Fisher stirred uneasily at Hawk's side, picking up some of his tension, and he made himself relax a little. Nothing was going to happen. Adamant and Medley had everything planned, right down to the last detail. Hardcastle's people wouldn't interfere here. They might not know about Mortice himself, but they had to know some magic-user was looking out for Adamant. Hawk gnawed at his lower lip, and looked across at Adamant. He was still smiling and waving, milking the moment for all it was worth. Dannielle stood serenely at his side, doing her best to be openly supportive without drawing any attention away from her husband. Medley looked uncomfortable in the spotlight, but no one expected him to be charismatic. It was enough that he was there, openly allied with Adamant.
Hawk looked back at the crowd in the mirror, which still showed no signs of cooling down. They all had flags or banners or placards, and they all wore the blue ribbon of the Reform Cause. They were a mixture of types and classes, with no obvious connections. There were a large number of poorly dressed, hard-worn characters whose reasons for supporting Reform seemed clear. But there were others whose clothes and bearing marked them clearly as tradesmen and merchants, and there were even some members of the Quality. Usually the only place you'd find such a combination gathered peacefully together was in the city morgue or the debtors' prison. And yet here they were, standing happily shoulder to shoulder, united in friendship and purpose by the man they trusted and cheered for. Politics made for strange bedfellows. Adamant lifted his hands suddenly, and the crowd's cheering died quickly away, replaced by an expectant hush.
Hawk watched closely from the shadows of the landing. There was something different about Adamant now. Something powerful. He seemed to have grown suddenly in stature and authority, as though the crowd's belief in him had made him the hero they needed him to be. The man Hawk had met earlier had been pleasant enough, even charming. But this new Adamant had a power and charisma that set him ablaze like a beacon in the night. His presence filled the ballroom. For the first time, Hawk understood why Hardcastle was afraid of this man.
The room was totally silent now. All eyes were fixed on Adamant. There was a hungry, determined feel to the silence that Hawk didn't like. It occurred to him that the relationship between Adamant and his followers wasn't just a one-way street. These people worshipped him, they might even die for him, but in a way they owned him too. They defined what he was and what he might be.
Adamant's speech lasted the better part of an hour, and the crowd lapped it up. He talked about the dark side of Haven, the sweatshops and the work gangs, the company shops that made sure their employees stayed poor, and the company bullies who dealt with anyone who dared speak out. He talked about rotten food and foul drinking water, about houses with holes in the roof and rats in the walls— and the crowd reacted with shock and outrage, as though they'd never known such things existed. Adamant made them see their world with fresh eyes, and see how bad it really was.
He told them about the powerful and privileged men who cared nothing for the poor because they were born into the wrong class and therefore were nothing more than animals, to be used and discarded as their betters saw fit. He told them of the titled men and women who gorged themselves on six-course meals in gorgeous banquet halls, while the children of the poor died in the streets from hunger and exposure—and the raw hatred from the crowd was a palpable presence in the ballroom.
And then he told them things didn't have to be that way anymore.
He told them of the Cause. Of Reform, and how the evils of Haven would finally be done away with, not by violence and revolution, but by slow, continued change. By people working together, instead of against each other, regardless of class or wealth or position. It wasn't going to be easy. There were those in Haven who would fight and die rather than see the system change. Reform would be a long fight and a hard fight, but in the end Reform would win, because working together the people were stronger by far than the privileged individuals who sought to keep them in their place, in the gutter. Adamant smiled proudly down at the men and women before him. Let others call us trouble-makers and anarchists, he said quietly; We will show the people of Haven it isn't true. We are just men and women who have had enough, and will see justice done. Whatever it takes.
They can't kill us all.
Adamant finally stopped speaking, and for a moment there was silence. And then the crowd roared its agreement in a single, determined voice. Adamant had taken a crowd of individuals and forged them into an army, and they knew it. All they needed now was an enemy to fight, and they'd find that soon enough out on the streets. Hawk watched the crowd in the mirror, impressed but deeply disturbed. Raising violent emotions like these was dangerous for everyone involved. If Hardcastle could raise similar feelings in his followers, there would be blood and death in the streets when the two sides met.
