Lord Roderik Hightower was a stocky, medium-height man in his early fifties. His short-cropped hair was iron grey, and his piercing dark eyes stared unyieldingly from a harsh, weatherbeaten face. Only a few years earlier, he'd been the Chief Commander of the Low Kingdoms' army, and a legend in his own lifetime. He always led his men into battle, and he was always the last to retreat. His grasp of strategy was second to none, and he had guts of solid steel. A soldier's soldier. He was still solidly muscled, but signs of wear were finally beginning to show. He was getting slower, and old wounds gnawed at him when it rained. He'd retired from the army rather than accept the desk job they offered him, and had immediately looked for a new challenge with which to occupy himself. He finally settled on politics, and took on the campaign to clean up Haven with the same determination and gusto he'd shown in his army days.
Hawk knew him from a year or so back. There had been a series of werewolf murders on the lower Northside, and Hawk had been one of the investigating Guards. It had been a complicated, messy case. Hawk had finally identified the shapechanger and destroyed it, but not before three more men had been killed. One of them was Hightower's only son. Hawk's superiors had stood by him, but Hightower still blamed him for his son's death.
Great, thought Hawk. Just what I needed. More complications.
He looked curiously at Hightower's wife, the Lady Elaine. A very well-preserved early fifties, she wore the latest fashion with style and dignity. Her dress was long and flowing, despite the muggy weather, and studded with semiprecious stones. She fanned herself constantly with an intricately painted paper fan, but otherwise seemed unaffected by the heat. She had a long mane of pure white hair and showed it off to advantage. Her face had a strong bone structure, and she was still stunningly good-looking, despite her years. All in all, she looked splendid, and she knew it. She held her husband's arm protectively, and looked around Gaunt's parlor with such poise that she seemed to be suggesting that simply by entering such a room she was most definitely slumming.
Hawk felt an almost overwhelming urge to sneak up behind her and kick her in the bustle.
Fisher leaned closer to Hawk. "Hightower…" she said softly. "Wasn't he the one who…"
"Yeah," said Hawk.
"Maybe he's forgotten by now."
"I doubt it."
Hightower looked across the room, saw Hawk and Fisher, and stiffened slightly. He spoke quietly to his wife, who looked at the two Guards as though they'd just crawled out from under a rock. She reluctantly let go of her husband's arm and moved away to greet Blackstone. Lord Hightower glared at Hawk for a long moment, and then walked slowly across the length of the room to confront him. Hawk and Fisher bowed politely. Hightower didn't bow in return. He waited for Hawk to straighten up, and then studied him coldly.
"So. You're William's bodyguards."
"That's right, my lord," said Hawk.
"I should have had you drummed out of the Guard when I had the chance."
"You tried hard enough, my Lord," said Hawk calmly. "Luckily my superiors knew the facts of the matter. Your son's death was a tragic accident."
"He'd still be alive if you'd done your job properly!"
"Perhaps. I did my best, my Lord."
Hightower sniffed, and looked disparagingly at Fisher. "This is your woman, is it?"
"This is my partner and my wife," said Hawk. "Captain Fisher."
"And if you raise your voice to my husband again," said Fisher calmly, "I'll knock you flat on your arse, right here and now."
Hightower flushed angrily, and started to splutter a reply. And then his voice died away as he looked into Fisher's steady eyes and saw that she meant it. Hightower had a lifetime's experience of fighting men, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that Fisher would kill him if she thought he was a threat to her husband. He recalled some of the things he'd heard about Hawk and Fisher, and suddenly they didn't seem quite so impossible after all. He sniffed again, turned his back on the two Guards, and walked back to his wife with as much dignity as he could muster.
"How to make friends and influence people," said Hawk.
"To hell with him," said Fisher. "Anyone who wants to take you on has to go through me first."
Hawk smiled at her fondly. "I knew there had to be some reason why I put up with you." His smile faded away. "I liked Hightower's son. He hadn't been in the Guard long, but he meant well, and he tried so hard. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he died because of it."
"What happened on that werewolf case?" said Fisher. "That's another one you never told me much about."
