Wolf in the Fold

  "Well, at least we've got something to show for the chase," said Hawk.

  "Yeah," said Fisher. "Pity about Fenris, though. We were that close to getting him…"

  "Forget it," said Hawk. "He's long gone by now, with a new face and build, the crafty bastard. We'll have to start over from scratch."

  "Right. Our superiors are not going to be pleased with us."

  They sat in silence for a while.

  "There isn't a reward on Grimm, by any chance, is there?" said Hawk hopefully.

  "No chance. There's never been any real evidence against him. Still, he's dropped himself right in it this time. Aiding and abetting a fugitive, resisting arrest, assaulting the Guard…"

  "Right," said Hawk. "Once he wakes up, he's going to have some very leading questions to answer."

  "Assuming he hasn't got concussion, and lost his memory."

  Hawk groaned. "Don't. It would be just our luck if we had accidentally scrambled his brains. Come on, let's have a look round the place while we're here. Maybe we'll get lucky and find a clue or something."

  They moved cautiously round Grimm's quarters, being very careful not to touch anything without checking it out first. Magic-users were often fond of setting booby traps for the unwary. Hawk's usual method of searching the premises was to trash the place until it looked like a hurricane had hit it, but this room already looked as if someone had beaten him to it. Grimm was one of those people who lived in a permanent mess and liked it that way. His quarters took up the whole of the first floor—a single long room littered with junk and debris of every description.

  There were racks of chemicals, glass vials and tubing, pewter mugs and mixing bowls, all scattered over two huge tables. Together with papers and books and what appeared to be the remains of at least three different meals. Hawk tossed aside a discarded shirt and grimaced as he discovered a dead cat, dissected into its component parts and neatly pinned to a display board. Beneath the cat were detailed instructions on how to put the animal back together again. Either Grimm had a really nasty sense of humor, or… Hawk decided very firmly that he wasn't going to think about that.

  The bed looked as though Grimm had left it exactly as he'd crawled out of it. Fisher peered underneath, just in case, but there was nothing there except dust and a chamber pot. A combination desk and writing table looked more interesting. She eased the drawers open one by one with the tip of her sword, and smiled as she came across a thick sheaf of papers. She ran the suppressor stone over the desk, and then carefully removed the papers, watching all the time in case there was a mechanical booby trap as well. She leafed quickly through the papers, scowling as she tried to make out Grimm's scratchy handwriting.

  Hawk looked into a recessed alcove, and his breath caught in his throat. A dozen different faces lined the wall; skins so skillfully taken and mounted they seemed almost alive. Hawk fought down his disgust and looked them over carefully. They were all unique, no two even remotely alike. Presumably they were models for the faces Grimm could give his customers. He'd better get a Guard sketch artist in to make copies. Fenris might be wearing one of these faces. He moved closer and studied them thoughtfully. Whatever else you could say about Grimm, he knew his stuff. The faces were incredibly lifelike. He reached out a hand to touch one, and then snatched his hand back as the face opened its eyes and looked at him. A grimace of pain moved slowly across the flat features, and the mouth stretched in a soundless scream. The other faces stirred, eyes opening across the wall to fix Hawk with the same unblinking look of agonized despair. Hawk's stomach lurched as he realized they were all still alive, pinned up and endlessly suffering.

  Whatever happened, Hawk swore he'd see Grimm brought to justice for this, at least.

  "Isobel, get over here, fast."

  Fisher ran quickly to join him, sword in hand, and stared numbly at the writhing faces on the wall. "My God, Hawk. What kind of bastard… We've got to do something. We can't leave them like this."

  "No, we can't. Try the suppressor stone. Maybe it'll cancel out the magic that's keeping them alive."

  Fisher nodded, and ran the stone slowly over the staring faces. One by one the eyes closed and did not open again. The life went out of the faces, and soon they were nothing more than empty masks, pinned to a wall. At rest, at last. Fisher touched a few of them tentatively, but they didn't respond. The skin was soft, but already cooling. Just to be sure, Hawk had her run the suppressor stone over the dissected cat as well.

