Guards of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk and Fisher (Hawk & Fisher) (52 page)

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Authors: Simon R. Green

BOOK: Guards of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk and Fisher (Hawk & Fisher)
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“Almost had you,” he said quietly.
“Why, Burns?” said Hawk. “You were one of the best. Everyone said so. Why betray everything you ever believed in?”
“For the money, of course. I spent years overseeing transactions of gold and silver and precious stones, protecting men who had more money than they knew what to do with, and eventually I just decided I wanted some of that wealth for myself. I wanted some of the luxuries and comforts I saw every day and couldn’t touch. Honour and honesty are all very well, but they don’t pay the bills. I was going to be rich, Hawk, richer than you’ve ever dreamed of. Almost made it. Would have, too, if it hadn’t been for you and that bitch.”
“You were Morgan’s contact inside the Guard, weren’t you?” said Fisher impatiently.
“Of course,” said Burns. “I went to Morgan and suggested it. It was perfect. Who would ever have suspected me?”
“People died because of you,” said Hawk. “People who trusted you.”
Burns grinned widely. There was blood on his teeth. “They shouldn’t have got in my way. I killed Doughty, you know. He was there when that little bastard at the drug factory recognised me. So I killed him, and persuaded the informant to implicate Fisher instead.”
“You killed your own partner?” said Fisher, shocked.
“Why not?” said Burns. “I was going to be rich. I didn’t need him anymore.”
“Why did you betray the Peace Talks?” said Hawk.
Burns chuckled painfully, and fresh blood spilled down his chin. “I didn’t. That wasn’t me. See, you’re not as smart as you thought you were, are you?”
“Who was it, Burns?” said Hawk. “Who were you working for?”
“Go to hell,” said Burns. He reared up, tried to spit blood at Hawk, and then the light went out of his eyes and he fell back and died.
“Great,” said Hawk. “Bloody marvelous. Every time I think I’ve found someone who can explain what the hell’s going on, they bloody up and die on me.”
He closed Burns’s staring eyes with a surprisingly gentle hand. and got to his feet again. He made to offer ap Owen his axe, but ap Owen shook his head. Fisher stood up, looked down at Burns a moment, and then kicked the body viciously.
“Don’t,” said Hawk. “He was a good man, once.”
“I’m damned if I know what’s happening anymore,” said ap Owen. “But Burns’s dying confession seemed straightforward enough, so as far as I’m concerned, you’re both cleared. But you’d better stick with me until we can get back to Headquarters and make it official. There’s still a lot of people out on the streets looking for you, with swords in their hands and blood in their eyes. The Council has done everything but declare open season on you both.”
“We can’t go back,” said Hawk. “It’s not over yet. You heard what Burns said; he didn’t betray the Peace Talks. Someone else did that. Which means the delegates are still in danger. And the two, people who should be in charge of protecting them are right here in this room with me. It’s more than possible that Isobel was deliberately set up to draw attention away from the real traitor, so that security round the delegates would be relaxed.”
“We’ve got to get back there,” said Fisher. “Those poor bastards think they’re safe, now I’m not there! They’re probably not even bothering with anything more than basic security.”
“Let’s go,” said ap Owen. “Anything could be happening while we’re standing around being horrified.” He turned to the silently watching Constables. “You stick with us. From now on, you do whatever Hawk and Fisher say. They’re in charge. Anyone have any problems with that?” The Guards coughed and shrugged and looked at their boots. Ap Owen smiled slightly. “I thought not. All right, let’s move it. Follow me, people.”
He led the way out of the inn at a quick, impatient pace, followed resignedly by the Guards. Hawk and Fisher brought up the rear, along with Mistique. Hawk cleared his throat.
“Thanks for the help,” he said brusquely. “Of course, we could have beaten the Guards by ourselves, if we’d had to.”
“Oh, of course you could, darling,” said Mistique. “But you wouldn’t have wanted to hurt all those innocent people, would you?”
“Of course not,” said Fisher, looking straight ahead. “That’s why we were holding back. Otherwise, we could have beaten them easily.”
“Of course,” said Mistique.
