“He’s haunting his own body,” said Adamant. “Trapped in a prison of decaying flesh, because he wouldn’t leave me unprotected.”
“His name was Masque, but he calls himself Mortice, these days,” said Dannielle, a faint moue of distaste pulling at her mouth. “Igor Mortice. It’s a joke. Sort of.”
Hawk and Fisher looked at each other. “All right,” said Hawk. “Let’s go meet the corpse.”
“I can see you and he are going to get on like a house on fire,” said Medley.
He reached down and took a firm hold of the steel ring set into the trapdoor. He braced himself and pulled steadily. The trapdoor swung open on whispering hinges, and a rush of freezing air billowed out into the laundry room. Hawk shivered suddenly, gooseflesh rising on his arms. Adamant lit a lamp, and then started down the narrow wooden stairway that led into the darkness of the cellar. Dannielle lifted her dress up around her knees and followed him down. Hawk and Fisher looked at each other. Hawk shrugged uneasily, and followed Dannielle, his hand resting on the axe at his side. Fisher followed him, and Medley brought up the rear, slamming the trapdoor shut behind him.
It was very dark and bitterly cold in the cellar. Hawk wrapped his cloak tightly around him, his breathing steaming on the still air. The stairs seemed to go a long way down before they finally came to an end. Adamant’s lamp revealed a large square box of a room, packed from wall to bare wall with great slabs of ice. A layer of glistening frost covered everything, and a faint pearly haze softened the lamplight. In the middle of the room, in a small space surrounded by ice, sat a small mummified form wrapped in a white cloak, slumped and motionless on a bare wooden chair. There was no way of approaching it, so Hawk studied the still figure as best he could from a distance. The flesh had sunk clean down to the bone, so that the face was little more than a leathery mask, and the bare hands little more than bony claws. The eyes were sunken pits, with tightly closed eyelids. The rest of the body was hidden behind the cloak, for which Hawk was grateful.
“I take it the ice is here to preserve the body,” he said finally, his voice hushed.
“It slows the process,” said Adamant. “But that’s all.”
Fisher’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “Seems to me it’d be kinder to just let the poor bastard go.”
“You don’t understand,” said Medley. “He can’t die. Because of what he did, his spirit is tied to his body for as long as it exists. No matter what condition the body is in, or how little remains of it.”
“He did it for me,” said Adamant. “Because I needed him.” His voice broke off roughly. Dannielle put a comforting hand on his arm.
Hawk shivered, not entirely from the cold. “Are you sure he’s still ... in there? Can he hear us?”
The mummified body stirred on its chair. The sunken eyelids crawled open, revealing eyes yellow as urine. “I may be dead, Captain Hawk, but I’m not deaf.” His voice was low and harsh, but surprisingly firm. His eyes fixed on Hawk and Fisher, and his sunken mouth moved in something that might have been meant as a smile. “Hawk and Fisher. The only honest Guards in Haven. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Nothing good, I hope,” said Fisher.
The dead man chuckled dryly, a faint whisper of sound on the quiet. “James, I think you’ll find you’re in excellent hands with these two. They have a formidable reputation.”
“Apart from the Blackstone affair,” said Dannielle.
“Everyone has their off days,” said Hawk evenly. “You can trust us to keep you from harm, sir Adamant. Anyone who wants to get to you has to get past us first.”
“And there’s damn few who’ve ever done that,” said Fisher.
“You weren’t doing so well against the blood-creatures,” said Dannielle. “If Mortice hadn’t intervened, we’d have all been killed.”
“Hush, Danny,” said Adamant. “Any man can be brought down by sorcery. That’s why we have Mortice, to take care of things like that. Is there anything you need while we’re here, Mortice? You know we can’t stand this cold for long.”
“I don’t need anything anymore, James. But you need to take more care. It would appear Councillor Hardcastle is more worried about your chances in the election than he’s willing to admit in public. He’s hired a first-class sorcerer, and turned him loose on you. The blood-creature was just one of a dozen sendings he’s called up out of the darkness. I managed to keep out the others, but there’s a limit to what my wards can do. I don’t recognise my adversary’s style, but he’s good. Very good. If I were alive, I might even be worried about him.”