Adamant raised his hands again, and the crowd grew still. He paused a moment, as though searching for just the right words, and then talked to them slowly and calmly about how they should deal with the enemy. Violence was Hardcastle's way, not theirs. Let the voters see who needed to resort to violence first, and then they'd see who spoke the truth, and who dared not let it be heard. Adamant looked out over his people. It was inevitable that people were going to be hurt in the hours ahead, maybe even killed. But whatever happened, they were only ever to defend themselves, and then only as much as was needed. It was easy to fall into the trap of hatred and revenge, but that was the enemy's way, not theirs. Reform fought to change, not destroy.
He paused again, to let the thought sink in, and then suddenly raised his voice in happiness and good cheer. He filled the audience's hearts with hope and resolve, wished them all good fortune, bowed once, and then strode unhurriedly off into the shadows of the landing, followed by Dannielle and Medley. His audience cheered him till their hearts were raw, and then filed slowly out of the ballroom, laughing and chattering excitedly about the day ahead. Back in the concealing shadows of the landing, Adamant sank wearily into his chair and let his breath out in a long, slow sigh of relief.
"I think that went rather well," he said finally. He put out a hand to Dannielle, and she took it firmly in both of hers.
"It should have," said Medley. "We spent long enough rehearsing it."
"Oh, never mind him," said Dannielle, glaring at Medley. "You were wonderful, darling! Listen to them, James; they're still cheering you!"
"It's a hard life being a politician," said Adamant solemnly. "All this power and adulation… How will I ever stand the pressure?"
Medley snorted. "Wait till we get out on the streets, James. That's when the real work starts. They do things differently out there."
Half an hour later the faithful had all departed, but Adamant and company were back in the study again. Adamant had visitors. Garrett Walpole and Lucien Sykes were businessmen, so successful that even Hawk and Fisher had heard of them. Their families were as old as Haven, and if their money hadn't come from trade, they could both have been leading members of the Quality. As it was, the lowest member of High Society wouldn't have deigned to so much as sneer in their direction. Tradesmen used the back door, no matter how wealthy they were. Which was at least partly why Walpole and Sykes had come visiting. Not that they would ever have admitted it, of course. They shook hands formally with Adamant, and nodded generally around them as Adamant made the introductions.
"Your Advisor can stay," said Sykes briskly, "but the others will have to leave. Our business here is confidential, Adamant."
Hawk smiled, and shook his head. "We're bodyguards. We stay with sir Adamant."
Walpole looked at Hawk and Fisher amusedly. "Call off your dogs, will you, James? Perhaps your wife could take them to the kitchens for a cup of tea, or something, until our business is finished."
"Don't care much for tea," said Fisher. "We stay."
"You'll do as you're damned well told!" snapped Sykes. "Now, get out, and don't come back till we call you. Adamant, tell them."
&
nbsp; Hawk smiled slowly, and Sykes paled suddenly as his breath caught in his throat. Without moving a muscle, a change had come over Hawk. He suddenly looked… dangerous. The scarred face was cold and impassive, and Sykes couldn't help noticing how Hawk's hand rested on the axe at his side. The room suddenly seemed very small, with nowhere to turn.
"We're bodyguards," said Hawk softly. "We stay."
"Gentlemen, please!" said Adamant quickly. "There's no need for any unpleasantness. We're all friends here. Hawk, Fisher, these gentlemen are my guests. I would be obliged if you would show them every courtesy while they're in my house."
"Of course," said Hawk. His tone was impeccably polite, but the gaze from his single dark eye was still disturbingly cold. Sykes looked at Fisher, but if anything her smile was even more disturbing.
"There's no cause for alarm, my friends," said Adamant. "My bodyguards fully understand our need for confidentiality. You have my word that nothing discussed here will go beyond the walls of this room."