 
The Peace Talks had ground to a halt yet again, and the four remaining delegates were taking another break in the study. None of them minded much; they all knew nothing important was going to be decided until the new delegates arrived to replace the two who’d died. And in particular, the Haven delegation wasn’t going to agree to anything until they had a sorcerer on their side who could counteract any subtle magics the Lord Nightingale might or might not be using to influence things. No one admitted any of this out loud, of course, but everyone understood the situation. They still kept the Talks going. They were, after all, politicians, and there was always the chance someone might be manoeuvred into saying something they hadn’t meant to. Careers could be built by pouncing on lapses like that.
Lord Nightingale selected one of the cut-glass decanters and poured out generous measures for them all. The mood was generally more relaxed than it had been, now that the traitor Fisher had been exposed, and they shared little jokes and anecdotes as they emptied their glasses. Nothing like talking for ages and saying nothing to work up a really good thirst. Their murmured conversation wandered aimlessly. None of them were in any particular hurry to get back to the Talks. The chairs were comfortable, the room was pleasantly warm, and in a while it would be time to take a break for dinner anyway.
Lord Nightingale looked at the clock on the mantelpiece, heaved himself out of his chair and left the room on a muttered errand. He shut the door, smiled broadly, and then froze as someone in the hall behind him cleared his throat politely. He looked round sharply, and found himself facing ap Owen and Fisher, someone who by his appearance had to be Hawk, and a woman in sorcerer’s black. For a moment Nightingale just stood there, his face and mind utterly blank, and then he drew himself up, and nodded quickly to ap Owen.
“Well done, Captain. You’ve apprehended the traitor Fisher. I’ll see you receive a commendation for this.”
Ap Owen stared at him stonily. “I’m afraid that’s not why we’re here, my lord. It is my duty to inform you that you are under arrest.”
“If this is some kind of joke, Captain, it’s in very bad taste. I shall inform your superiors about this.”
Ap Owen continued as if he’d never been interrupted. “We’ve been here some time, my lord, searching the house. Among your belongings we discovered—”
“You searched my room? How dare you! I have diplomatic immunity from this sort of petty harassment!”
“Among your belongings, hidden inside the handle of one of your trunks, we found a quantity of the super-chacal drug.”
“A lot of things made sense, once we found the drug,” said Fisher. “We knew the drug tied into the Talks somehow, but we didn’t have a connection, until we found you. And once we started looking at you closely, all kinds of things became clear. You gave away the location of the house, because you knew you’d be safe inside the pocket dimension. When that didn’t work as well as you’d hoped, you used your sorcery to open a door into the dimension, knowing your sorcery would protect you from the creatures you’d summoned. And of course you were able to close the door once it became clear the creatures were getting out of hand and might pose a threat to you. Finally, you’ve been subtly using your magic all along, influencing the delegates to make sure nothing would ever be agreed. You’ve gone very quiet, my lord. Nothing to say for yourself?”
“I admit everything,” said Lord Nightingale calmly. “I’ll admit anything you like, here, in private. It doesn’t matter anymore. You can’t prove any of it, and even if you could, I have diplomatic immunity from arrest. And I’m afraid the whole matter is academic now, anyway. My fellow delegates have just drunk a glass of wine from a decanter I dosed rather heavily with the super-chacal drug. My sorcery protected me from suffering any effects, but we should begin to hear the results on them any time now. They’ll tear each other to pieces in an animal frenzy, and that will be the end of the Peace Talks. Evidence is already being planted in the right places that this was the work of certain leading factions in Haven, to express their opposition to the thought of peace with Outremer.”
“Why?” said Hawk. “Why have you done all this? What sane man wants to start a war?”
Lord Nightingale smiled condescendingly. “There’s money to be made in a war, Captain. A great deal of money. Not to mention political capital, and military advancement. A man in the right place at the right time, if properly forewarned, can rise rapidly in wartime, no matter who wins. Whatever the outcome of the war, my associates and I will end up a great deal richer and more powerful than we could ever have hoped to be under normal conditions. The super-chacal was my idea. I helped fund its creation, and oversaw its introduction into Haven. You can think of this city as a testing ground for the new drug. If it does as well here as we expect, it should prove an excellent means of sabotaging the Low Kingdoms. We’ll introduce the drug into selected foods and wines, poison some strategic wells and rivers, and then just sit back and watch as your country tears itself apart. All we’ll have to do is come in afterwards and clean up the mess. It could be the start of a whole new form of warfare.