Adamant frowned. “Hardcastle must know he’s forbidden to use sorcery during an election.”
“So are we, for that matter,” said Medley.
“That’s different,” said Dannielle quickly, darting a quick glance at Hawk and Fisher. “Mortice just uses his magic to protect us.”
“The Council isn’t interested in that kind of distinction,” said Mortice. “Technically, my very presence in your house is illegal. Not that I ever let technicalities get in my way. But the Council’s always had ants in its pants about magic-users. Right, Captain Hawk?”
“Right,” said Hawk. “That’s what comes of living so near the Street of Gods.”
“Tough,” said Mortice. “All the candidates have some kind of sorcery backing them up. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t stand a chance. Magic is like bribery and corruption; everyone knows about it and everyone turns a blind eye. I don’t know why I should sound so disgusted about it. This is Haven, after all.”
“Being dead doesn’t seem to have dulled your faculties at all,” said Hawk.
Mortice’s mouth twitched. “I find being dead unclutters the mind wonderfully.”
“Where do you stand when it comes to sorcery, Captain Hawk?” said Dannielle sharply. “Are you going to turn us in, and get James disqualified from the election?”
Hawk shrugged. “My orders are to keep James Adamant alive. As far as I’m concerned, that has overall priority. I’ll put up with anything that’ll make my job easier.”
“Well, if that’s settled, we really should be going,” said Adamant. “We’ve a lot to do and not much time to do it in.”
“Do you really have to go, James?” said Mortice. “Can’t you just stay and talk for a while?”
“I’m sorry,” said Adamant. “Everything’s piling up right now. I’ll come down and see you again, as soon as I can. And I’ll keep searching for someone who can help with your condition, no matter how long it takes. There must be someone, somewhere.”
“Yes,” said Mortice. “I’m sure there is. Don’t worry about Hardcastle’s sorcerer, James. He may have caught me by surprise once, but I’m ready for him now. Nothing can harm you as long as I am here. I promise you that, my friend.”
His eyes slowly closed, and once again to all appearances he became nothing more than a mummified corpse, without any trace of life. Dannielle shivered quickly, and tugged at Adamant’s arm.
“Let’s get out of here, James. I’m not dressed for this kind of weather.”
“Of course, my dear.”
He nodded to Medley, who led the way out of the cellar and back into the laundry room. After the bitter cold of the cellar, the pleasant autumn day seemed uncomfortably warm. There was frost in their hair and eyebrows, and they all mopped at their faces as it began to melt. Adamant let the trapdoor fall shut, and blew out his lamp. Hawk looked at him.
“Is that it? Aren’t you going to bolt it, or something? If Hardcastle is as ruthless and determined as you’ve made him out to be, what’s to stop him sending assassins here to destroy Mortice’s body?”
Medley laughed shortly. “Anyone stupid enough to go down there wouldn’t be coming back out again. Mortice’s temper wasn’t very good when he was alive, and since he died he’s developed a very nasty sense of humour.”
Adamant’s study seemed reassuringly normal after the freezing cold and darkness of Mortice’s cellar. Hawk picked out the
most comfortable-looking chair, turned it so he wouldn’t have to sit with his back to the door, and sank down into it. Adamant started to say something and then thought better of it. He gestured for the others to take a seat, and busied himself with the wine decanters. Dannielle made as though to sit next to Hawk, and then quickly chose another chair when Fisher glared at her. Medley sat down beside Dannielle, who ignored him. Hawk leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs. First rule of the Guard: If you get a chance to sit down, take it. Guards spend a lot of time on their feet, and it tends to color their thinking.
The last of the cellar chill began to seep out of Hawk’s bones, and he sighed quietly. Adamant poured him a drink from one of the more expensive-looking decanters. Hawk sipped it, and made appreciative noises. It seemed a good vintage, though Fisher always insisted he had no palate for such things. Just as well, on a Guard’s wages. He put down his glass, and waited patiently for Adamant to finish pouring wine for the others. There were things that needed to be said.
