Swords of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk & Fisher

  “Oh, he’s fine,” said Kincaid. “Locked himself in your study with his girlfriend. I don’t think he knows anything’s happened. Just shouted at me to go away when I knocked on the door.”

  Adamant nodded, not really listening, and Kincaid led the way up the stairs to the next floor. His face was fixed and drawn. She must be dead, thought Hawk. Anything else, he would have said. They moved along the hallway to Adamant’s bedroom. Bearclaw was waiting outside the door. There was pity in his face as he looked at Adamant. Pity, and something else Hawk couldn’t read. Bearclaw opened the bedroom door, and everyone drew back a few steps to let Adamant go in first.

  In the bedroom, Dannielle was sitting on the bed. Her face was flushed, and she wouldn’t look Adamant in the eye. Kincaid picked up a small silver snuff box from the dressing table and handed it to Adamant. He looked at it blankly for a moment and then opened it. Inside was a small amount of grey-white powder.

  “Cocaine,” said Bearclaw. “We found her helping herself when we were searching this floor.”

  “Oh, great,” said Fisher. “That’s going to look really good when it gets out.”

  “It’s not going to get out,” said Adamant. “Not until after the election.” He looked at Dannielle, and his mouth tightened. “How could you, Danny? How could you do this to me?”

  “Oh, that’s typical, James. Never mind why I’m taking drugs; all you care about is your precious reputation.” Dannielle glared at him sullenly, her voice shrill and bitter. “I’ve been sniffing dust ever since you started campaigning for the Steppes. The best part of three months, and it’s taken you till now to notice. It’s all your fault, anyway. You never had time for me any more; all you talked and thought and dreamed about was your bloody campaign. I tried to go along, to be a part of it for your sake, but you never even noticed I was there.

  “We aren’t all as strong as you, James. You’ve been full of energy right from the beginning, inspired by your Cause, running full tilt from one thing to the next, with the rest of us straggling along behind you, trying to keep up. I just couldn’t anymore. I was tired all the time, and lonely and depressed. So I started sniffing dust now and again, just to give me a boost, make me feel human, and keep me going. Only the campaign just ground on and on, and I got more and more tired, and there were always more and more things that needed doing for your bloody Cause. And I needed more and more dust just to feel normal and get me through the day. I even had to embezzle from you to pay for the dust.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” said Adamant. He realised he was still holding the snuff box, and put it down on the dressing table. He wiped his fingers unconsciously on his sleeve, as though they were dirty.

  “When did I ever get a chance to talk to you?” said Dannielle. “We haven’t had a moment to ourselves in months.”

  Adamant started to say something heated in reply, and then stopped himself. When he spoke again his voice was low and cold and very controlled. “Perhaps you’re right, Danny. I don’t know. We’ll talk about it later. In the meantime, I have to think about how best to keep this quiet. A lot of people are counting on me to swing this election, and I won’t let them down. If news of this gets out, I’ll be ruined. I’ve made a lot of enemies in my stand against the drug trade, and they’d use a scandal like this to destroy me. Who else knows, apart from us? Who was your supplier?”

  Dannielle smiled almost triumphantly. “Lucien Sykes.”

  “What?”

  “Drugs come in through the docks, and he takes his share. Where do you suppose all the money came from that he’s been donating to your campaign?”

  Adamant turned away and closed his eyes for a moment. Nobody said anything. Adamant turned to Hawk and Fisher. “How much of this do you need to report?”

  “Not all of it,” said Hawk. “Keeping quiet about your wife comes under the general heading of protecting you. But Sykes is a different matter. We can’t ignore someone in his position. But he can wait until after the election tonight.”

  “Thank you,” said Adamant. “That’s all I can ask. Danny, pull yourself together, and then come down and help with my guests. People have been hurt.”

  “Do I get to keep my dust?”

  “Do you need it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then keep it.”

  Adamant turned and left the room, and the others followed him out.

  “I’m going to have to put out some kind of statement about the attack,” said Adamant as they went back downstairs. “To reassure my followers that I’m all right. Rumours spread like wildfire in Haven, particularly when it’s bad news. I’d better talk to Stefan. He’s probably still in my study with his lady friend.” He smiled briefly. “I did promise no one would barge in on them while they were there, but I’m sure he won’t mind, under the circumstances.”