"Not much to tell. The case started badly and went downhill fast. We didn't have much to go on, and what little we thought we knew about werewolves turned out to be mostly untrue. According to legend, the werewolf in human shape is excessively hairy, has two fingers the same length, and has a pentacle on his palm. Rubbish, all of it. Also according to the legend, the man takes on his wolf shape when the full moon rises, and only turns back again when the moon goes down. Our shapechanger could turn from man to wolf and back again whenever he felt like it, as long as the full moon was up. That made finding him rather difficult. We got him eventually. Ordinary-looking guy. You could walk right past him in the street and never notice him. I killed him with a silver sword. He lay on the ground with the blood running out of him, and cried, as though he couldn't understand why any of this was happening to him. He hadn't wanted to kill anyone; the werewolf curse made him do it. He hadn't wanted to die either, and at the end he cried like a small child that's been punished and doesn't know why."
Fisher put an arm across his shoulders and hugged him.
"How very touching," said an amused voice. Hawk and Fisher looked round to see Edward Bowman standing to their right, smiling sardonically. Fisher moved unhurriedly away from Hawk. Bowman put out his hand, and Hawk shook it warily. Like Blackstone, Bowman had a politician's quick and impersonal handshake. He shook Fisher's hand too.
"Enjoying the party?" he asked, smiling impartially at Hawk and Fisher.
"It has its ups and downs," said Hawk dryly.
"Ah yes," said Bowman. "I saw you and Hightower. Unfortunate business about his son. You'd do well to be wary of Hightower, Captain Hawk. The Lord Roderik is well known for his ability to hold a grudge."
"What's his connection with Blackstone?" asked Fisher. "I'd have thought a man like Hightower, old army and High Society, would be conservative by nature, rather than a reformer."
Bowman smiled knowingly. "Normally you'd be right; and thereby hangs a tale. Up until a few years ago. Lord Roderik was a devoted advocate of the status quo. Change could only be for the worse, and those who actually lobbied for reforms were nothing but malcontents and traitors. And then the King summoned Lord Hightower to Court, and told him it had been decided by the Assembly that he was too old to lead the army anymore, and he would have to step down to make way for a younger man. According to my spies at Court, Hightower just stood there and looked at the King like he couldn't believe his ears. Apparently he hadn't thought the mandatory retirement from the field at fifty would apply to someone as important as him. The King was very polite about it, even offered Hightower a position as his personal military adviser, but Hightower wouldn't have any of it. If he couldn't be a real soldier, he'd resign his commission. I don't think he really believed they'd go that far. Until they did.
"He was never the same after that. Thirty years of his life given to the army, and he didn't even get a pension, because he resigned. Not that he needed a pension, of course, but it was the principle of the thing. He came back here, to his home and his family, but couldn't seem to settle down. Tried to offer his advice and expertise to the Council, but they didn't want to know. I think he joined up with Blackstone originally just to spite them. Told you he carried grudges. Then he discovered Reform, and he's been unbearable ever since. There's no one more fanatical than a convert to a Cause. Still, there's no denying he's been very useful to us. His name
opens quite a few doors in Haven."
"It should," said Hawk. "His family owns a fair chunk of it. And his wife's family is one of the oldest in the city." He looked thoughtfully at Bowman. "How did you get involved with Blackstone?"
Bowman shrugged. "I liked his style. He was one of the few politicians I met who actually seemed interested in doing something to improve the lives of the people who live in this rat hole of a city. I've been in politics all my life; my father was a Councilor till the day he died, but I hadn't really been getting anywhere. It's not enough in politics to have a good mind and good intentions; you have to have a good personal image as well. I've never had much talent for being popular, but William has. I knew he was going places from the first day I met him. But, at that time, he didn't have any experience. He threw away chances, because he didn't even know they were there. So, we decided to work together. I provided the experience, he provided the style. It hasn't worked out too badly. We get on well together, and we get things done."
"And he gets all the power, and all the credit," said Fisher.
"I'm not ambitious," said Bowman. "And there's more to life than credit."