“Sir Adamant, just how reliable is Mortice?”
Adamant finished putting the decanter away before answering. “Before he died—very. Now—I don’t know. After everything he’s been through it’s a wonder he’s still coherent, never mind sane. The experience would have broken a lesser man. It still might. As it is, his life now consists mainly of pain and despair. He has no hope and no future, and he knows it. His friendship with me is his last link with normality.”
“What about his magic?” said Fisher. “Is he still as powerful as he used to be?”
“He seems to be.” Adamant emptied his glass and poured himself another drink. His hand was perfectly steady. “In his day, Mortice was a very powerful sorcerer. He says he’s as strong now as he ever was, but there’s no denying his mind does tend to wander on occasion. No doubt that’s how those blood-creatures got in. If he ever cracks and gives in to all that pain and madness, I think we could all be in very great trouble.”
“You must realise this changes things,” said Hawk. “I can’t overlook something like this. Mortice could end up as a threat to the whole city.”
“Yes,” said Adamant. “He could. That’s why I’m telling you all this. I didn’t have to. Originally, I’d hoped you wouldn’t have to know about him at all. That’s why he took so long to deal with those blood-creatures. I’d instructed him not to give away his presence unless he absolutely had to. It wasn’t until I met him just now, and saw him through your eyes, that I realised how much he’s changed since his death. He used to be such a powerful man.”
“But as things stand we’re in no danger,” said Medley quickly. “You saw for yourself how calm and rational he is. Look; you’ll be right here with us all through the election. You can keep a close watch on him. If he shows any sign that his control’s slipping, then you can report him. It’s not as if he was that dangerous. There’s no doubt he’s a very powerful individual, but he couldn’t hope to stand against the combined might of all the Guard’s sorcerers. I mean those people take on rogue Beings from the Street of Gods. And Mortice isn’t exactly the High Warlock, now is he? In the meantime, we need him. Adamant won’t survive the election without Mortice’s support.”
Hawk looked at Fisher, who nodded slightly. “All right,” he said finally. “We’ll see how it goes. But once the election is over ...”
“Then we can talk about it again,” said Adamant.
“And if he turns dangerous?” said Fisher.
“Then you do what you have to,” said Adamant. “I know my responsibilities, Captain.”
An uncomfortable silence fell across the room. Dannielle cleared her throat, and everyone looked at her. “This isn’t the first time you’ve worked with a magic-user, is it, Captain Hawk: I seem to remember the sorcerer Gaunt was involved in the Blackstone case, wasn’t he?”
“Only marginally,” said Hawk. “I never knew him very well. He left Haven shortly afterwards.”
“Damn shame, that,” said Medley. “His loss was a great blow to the Reform Cause. Gaunt and Mortice were the only sorcerers of any note ever to ally themselves openly with the Reformers.”
“You’re better off without them,” said Hawk flatly. “You can’t trust magic, or the people who use it.”
Dannielle raised a painted eyebrow. “You sound as though you’ve had some bad experiences with sorcery, Captain Hawk.”
“Hawk has a long memory,” said Fisher. “And he bears grudges.”
“How about you, Captain Fisher?” said Adamant.
Fisher grinned. “I don’t get mad. I get even.”
“Right,” said Hawk.
“We haven’t discussed your politics yet,” said Adamant slowly. “What beliefs do you follow, if any? In my experience, Guards tend to be uninterested in politics, apart from the usual favours and payoffs. Most of the time they just support the status quo.”
“That’s our job,” said Hawk. “We don’t make the laws, we just enforce them. Even the ones we don’t agree with. Not all the Guards in Haven are crooked. You’ve got to expect some bribery and corruption, that’s how Haven works, but on the whole the Guard takes its job seriously. We have to; if we didn’t, the Council would replace us with someone who did. Too much corruption is bad for business, and the Quality doesn’t like its peace disturbed.”
“But what do you believe in?” said Medley. “You, and Captain Fisher?”