  He led the way back to his study, and knocked briskly on the door. “Stefan, it’s James. I need to see you. Something’s come up.” He waited a moment, but there was no reply. Adamant smiled slightly, produced a key, and unlocked the door. He knocked again, and pushed the door open. Medley and Roxanne were sitting together. For a moment nobody moved as the two sides stared at each other, and then Roxanne grabbed her sword belt and drew her sword.

  “Get out of here, Stefan! They’ll kill us both!”

  She started towards Adamant, sword at the ready, and then stopped as Hawk and Fisher moved quickly forward to protect him. Medley got to his feet, but stood where he was, staring at Adamant’s horrified face. Roxanne grabbed a burning brand from the fire and set it to a hanging tapestry. Flames ran up the wall. She grabbed Medley’s arm and urged him towards the other door. Hawk and Fisher went after them as Bearclaw and Kincaid tried to beat out the fire before it could spread. Adamant just stood where he was, watching.

  Roxanne backed away from Hawk and Fisher one step at a time, her sword sweeping back and forth before her, keeping the Guards at bay. She was grinning broadly, and her eyes were full of death. She glanced back over her shoulder just long enough to be sure that Medley was safely through the door. Then after a moment’s hesitation, she turned and ran after him. Hawk and Fisher plunged after her, but she slammed the door in their faces and turned the key on the other side. Hawk lifted his axe to break down the door, and then lowered it again. His job was to protect Adamant, not to chase after traitors. Medley and Roxanne would keep for another day. He put away his axe, and after a moment Fisher sheathed her sword. Kincaid and Bearclaw had torn down the burning tapestry, and were stamping out the flames. Adamant was still standing in the doorway, staring at nothing. Hawk glanced at Fisher, who shrugged uncertainly. He moved tentatively towards Adamant, and the politician’s eyes came back into focus. He had to swallow two or three times before he could speak.

  “My wife is taking drugs supplied by one of my main backers. My guests have been attacked in my own dining hall, and most of my men-at-arms are dead. And now it turns out my closest friend has been a traitor all along. I never knew politics could cost so much.” For a moment he couldn’t get his breath, and Hawk thought Adamant might cry, but the moment passed and some of his strength came back to him. His face hardened, and when he spoke again his voice was strained but steady.

  “Not a word of this to anyone. We can’t afford for my supporters to know how badly we’ve been betrayed. It will all come out after the election, but by then it won’t matter, whatever the result. So, we’ll go back to the dining hall, reassure my guests, and keep our mouths shut about all this.

  “But win or lose, Stefan Medley is a dead man.”

  Medley followed Roxanne through the packed streets, dazed and unquestioning. It was all like some horrible nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. One moment he’d been cherishing a snatched moment with Roxanne, and the next he was running for his life. He didn’t know where he was running to; Roxanne had taken over as soon as they left the house. He couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything; all he could see was Adamant’s face, and the look of
betrayal in his eyes. Roxanne led him through increasingly narrow and squalid streets until finally they came to the Sheep’s Head Inn, a quiet backwater tavern they’d used before for their few assignations.

  The bartender showed no interest in seeing them again, but then he never did. That was one .of the reasons why they’d chosen the place. Roxanne collected the key and led the way up the back stairs to their usual room, and for the first time they were able to sit down and look at each other.

  “All in all, it’s been an interesting day,” said Roxanne. “Pity I didn’t have time to kill Hawk and Fisher, but there’ll be other times.”

  “Is that all you’ve got to say?” said Medley. “My life is ruined, my reputation isn’t worth spit any more, and all you can think about is fighting a couple of Guards? We’ve got to get out of Haven, Roxanne. James won’t move against us while the election’s still running, but once that’s over he’ll send every man he’s got after us. His pride won’t let him do anything else. And you can bet he won’t have given them orders to bring us back alive.”

  “We can go to Hardcastle,” said Roxanne. “He’ll protect us. If only to spite Adamant.”