  They took turns examining the papers Fisher had found in Grimm's desk. They seemed to be records of services Grimm had provided in the past, but no names were ever mentioned, only initials. It was mostly cosmetic sorcery, though some of the more bizarre requests made Hawk blink. There was no accounting for taste. But interesting though the documents were, there was nothing in them to tie Grimm in with the spy Fenris. Or at least, nothing Hawk could recognize. He threw the papers back onto the desk, and looked frustratedly around him.

  "We're not going to find anything here. He's too careful, too meticulous. Probably keeps the important information locked up in his head."

  So let the Guard sorcerers get it out of him," said Fisher. "Let them earn their money for a change."

  There was a low groan from behind them, and they looked quickly round. At the other end of the room the sorcerer Grimm was rising unsteadily to his feet. He shook his head once to clear it, and then his gaze fell on Hawk and Fisher and his face darkened. He smiled slowly, removed his robe and threw it to one side. Ropes of muscle bulged suddenly across his bare chest and shoulders, pushing out the taut skin. Hawk and Fisher watched transfixed as the sorcerer changed. His body stretched and swelled, impossible muscles crawling over an inhumanly magnified frame. His face trembled, the features shifting grotesquely as his inner rage expressed itself in distorted flesh and bone. His eyes became featureless black pools, and sharp jagged teeth distorted the shape of his mouth. Grimm padded slowly forward, his crooked hands growing razored claws.

  "I think we may have a problem here," said Hawk, taking a firm hold on his axe.

  "You always did have a gift for understatement," said Fisher. "What the hell's happening to him?"

  "From the look of it, I'd say the sorcerer wasn't averse to sampling his own wares. He's got to the stage where he can shapechange at will."

  "You know, this strikes me as a good time to get the hell out of here and yell for reinforcements."

  "We can't. He's between us and the nearest door. We're going to have to stop him ourselves."

  "Oh, great. How?"

  "I'm thinking!"

  Grimm lurched forward, his jaws snapping shut like a steel trap. There was no longer anything human in his face. Hawk and Fisher quickly separated, to attack him from different sides, and each of the sorcerer's eyes crawled to different positions on his head so that he could watch both Guards at once. Hawk darted in and cut at Grimm with his axe. The heavy steel head sheared through the sorcerer's waist and out again, but no blood flew. The wound closed immediately, the unnatural flesh flowing seamlessly back together again. Fisher cut at Grimm from the other side, to no better effect. The sorcerer reached for Hawk with a gnarled, clawed hand. Hawk quickly retreated, but the hand just kept coming after him as the arm stretched to an impossible length.

  "The stone!" yelled Hawk, backing frantically away. "Try the suppressor stone on him!"

  "I've already tried that! It doesn't seem to affect him!"

  "Well, keep trying!" Hawk threw himself to one side and the clawing hand dug deep furrows in the wall behind him. He darted behind the writing desk. Grimm demolished it with one blow of a spiked arm. Hawk looked quickly round the room, checking for possible escape routes. Fisher clutched the suppressor stone in her hand, muttering the activating phrase over and over again. The stone suddenly flared with light, bright and dazzling, burning her hand with sudden heat. Fisher threw the stone straight at the sorcerer's misshapen face. He snatched it out of midair and looked at it curiously. Th
e stone exploded, ripping the sorcerer's head from his body and shattering every window in the room.

  For a long moment there was silence, broken only by soft settling sounds as debris from the explosion pattered to the floor. Hawk and Fisher got slowly to their feet, brushing dust from their clothes. Where the hideous creature had been, lay a headless human body. Hawk shook his head gingerly, trying to shift the ringing in his ears. Fisher put an arm round his shoulders, and they leaned companionably together for a moment.

  "We didn't do too well with this one, did we, Hawk?"

  "You could say that. Fenris has escaped, with a new face and body. The one man who could have helped us find him is now dead. And on top of all that, we've lost our suppressor stone. Some days you just shouldn't get out of bed."