"Indeed there is," said Katherine Blackstone. She moved in to stand beside Bowman, and Hawk and Fisher didn't miss the way they stood together.
"Tell me," said Katherine, sipping daintily at her drink, "where did you and your wife come from originally, Captain Hawk? I'm afraid I can't quite place your accent."
"We're from the North," said Hawk vaguely. "Up around Hillsdown."
"Hillsdown," said Katherine thoughtfully. "That's a monarchy, isn't it?"
"More or less," said Fisher.
"The Low Kingdoms must seem rather strange to you," said Bowman. "I don't suppose democracy has worked its way up North yet."
"Not yet," said Hawk. "The world's a big place, and change travels slowly. When I discovered the Low Kingdoms were in fact governed by an elected Assembly, presided over by a constitutional monarch with only limited powers, it was as though my whole world had been tipped upside down. How could he be King if he didn't rule? But the idea; the idea that every man and woman should have a say in how the country should be run: that was staggering. There's no denying the system does have its drawbacks, and I've seen most of them right here in Haven, but it has its attractions too."
"It's the way of the future," said Bowman.
"You might just be right," said Hawk.
The doorbell rang, and Gaunt went off to answer it. Bowman and Katherine chatted a while longer about nothing in particular, and then moved away to talk quietly with each other. Fisher looked after them thoughtfully.
"I don't trust Bowman; he smiles too much."
Hawk shrugged. "That's his job; he's a politician, remember? But did you see the way Katherine's face lit up every time Bowman looked at her?"
"Yeah," said Fisher, grinning. "There's definitely something going on there."
"Scandalmonger," said Hawk.
"Not at all," said Fisher. "I'm just romantic, that's all."
Gaunt came back into the parlor with a tall, muscular man in his late forties. Hawk took one look at the new arrival and nearly spilled his drink. Standing beside Gaunt was Adam Stalker, possibly the most renowned hero ever to come out of the Low Kingdoms. In his time he'd fought every monster you can think of, and then some. He'd single-handedly toppled the evil Baron Cade from his mountain fortress, and freed hundreds of prisoners from the foul dungeons under Cade's Keep. He'd been the confidant of kings and the champion of the oppressed. He'd served in a dozen armies, in this cause and that, bringing aid and succor to those who had none. His feats of daring and heroism had spread across the known world, and were the subject of countless songs and stories. Adam Stalker: demonslayer and hero.
He stood a head and shoulders taller than anyone else in the room, and was almost twice as wide as some of them. His shoulder-length black hair was shot with grey now, but he was still an impressive and powerful figure. His clothes were simple but elegantly cut. He looked around the room like a soldier gazing across a battlefield, nodding at the familiar faces, and then his cold blue eyes fell on Hawk and Fisher. He strode quickly over to them, crushed Hawk's hand in his, and clapped him on the back. Hawk staggered under the blow.
"I heard about your run-in with the Chandler Lane vampire," Stalker said gruffly. "You did a good job. Captain Hawk. A damned good job."
"Thanks," said Hawk, just a little breathlessly. "My partner helped."
"Of course." Stalker nodded briefly to Fisher. "Well done, my dear." He looked back at Hawk. "I've heard good things about you, Hawk. This city has much to thank you for."
"Yeah," said Fisher. "We're thinking of putting in for a raise."
"Thank you, sir warrior," said Hawk quickly. "We do our best, but I'm sure we've a long way to go before we become as renowned as Adam Stalker."
Stalker smiled and waved a hand dismissively. "Minstrels exaggerate. I take it you're here as William's bodyguards. You shouldn't have any trouble, not with me and Gaunt to look after him. Still, I can always use a backup. I'll talk to you again later; I want to hear all about this vampire killing. I once stumbled across a whole nest of the things, up in the Broken Crag range. Nasty business."
He nodded briskly, and strode off to speak to Blackstone. Hawk and Fisher watched him go.
"Big, isn't he?" said Hawk.
"I'll say," said Fisher. "He must be close on seven feet tall. And did you see the size of those muscles?"