  “No,” said Medley. “Not Hardcastle. I’ve hurt him too badly in the past. He has scores to settle with me. Look, Roxanne, this is our chance to get away from all this and start over.”

  “But I don’t want to leave,” said Roxanne. “I don’t run from anyone. Besides, I like working for Hardcastle. The pay’s good, and the work is interesting. I’m staying.”

  Medley looked at her for a long moment. “Why are you doing this to me, Roxanne?”

  “Doing what?”

  “I love you, Roxanne, but I can’t go to Hardcastle. If you love me, you won’t ask me to.”

  Roxanne looked down at the floor, and then back at him again. “Sorry, Stefan, but I told you; I work for Hardcastle. You were just another job. Hardcastle’s sorcerer set me on you, as a way of getting to Adamant. You told me all kinds of useful things without realising it. You were fun, but now the masks are off and the game’s over. You lost. I’m sorry to rush you, Stefan, but I have to be going now.”

  She got to her feet, and Medley stood up to face her. “So it was all nothing but lies; all the things you said to me. I betrayed my best friend and dragged my honour through the mud, all for you; and now you’re telling me it was all for nothing? I can’t believe that, Roxanne. I won’t believe that.”

  She shrugged. “Don’t take it so personally. It’s just business. No hard feelings?”

  Medley sat down again, as though all the strength had gone out of his legs. “No; no hard feelings, Roxanne.”

  She smiled at him briefly, and left, closing the door quietly behind her. Medley stared at the closed door, listening to the sound of her footsteps disappearing down the stairs.

  7

  DESPERATE CHOICES

  All the clocks in Haven struck eight in the evening, and the polls finally opened. Brightly colored election booths appeared on the designated street comers, in the time it took for the bells to toll the hour. Magically created and maintained by the Council’s circle of sorcerers, they were as near to being corruption-proof as anything in Haven could be. Once a vote had been registered and placed in the metal box, nothing but the most powerful sorceries could get at it again. There were fingerprint checks to make sure everyone was who they claimed to be, and to keep out simulacra and homunculi. Haven’s voters were a devious lot when it came to corruption and cheating.

  The inns and the brothels were still going strong, though the free booze had run out long ago. Some of the day-long revellers were busy sleeping it off on tavern floors and tables, uncaring that they were missing the very chance to vote that they’d been celebrating. Bets were still being made, at widely varying odds, and rumour and speculation ran rife. People thronged the streets, dressed in their best. An election was an Occasion, a chance to see and be seen. Pickpockets and cutpurses had never had it so good. Ballad singers stood at every street comer, singing the latest broadsheets about the two main candidates, interspersed now and then with requested old favourites. There were jugglers and conjurers and stilt-walkers, and of course any number of street preachers making the most of the occasion, always on the lookout for a crowd and anyone who looked like they might stand still long enough to be preached at.

  The voting began, as Haven made its choice.

  Roxanne leaned back in her chair and stretched her legs languorously as Hardcastle poured her a glass of his best wine. He was smiling broadly, and positively radiating good cheer. It didn’t suit him. Wulf and Jillian stood quietly in the background.

  “You’ve done well, Roxanne,” said Hardcastle, pouring himself a large drink. “Without Medley to help him, Adamant’s organisation will fall apart at the seams, and he’ll lose every advantage he’s gained. All it needs now is a few more pushes in the right places, and everything he’s built will collapse around him. It’s a pity you didn’t get a chance to kill him, but it’s just as well. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want him dead just yet. I want him to suffer first.

  “It’s not enough to kill Adamant. Not anymore. I want to beat him first. I want to humiliate the man; rub his nose in the fact that all his whining Reformers are no match for a Conservative. I don’t just want him dead; I want him broken.”

  Roxanne shrugged noncommittally and sipped at her wine. She’d taken advantage of the speech to study Jillian Hardcastle and the sorcerer Wulf. Both of them looked rather the worse for wear. Jillian had a bruised and swollen mouth, and was holding herself awkwardly, as though favouring a hidden pain. Wulf looked tired and drawn. There were dark bruises of fatigue under his eyes, and his gaze was more than a little wild. He seemed preoccupied, as though listening to a voice only he could hear. Roxanne realised Hardcastle had stopped talking, and quickly turned her attention back to him.