  "Well," said Fisher, "at least this time they can't blame us for being impulsive." Hawk looked at her. Fisher gestured at Grimm's body. "After all, he's the one who lost his head."

  Chapter Two

  Fenris Gone to Ground

  The cleanup squad finally made its appearance, with a meat wagon not far behind. Two Guard Constables chalked a rough outline round the headless body, and made laborious notes about the state of the corpse. The forensic sorcerer waited impatiently for them to finish, already in a foul mood at being dragged from his bed so early in the morning. Hawk and Fisher leant against a wall together, drinking the late sorcerer's wine and trying to put together some kind of report that wouldn't get them both busted down to Constable, or beyond.

  The two Constables unhurriedly compared notes, and then got out of the way so that the forensic sorcerer could do his stuff. He glared venomously at them, then knelt down by the body and rolled up his sleeves. Hawk and Fisher looked at each other and unanimously decided this might be a good time to get some fresh air. On-the-spot autopsies tended to be thorough, but messy. Hawk drained the last of the wine from the bottle he and Fisher had been passing back and forth, and his lips thinned away from the dregs. It had been a piss-poor vintage, but the sourness suited his mood. No matter what kind of report he and Fisher eventually handed in, he had no doubt they were both in real trouble.

  They left Grimm's quarters and clattered down the exterior stairway to the street below. The meat wagon's horses tossed their heads and snorted loudly, their breath steaming on the chill air. Hawk looked away. Reminders of his own mortality made him uncomfortable. Strange lights flared in the windows above as the forensic sorcerer set about dismantling Grimm's remaining wards and shields, and defusing any booby traps that hadn't yet been triggered. Fisher hugged herself as a cold wind swept by.

  "I can't help thinking we're missing something, Hawk. We know why Fenris came here; to get a new face. But how did Grimm get involved with Fenris in the first place? He had a nice little racket going here. Judging by the records we found, he was already making more money than he knew what to do with. So why risk it all, by dealing with a traitor? He didn't need the money, and there's nothing in his file to suggest he was at all political."

  "Maybe he just liked the excitement, the intrigue," said Hawk. "He wouldn't be the first fool to be seduced by dreams of making history, of playing with the real shakers and movers. Or maybe he just had some kind of grudge against the Council, and saw this as his chance for revenge. I've known stranger motives. Doesn't make much difference now, anyway. The man is dead, and our case died with him. Odds are we'll never find out what it was all about."

  The low, steady clamor of a brass bell filled both their heads as the Guard communications sorcerer made contact. Hawk shook his head gingerly as the deep ringing sound faded away. "I think I preferred it when he used the gong. That bloody bell goes right through me." He broke off as the bell gave way to the rasping voice of the communications sorcerer.

  Captains Hawk and Fisher are to report to Commander Dubois at Guard Headquarters immediately. This instruction has top priority. All other orders are rescinded.

  Hawk and Fisher waited a moment to see if there was any more, and then looked at each other. "Didn't take long for the news to reach our superiors, did it?" said Hawk.

  Fisher shrugged. "Haven loves bad news. And you can bet there were people lining up for the chance to drop us in it. We've always been too honest to be popular."

  "What the hell," said Hawk. "We've weathered worse storms than this."

  "Right," said Fisher. "Just keep our heads down, and it'll all blow over."

  "You really believe that?"

  "No. How about you?"

  "No. Even so, Dubois had better not shout at me," said Hawk firmly. "I'm not in the mood to be shouted at. In fact, if he raises his voice to me I think I'll hit him somewhere low and painful."

  "How is that going to help us?"

  "It couldn't hurt."

  "True."

  Hawk and Fisher had barely walked through the front door at Guard Headquarters when a Constable appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and insisted on escorting them straight to Dubois' office. Other Guards avoided Hawk's and Fisher's eyes as they made their way through the Headquarters building. Word had got around and no one wanted to risk guilt by association. Hawk smiled humorlessly, and let his hand drift down to the axe at his side. He glanced across at Fisher, and saw that her hand was already resting on the pommel of her sword.