“I hope you’ve all been listening carefully. It’s so nice to be appreciated for one’s work. And it’s not as if you’ll ever get a chance to tell anyone else. My fellow delegates should see to that.”
He reached to open the study door, and then hesitated, listening. Hawk smiled coldly.
“That’s right, my Lord. Quiet in there, isn’t it? Like ap Owen said, we’ve been here for some time. Mistique’s magic revealed that one of the decanters had been drugged, so we switched it for another one. The original should make good evidence at your trial. As for your citywide test of the drug, you can forget that, too. We got it all back before it could hit the streets, and it’s currently being protected by some very trustworthy Guards. Morgan is dead. So is Burns. You’re on your own now, Nightingale.”
“You can’t arrest me,” said Lord Nightingale. “I have diplomatic immunity.”
“I think your people can be persuaded to waive that,” said Hawk. “You’ll be surprised how fast they disown you, to avoid being implicated themselves. After all, no one loves a failure. They’ll probably let us hang you right here in Haven, if we ask them nicely.”
Lord Nightingale suddenly raised his hands and spoke a Word of Power, and halfway down the hall the air split open. A howling wind came roaring out of the widening split, carrying a rush of thick snow and a bitter blast of cold. Within seconds, a blizzard raged in the narrow hallway, and the temperature plummeted. Ice formed thickly on the doors and walls, and made the floor treacherous underfoot. Hawk raised an arm to protect his face as the freezing wind cut at his exposed skin like a knife. The cold was so intense it burned, and even the shallowest breath was painful.
Hawk glared about him into the swirling snow, trying to locate Lord Nightingale, but he and everyone else had become little more than shadows in the roaring white. From behind him, he could hear something howling in the world beyond the gateway that Nightingale had opened. It sounded huge and angry and utterly inhuman. More howls sounded over the roaring of the blizzard and the buffeting wind, growing louder all the time, and Hawk realised the creatures were slowly drawing nearer. He staggered forward, head bent against the wind, until his flailing arms found the nearest wall. Nightingale would be just as blind in this storm as everyone else, so he had to be following the wall to find his way out. All Hawk had to do was make his way down the wall after him—assuming he hadn’t got so turned around in the blizzard that he’d ended up against the wrong wall.... Hawk decided he wasn’t going to think about that. He had to be right.
And then his heart leapt in his chest as a door suddenly opened to his right, revealing the startled faces of the other delegates. The force of the storm quickly threw them back into the study, where they struggled to close the door again, but Hawk took little notice. He knew now that he’d found the right wall. The howling of the creatures came again, rising eerily over the sound of the storm. They sounded very close. Hawk ran down the corridor, slipping and sliding on the ice, his shoulder pressed against the wall. A shadow loomed up before him. Hawk threw himself forward, grabbed the figure by the shoulder, and slammed it back against the wall. He thrust his face close up against the other’s, and smiled savagely as he recognised Nightingale’s frightened face.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” shouted Nightingale, his voice barely audible over the roar of the blizzard. “The creatures will be here soon!”
“I’ve got a better idea,” said Hawk, not caring if the Outremer lord heard him. He took a firm hold of Nightingale’s collar and dragged him kicking and struggling back down the corridor towards the gateway he’d opened.
Hawk had to fight the force of the storm with every step, as well as hang on to Nightingale with a hand so numb he could barely feel his grip anymore, and he thought for a while that he wasn’t going to make it. But then suddenly he was close enough to make out the split in the air, stretching from floor to ceiling, and he lurched to a halt. The split was wider now. Huge dark shadows moved in the blizzard beyond the gateway. The creatures were almost there. Their howls were deafening. Hawk put his mouth against Nightingale’s ear.

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