  “All right,” she said equably. “What do we do now?”

  “We need to isolate Adamant even further,” said Hardcastle. “We’ve taken away his Advisor. Who does that leave him to lean on? The two Guards, Hawk and Fisher. They’ve been acting all along like Adamant’s paid men, for all their vaunted impartiality. With them out of the way, Adamant should crumble and fall apart nicely.”

  Roxanne nodded. “I can take either of them on their own, but killing both of them would be tricky.” She smiled suddenly. “Fun, though.”

  “I don’t want them killed,” said Hardcastle flatly. “I want them kidnapped. They have interfered in my life far too often, and they’re going to pay the price. They’ll beg for death before I’m finished with them.”

  “I can’t guarantee to take both of them alive,” said Roxanne. “One perhaps, but not both.”

  “I thought you might say that,” said Hardcastle, “So I’ve arranged some help for you.” He tugged at the bell pull by his desk. There was a short, uncomfortable pause, and then the study door opened and Pike and Da Silva came in. Roxanne studied them warily from her chair.

  Pike was tall and muscular, in his mid-twenties, with a clear open face and a nasty smile. He moved well, and carried his chain mail as though it were weightless. He was a familiar type; throw a stick in a gladiators’ training school and you’d hit a dozen just like him. Da Silva was short and stocky, with a broad chest and a wrestler’s overdeveloped arm muscles. He was a few years older than Pike, and looked it. His face was heavy and bony, and would have looked brutish even without the perpetual scowl that tugged at his features. As well as a sword, he carried a four-foot-long headbreaker of solid oak weighted with lead at both ends.

  Independently they were proficient-enough mercenaries, but working together as a team they’d built a reputation for death and mayhem that almost rivalled Roxanne’s. She glared at them both, and then switched her glare to Hardcastle.

  “Why do you need them? You’ve got me.”

  “I want Hawk and Fisher taken alive,” said Hardcastle. “The only way to do that without major casualties
to my side is to make sure we have the advantage of overwhelming numbers. Pike and Da Silva command a troop of fifty mercenaries. You will lead them against Adamant’s people. Wulf will supply magical protection. Is that clear?”

  Roxanne shrugged. “You’re the boss, Hardcastle. What do we do after we’ve taken Hawk and Fisher?”

  “I’ve set aside a place for them. Pike and Da Silva have the details. Adamant and his people should be hitting the streets in about half an hour. Follow them, pick your spot, and do the job. No excuses on this one; I want them alive. I have plans for Hawk and Fisher.”

  * * *

  James Adamant led his people out into the High Steppes, determined to make as many speeches as he could while the polls were still open. None of his people said anything, but it was clear to everyone that Adamant needed to reassure himself of his popularity after so many things having gone wrong. So with tired limbs and weary hearts they followed him out onto the streets one last time. Adamant strode ahead, out in front for all to see, with Dannielle at his side. Hawk and Fisher followed close behind. Adamant’s supporters had dispersed and gone home after the debacle of the victory banquet, so only half a dozen mercenaries accompanied Adamant on his last excursion into the Steppes, with Bearclaw and Kincaid bringing up the rear. It was a far cry from the cheerful, confident host that had followed him on his first outing, but a lot had happened since then.

  Adamant hurried from street to street at a pace his retinue was hard pressed to match, as though he was trying to leave his most recent memories behind and be again the confident, unworried politician he had been at the start of the day. Hawk and Fisher stretched their legs and kept up with him. They walked with weapons drawn, just in case Hardcastle tried for a last-minute assassination. Hawk kept a careful watch on Dannielle. He’d wanted to leave her behind, but she’d insisted on going with them. Trouble was, she was right. Her presence was a vote winner, and her absence would have raised questions Adamant couldn’t afford to answer. She’d thrown the last of her dust on the fire before she left. Adamant had just nodded stiffly, and turned away. They were walking arm in arm and smiling at the crowds, but they hadn’t exchanged five words since they left the house.