  The Constable brought them to Dubois' office and knocked briskly on the door. There was barely a pause before the Commander's voice summoned them in. The Constable opened the door, and stood back for Hawk and Fisher to enter. Hawk strolled casually in, Fisher at his side. The door shut behind them. Hawk listened carefully, but didn't hear any sound of the Constable departing. Now, that was interesting. It meant that the man was still there. Presumably on guard to keep people out… or in. Hawk smiled inwardly as he and Fisher bowed formally to Commander Dubois. If he and Fisher decided it was in their best interests to leave in a hurry, it would take a lot more than one Guard Constable to stop them.

  Dubois glared at Hawk and Fisher from behind his desk and sniffed disgustedly. "Gods, you're a mess. I've seen beggars in the Devil's Hook who looked more presentable than you two do right now. You're a disgrace to your uniform."

  Hawk looked down at himself, and had to admit the Commander had a point. His clothes were badly torn and soaked with blood from the various fights he'd got involved in that evening. A quick glance at Fisher revealed she hadn't fared any better. Her furs were stained and matted from the garbage she'd fallen in outside Madam Zara's. And what with all the exertions of the evening, the fact was they both smelled pretty bad. Hawk had a sudden intense desire to stand downwind of himself. He looked back at Dubois, and put on his best innocent face. Dubois glared at him even harder. The complete lack of hair on his head somehow made his scowl all the more impressive.

  "And you've lost your cloak again, Hawk! What happened this time? Someone sneak up behind you and steal it while you weren't looking? Where the hell is your cloak?"

  Hawk had to stop and think, so Fisher quickly answered for him. "It's pinned to a wall in a spiritualist's house."

  Dubois winced. "I'm not even going to ask you what you were doing at a spiritualist's. I don't think my nerves could stand it. Do you realize, Hawk, you go through more new cloaks in a year than most Guards use up in a lifetime's service to the city? Do you know how much those cloaks cost?"

  "Yes," said Hawk. "Because you always deduct the cost from my wages."

  "Damn right!" said Dubois. "You're not screwing up my budget for the year. Perhaps you would also like to explain why you failed to turn in your suppressor stone to the Armory, as ordered."

  "Would that help to get us off the hook?" said Hawk.

  "Not in the least."

  "Then I don't think I'll bother."

  Fisher butted in quickly as Dubois' face darkened. "Be fair; it saved both our arses tonight. If the stone hadn't blown up in Grimm's face when it did, we might both have been killed."

  "I could live with that," said Dubois.

  He picked up a she
et of paper from his desk and frowned at it. Hawk studied the Commander's bowed head thoughtfully. Something was going on. Dubois should be tearing strips off them for letting Fenris get away, not carping about their appearance, or niggling over lost cloaks and the illegal use of a suppressor stone. Dubois had never made any secret of the fact that he didn't approve of Hawk and Fisher's methods, and was usually only too happy to find something about their work he could criticize. The Fenris debacle should have been just what he needed to bust them down to Constable, or worse. Instead, he hadn't even mentioned the spy. If he hadn't known better, Hawk would have sworn Dubois was trying to avoid telling them something unpleasant.

  Hawk's mind raced furiously. Maybe the Council had found out about Fenris getting away, and had decided to blame everything on the two Guards. It wouldn't be too hard for the Council to make out a case of treason against them. They could claim the Guards had deliberately let the spy escape, and then killed Grimm to cover their tracks. Hawk forced himself to calm down. It needn't be that bad. It could be that Dubois just had some really nasty job lined up for them, as penance for failing to bring in Fenris. Now, that was much more likely. Hawk began to relax a little. Whatever it was, he and Fisher could handle it. After five years working the Northside they could handle anything.

  Dubois carefully put down the piece of paper, tapped it with his fingers a few times, and then looked up at Hawk and Fisher. "For once in your lives, you've struck it lucky. We know where Fenris is. The Council circle of sorcerers knew that Grimm was somehow involved with the traitors, and kept an unobtrusive watch on him. So when Fenris did a runner with his new face, they were able to follow him magically, all the way to his new hiding place."