Walpole looked at Sykes, who nodded grudgingly. Hawk smiled. Fisher leaned against the mantelpiece and folded her arms.
"But your wife will still have to leave," said Sykes stubbornly. "This is not women's business."
Dannielle flushed angrily, and looked to Adamant for support, but he was already nodding slowly. "Very well, Lucien, if you insist. Danny, if you wouldn't mind…"
Dannielle shot him a quick look of betrayal, and then gathered her composure sufficiently to smile graciously round the room before leaving. She didn't slam the door behind her, but it felt as though she had. Adamant gestured for Walpole and Sykes to be seated, and waited patiently for them to settle themselves comfortably before pouring them wine from the most delicately fashioned decanter. Hawk and Fisher held out their glasses for a refill. Adamant handed them the decanter, and pulled up a chair opposite his visitors. The two Guards remained standing. Hawk studied the two businessmen surreptitiously over his wineglass. He didn't move in their circle, but he knew them both by reputation. Guards made it their business to know the movers and shakers of Haven's community by sight. You could avoid a lot of embarrassment that way.
Garrett Walpole was a bluff military type in his late fifties. He'd spent twenty years in the Low Kingdoms army before retiring to take over the family business, and it showed. He still wore his hair in a regulation military cut, and his back was straight as a sword blade. He wore sober clothes of a conservative cut, and sat back in his chair as though he owned the place.
Lucien Sykes was an overweight, ruddy-faced man in his late forties. He wore the latest fashion with more determination than style, and looked more than a little uneasy in present company. Sykes was big in the import-export business, which was why he'd come to Adamant. The Dock-workers Guild was in the second week of its strike, and nothing was moving in or out of the docks. The Conservative-backed DeWitt brothers were trying to break the strike with blackleg zombie workers, but so far that hadn't worked out too well. Zombies needed a lot of supervision, and weren't what you'd call efficient workers. As it was, the Dock-workers Guild had more reason than usual to be mad at the Conservatives, and had lined up firmly behind the Reformers. So if Sykes wanted to get his ships in or out of the docks any time soon, he was going to need help from the right people. Reform people.
Hawk grinned. He might be new to politics, but he knew a few things.
"Well," said Adamant finally, after everyone had sipped their drinks and the silence had dragged on uncomfortably long, "what exactly can I do for you, my friends? Normally I'd be only too happy to sit and chat for a while, but I have an election to fight, and very little time to do it in. If you'll just tell me what you want, I'll be happy to tell you what it will cost you."
Walpole raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Plain speaking may be a virtue, James, but if I were you I'd keep it to myself. There's no room for it in politics or business."
"You should know," said Medley, and Walpole laughed briefly.
"James, I can't say I'm hopeful of your chances, because I'm not. High Steppes has been a safe Conservative Seat for more than thirty years. All right, Hardcastle is a bit of a rotter, but people will vote for the devil they're familiar with rather than a Cause they don't know."
"Even though the devil has bled them dry for years, and the Cause will fight on their behalf?" Adamant smiled. "Or perhaps you don't believe in Reform?"
"My dear chap, it hasn't a hope." Walpole took a cigar out of his pocket, looked at it wistfully, and put it away again. "Only allowed one a day," he explained. "Doctor's orders. I'd get another doctor, but he's the wife's brother. James, Reform is a nice idea, but that's all. These fashions come and go, but they never last long. Too many vested interests concerned for it to get anywhere."
"Is that why you came here?" said Medley. "To tell us we can't win?"
Walpole laughed briefly. "Not at all. You asked me for money, James, and I'm here to give it to you. Who knows? You might win after all, and it wouldn't do me any harm to have you owe me a favor. Besides, I've been a friend of your family most of my life. Fought beside your father in the Broken Ridges campaign. He was a good sort. I'm more than comfortably well-off these days, and I can afford to throw away a few thousand ducats." He took a banker's draft from his pocket and handed it to Medley. "Put it to good use, James, and let me know if you need some more. And after this nonsense is over, do come and see me. I'm sure I can put some business your way. Now I really must be going. Things to do, you know. Good luck in the election."
