free PDF Page A

You can always withdraw should you not judge the instruction beneficial.’
    ‘It is not for myself. It is for my son.’
    ‘I see. His age?’
    ‘Still a boy, really … but rowdy. Undisciplined.’ He tilted his head as he stroked his goatee. ‘But you look as if you might be able to handle him.’ He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes. Thank you. Until then.’ He bowed.
    Orjin answered the bow. ‘I look forward to it.’
    The man left. Kyle ambled across the floor to Orjin’s side. ‘Think we’ll see him again?’
    ‘Could be.’
    ‘He didn’t even ask to see your papers.’
    ‘Perhaps he knows how easily all that bullshit can be forged.’
    ‘Maybe.’ Kyle eyed his friend sidelong. ‘A half-silver per hour? Pretty steep. I couldn’t afford you.’
    The man smiled wolfishly and his glacial blue eyes glittered withhumour. For a moment he had the appearance of his old self. ‘He looked as if he could spare it.’
    Kyle laughed. ‘Aye. Tomorrow, then.’
    ‘Yes – sword and shield work.’
    Backing away, Kyle waved the suggestion aside. ‘Gods, no. There’s no skill in that.’
    ‘No skill! There’s ignorance speaking. Do you in, that ignorance might one day.’
    ‘Not before I knife it.’
    ‘ Knife? Useless against anyone in a shred of armour.’
    Kyle paused. ‘I’ll—’ A knock sounded just as he was reaching for the doors. Frowning, he opened one of the wide leaves. Three men, plainly dressed, bearing expensive Falaran-style longswords and daggers, the blades straight and slim. Three more! Must be Greymane’s – Orjin’s – banner day. He nodded to one. ‘Morning.’
    This one, a young swell in a broad-brimmed green felt hat, looked him up and down and made no effort to disguise his lack of approval. ‘You are this new weapon-master?’
    ‘No.’ Kyle motioned up the tunnel. ‘He’s it.’ He stood aside. The three men entered, leaving the door ajar. The indifferent condescension of that act – as if the three were used to others opening and shutting doors for them – moved Kyle to stroll along behind them, curious.
    He stopped in the mouth of the tunnel that led to the court. The three had met Orjin at a weapon rack. ‘You are this new weapon-master, Orjin Samarr?’ their spokesman asked in a tone that was almost accusatory.
    Orjin turned, blinking mildly. His eyes glinted bright like sapphires in the shade. ‘Aye? May I help you? You would like a lesson, perhaps?’
    The three exchanged glances, their mouths twisting up, amused. ‘Yes,’ the fellow in the green hat began, backing off and setting a gloved hand on his sword. ‘You can help us settle a wager my friends and I have made …’ The other two stepped aside to Orjin’s right and left. Kyle pushed himself from the wall, edged closer to a weapon rack. ‘… as to whether any foreigner could possibly provide fighting instruction in any way approximating that quality with which Delanss has been so blessed.’
    Orjin nodded his understanding. He drew a bound stave from the weapon rack, sighted down its length. ‘I see. Well, normally I chargea half-silver for lessons. But perhaps the three of you would like to go in together on a group rate—’
    They drew, snarling. Orjin sprang upon the one on his right, the stave smacking the man’s right hand, and he yelped, tucking it under an arm. Orjin spun to face the other two. Kyle drew a wooden baton from the weapon rack, tossed it end over end while he watched.
    Using a two-handed grip, Orjin parried, the stave blurring, knocking the slim double-edged blades aside. The fellow in the felt hat furiously threw it aside and drew his parrying dagger. The clack of the stave against the blades echoed in the court. Kyle listened for the telltale catch of iron biting wood, but so far Orjin had managed to avoid that particular danger. The man’s face was reddening and Kyle stopped tossing the baton.
    Too early; far too early for any exertion to be showing. ‘ They’re using