Temple Hill - Drew Karpyshyn [9]
A much larger brunette woman in full scale armor had grabbed the small blonde by the shoulder. A few feet away four men stood ready, weapons drawn. Maces. The bitterness and anger perpetually simmering just beneath Corin's surface boiled over at the sight of the Elversult city guards.
"Release the girl, or I swear by Helm's Hands Fll crack your skull."
The armored woman's jaw dropped open, her expression one of horrified surprise. Behind her the other Maces recoiled at his words, as if the venom in Corin's voice had stung their cheeks.
Corin took an unsteady step forward, and half drew his sword. "I said… let… her… go."
The brunette woman flinched beneath his hate-filled gazed, but held her ground. "We just saved you from becoming the victim of a crime," she said slowly, as if speaking to a child too young to understand the situation. "The least you could do is thank us."
Corin had no intention of thanking anyone, least of all a patronizing member of the Elversult city guard. "Crime?" he asked the woman sarcastically. "I don't see any crime here."
One of the guards in the background, a young man, stepped up to stand beside his female partner. He pointed the butt of his mace at the blonde. "This woman just picked your pocket."
The blonde girl began to protest her innocence, but Corin ignored her, just as he had earlier ignored the sounds of the Fair. KeepirTg his eyes focused on the soldiers in front of him, Corin slid the stump of his right arm beneath his belt, working it through the loop of the drawstrings on his money purse. He held the leather pouch up as proof that the guard was lying. It dangled from his amputated limb.
"There's nothing so cowardly as making false accusations."
There was no reply. The Maces just stared at Corin's severed arm. Corin endured their gawking for a few seconds, then sheathed his sword and grabbed his purse with his left hand, stuffing it back under his belt.
"What else could I expect from the Maces, but incompetence?"
The young man tried to step forward and say something, rising to the bait, but the brunette woman- obviously the captain of the patrol-held out an arm to block his path.
"Let it go, Gareth," she said to him over her shoulder, cutting off his words. "We're here to keep the peace, not pick fights."
The young man refused to be cowed. "We keep these streets safe!" he shouted from his spot behind his captain, jabbing his finger in Corin's direction. "We deserve your respect!"
Corin spit on the ground. He could have been a Mace, had even applied to the city guard after the White Shields disbanded, but they had refused him because of the injury to his arm, hadn't even given him a chance.
"You think you're something special, just because you wear a uniform?" he shot back at the young man. "Even with one hand, I'm more soldier than youH ever be."
From the corner of his eyes Corin noticed the blonde edging toward the crowd of curious onlookers that now gathered around the confrontation. The patrol captain noticed as well. She snapped-out her hand, grabbing a fistful of the smaller woman's silk blouse to prevent her escape. "The only place you're going is the Jailgates, my pretty pickpocket."
Gareth, no longer held back by his captain, took a long stride that brought his face just inches away from Corin's own unshaven mug. He grimaced at the reek of alcohol and unwashed sweat cloaking the one-armed man, but didn't recoil.
"We've brought order and discipline to this city! Without us there'd be anarchy!"
He had more to say, but Corin ignored the tirade as he sized up his chances in a fight. One-on-one he was a match for any city constable, even with nearly a dozen ales in his gullet. But faced with overwhelming odds he wouldn't be able to let the rhythm of the battle develop, he wouldn't get a chance to pick up the subtle patterns