He didn't say You're going to need it. His tone said it for him.
He rose unhurriedly to his feet, and stretched unobtrusively as Adamant got up and rang for the butler. Medley tucked the banker's draft safely away in his wallet before rising to his feet. The butler came in, Walpole shook hands all around, and then the butler escorted him out. The room was suddenly very quiet. Adamant and Medley sat down again and turned their attention to Lucien Sykes. He glanced quickly at the two Guards, scowled unhappily, and then leant forward to face Adamant, his tone hushed and conspiratorial.
"You know my position. I have to get my ships in and out of the docks soon, or I stand to lose every penny I've got. You know I've donated money to the Cause in the past. I've been one of your main backers. Now I need your help. I need your word that the first thing you'll do as a Councilor is to put pressure on those bastards in the Dock-workers Guild to call off their strike. For a while, at least."
"I'm afraid I can't do that," said Adamant. "But I could put some pressure on the DeWitt brothers to be more reasonable. After all, they caused the strike, by refusing to spend the money needed to make the docks safe to work in."
Sykes's scowl deepened. "That won't do any good. I've already talked to Marcus and David DeWitt. They don't give a damn for anyone but themselves. It's become a matter of principle to them, not to give in to their workers. If they want to dig their own financial grave, that's up to them, but I'm damned if I'm going to let them drag me down with them."
"You could always go to Hardcastle," said Medley.
"I tried," said Sykes. "He wouldn't see me. Three thousand ducats. Adamant. That's my offer. I've got the bank draft right here."
"I'll talk to the Guild and put what pressure I can on the DeWitts," said Adamant. "That's all I can promise you. If that's not good enough, then we'll have to do without your money."
Sykes took a folded bank draft out of his coat pocket, hefted it in his hand, and then tossed it onto the desk. "I'll see you again, Adamant—if you win the election."
He pulled his coat around him, glared briefly at Hawk and Fisher, and left the study. The door swung shut behind him. Hawk turned slightly to look at Adamant.
"Is it normally this blatant? I mean, when you get right down to it, those two were giving you bribes in return for future favors. Reform's always campaigned against that kind of corruption in the past."
"Fighting an election costs money," said Medley. "Lots of it. James couldn't hope to pay all the bi
lls on his own, and the Cause can't do much to help. What money they have has to be spread around among the poorer candidates. All they could give us was this house. So, we take funds where we can find them. You can bet Hardcastle isn't bothered by any such niceties. If his supporters don't make big enough donations, all he has to do is threaten to raise property taxes. And it's not as if we promised to do anything against our principles. In the end, all politics is based on people doing favors for each other. That's what keeps the system going. It may not be a very pretty system, but then, that's one of the things we're fighting to change."
The door flew open, and Dannielle swept in. She glared at them all impartially, and then sank into her favorite chair. "I feel like I ought to open all the windows and set up incense sticks, just to get the smell of politics out of this room."
"Sorry, Danny," said Adamant. "But they really wouldn't have talked freely with you there, and we needed the money they were offering."
Dannielle sniffed. "Let's change the subject."
"Let's," said Medley. "Is there anything more you need to know before we start campaigning, Captain Hawk, Captain Fisher?"
"Yes," said Hawk. "I need more information on the other candidates. Hardcastle, for example. I gather he's unpopular, even among his own people."
"The man's a brute," said Adamant. "He runs the High Steppes like his own private Barony. Even levies his own separate tax, though it's not called that, of course. It's an insurance policy. And people who don't or can't keep up their payments find their luck's suddenly changed for the worse. It starts with beatings, moves on to fires, and ends with murder. And no one says anything. Even the Guard looks the other way."
Hawk smiled coldly. "We're the Guard here now. Tell me about Hardcastle himself."