"Yeah." Hawk looked at her narrowly. "You were a bit short with him, weren't you?"
"He was a bit short with me. He's obviously one of those men who think women should stay at home while the men go out to be heroes. You ever met him before. Hawk?"
"No. Heard most of the songs, though. If only half of them are true, he's a remarkable man. I wasn't sure I believed some of the stories, but now I've met him… I don't know. He's certainly impressive."
"Right." Fisher sipped thoughtfully at her drink. "A very dangerous man, if crossed."
Hawk looked at her sharply. "Oh, come on. Stalker as an assassin? That's ridiculous. What reason could a great hero like Stalker possibly have for taking on a small-time politician like Blackstone? We're talking about a man who's supposed to have toppled kings in his time."
Fisher shrugged. "I don't know. He just strikes me as a little too good to be true, that's all."
"You're just jealous because he congratulated me, and not you."
Fisher laughed, and emptied her glass. "Maybe."
"How many of those have you had?" asked Hawk suddenly.
"Two or three. I'm thirsty."
"Then ask for a glass of water. This is no time to be getting legless. Hightower would just love to find some reason to drop us in it."
"Spoilsport." Fisher put down her empty glass and looked about her. The party seemed to be livening up. The chatter of raised voices filled the parlor, along with a certain amount of self-satisfied laughter. Every hand held a wineglass, and the first few bottles were already empty.
Hawk moved away to talk to Blackstone about the security arrangements, and Fisher was left on her own. She looked disinterestedly around her. Society gatherings didn't appeal to her much. Private jokes, malicious gossip, and sugary wines were no substitute for good food and ale in the company of friends. Not that she was particularly fond of that kind of gathering, either. I guess I'm just basically antisocial, thought Fisher sardonically. She shrugged and smiled, and then stood up a little straighter as Edward Bowman came over to stand before her. She bowed politely, and he nodded briefly in return.
"Captain Fisher. All alone?"
"For the moment."
"Now that is unacceptable; a good-looking woman like yourself should never want for company."
Fisher raised a mental eyebrow. Her face was striking rather than pretty, and she knew it. He's after something…
"I'm not very fond of company," she said carefully.
"Don't much care for cro
wds myself," said Bowman, smiling engagingly. "Why don't we go somewhere more private, just the two of us?"
"I don't think Gaunt would like that. We are his guests. And after all, I'm here to do a job."
"Gaunt won't say anything." Bowman leaned closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. "No one will say anything. I'm an important man, my dear."
Fisher looked him straight in the eye. "You don't believe in wasting time, do you?"
Bowman shrugged. "Life is short. Why are we still talking? There are so many other, more pleasurable things we could be doing."
"I don't think so," said Fisher calmly.
"What?" Bowman looked at her sharply. "I don't think you understand, my dear. No one turns me down. No one."
Fisher smiled coldly. "Want to bet?"
Bowman scowled, all the amiability gone from his face as though it had never been there. "You forget your place, Captain. I have friends among your superior officers. All I have to do is drop a word in the right quarter…"
"You'd really do that?"
"Believe it, Captain. I can ruin your career, have you thrown in jail… You'd be surprised what can happen to you. Unless, of course…"
He reached out a hand towards her, and then stopped suddenly and looked down. Fisher had a dagger in her left hand, the point pressed against his stomach. Bowman stood very still.
"You threaten me again," said Fisher quietly, "and I'll cut you one you'll carry for the rest of your days. And be grateful my husband hasn't noticed anything. He'd kill you on the spot, and damn the consequences. Now go away, and stay away. Understand?"
Bowman nodded jerkily, and Fisher made the dagger disappear. Bowman turned and walked away. Fisher leaned back against the buffet table and shook her head resignedly.
I think I preferred the party when it was boring…
Gaunt stood alone by the doorway, keeping a careful eye on the time. The first course would be ready soon, and he didn't want it to be overdone. The first course set the mood for the meal to come. He looked around at his guests, and then winced slightly as he saw Stalker making his way determinedly towards him. Gaunt sighed, and bowed politely to Stalker. The giant warrior inclined his head briefly in response.