Hawk shrugged. “My wife is basically disinterested in politics. Right, Isobel?”
“Right,” said Fisher, holding out her empty glass to Adamant for a refill. “Only thing more corrupt than a politician is a week-old corpse after the blowflies have been at it. No offence, sir Adamant.”
“None taken,” said Adamant.
“As for me ...” Hawk pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Isobel and I come from the far North. We were both raised under absolute monarchies. Things were different there. It’s taken us both some time to adjust to the changes democracy has made in Haven and the Low Kingdoms. I don’t think we’ll ever get used to the idea of a constitutional monarch.
“On the whole, it seems to me that the same kind of people end up on top no matter what system you have, but at least in a democracy there’s room for change. Which is why I tend to favour Reform. The Conservatives don’t want any change because for the most part they’re rich and privileged, and they want to stay that way. The poor and the commoners should know their place.” Hawk grinned. “I’ve never known my place.”
“But as far as this election is concerned, we’re strictly neutral,” said Fisher. “It’s our job to protect you, and we’ll do that to the best of our ability. No one will bother you while we’re around. Not openly, anyway. But don’t waste time preaching to us. That’s not what we’re here for.”
“Of course,” said Medley. “We quite understand. Still, you’re being put to a great deal of trouble on our account. You’ll become targets, just by being associated with us. Under the circumstances, perhaps you would allow James and myself to show our appreciation by providing you with a little extra money, for expenses and the like. Shall we say five hundred ducats? Each?”
He reached inside his coat for his wallet, and then froze as he took in Hawk’s face. Silence fell across the room. Medley looked from Hawk to Fisher and back again, and a sudden chill went through him. A subtle change had come over the two Guards. There was a cold anger and violence in their faces; a violence barely held in check. For the first time, Medley realised how the two Guards had earned their grim reputation, and he believed every word of it. He wanted to look to Adamant for support, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the Guards.
“Are you offering us a bribe?” said Fisher softly.
“Not necessarily,” said Medley, trying to smile. The joke fell flat. Medley could feel sweat beading on his forehead.
“Get your hand away from that wallet,” said Hawk, “or we’ll do something unpleasant with it. You don’t want to know what.”
“We d
on’t take bribes,” said Fisher. “Ever. People trust us because they know we can’t be bought. By anyone.”
“My Advisor meant no offence,” said Adamant quickly. “He’s just not used to dealing with honest people.”
“Politics does that to you,” said Dannielle.
“And you have to admit, you are rather ... unusual, as Haven goes,” said Adamant.
“As Haven goes, we’re bloody unique,” said Fisher.
Hawk grinned. “You got that right.”
Medley pulled at his coat to straighten it, though it didn’t need straightening, and looked at the ornate brass-bound clock on the mantelpiece. “We’re running late, James. The faithful will be arriving soon for your big speech.”
“Of course, Stefan.” Adamant got to his feet, and smiled at Hawk and Fisher. “Come along, bodyguards. You should find this interesting.”
“You got that right,” said Dannielle.
Hawk leaned morosely against the landing wall and wished halfheartedly for a riot. Adamant’s followers filled the ballroom below, all of them cheerful and excited and buoyantly good-natured. They listened politely to Adamant’s stewards, and went where they were told without a murmur. Hawk couldn’t believe it. Usually in Haven you tracked down a political meeting by following the trail of broken bottles and mutilated corpses. Adamant’s followers were enthusiastic as all hell, particularly about him, but seemed uninterested in the traditional passtimes of cursing the enemy and planning his destruction. They actually seemed more interested in discussing the issues. Hawk shook his head slowly. As if elections in Haven had anything to do with issues. He’d bet good money that Hardcastle’s people weren’t wasting time discussing the issues. More likely they were busy planning death and bloodshed and general mayhem, and where best to make a start. Hawk glanced across at Fisher. She looked just as bored as he did. Hawk looked back at the crowd. Maybe someone would faint in the crush. Anything for a little excitement. Hawk had reached the stage where he would have welcomed an outbreak of plague, to relieve the tedium.