Hawk smiled at her fondly. 'I knew there had to be some reason why I put up with you.' His smile faded away. 'I liked Hightower's son. He hadn't been in the Guard long, but he meant well, and he tried so hard. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he died because of it.'
'What happened on that werewolf case?' said Fisher. 'That's another one you never told me much about.'
'Not much to tell. The case started badly and went downhill fast. We didn't have much to go on, and what little we thought we knew about werewolves turned out to be mostly untrue. According to legend, the werewolf in human shape is excessively hairy, has two fingers the same length, and has a pentacle on his palm. Rubbish, all of it. Also according to the legend, the man takes on his wolf shape when the full moon rises, and only turns back again when the moon goes down. Our shapechanger could turn from man to wolf and back again whenever he felt like it, as long as the full moon was up. That made finding him rather difficult. We got him eventually. Ordinary- looking guy. You could walk right past him in the street and never notice him. I killed him with a silver sword. He lay on the ground with the blood running out of him, and cried, as though he couldn't understand why any of this was happening to him. He hadn't wanted to kill anyone; the werewolf curse made him do it. He hadn't wanted to die either, and at the end he cried like a small child that's been punished and doesn't know why.'
Fisher put an arm across his shoulders and hugged him.
'How very touching,' said an amused voice. Hawk and Fisher looked round to see Edward Bowman standing to their right, smiling sardonically. Fisher moved unhurriedly away from Hawk. Bowman put out his hand, and Hawk shook it warily. Like Blackstone, Bowman had a politician's quick and impersonal handshake. He shook Fisher's hand too.
'Enjoying the party?' he asked, smiling impartially at Hawk and Fisher.
'It has its ups and downs,' said Hawk dryly.
'Ah yes,' said Bowman. 'I saw you and Hightower. Unfortunate business about his son. You'd do well to be wary of Hightower, Captain Hawk. The Lord Roderik is well known for his ability to hold a grudge.'
'What's his connection with Blackstone?' asked Fisher. 'I'd have thought a man like Hightower, old army and High Society, would be conservative by nature, rather than a reformer.'
Bowman smiled knowingly. 'Normally you'd be right; and thereby hangs a tale. Up until a few years ago. Lord Roderik was a devoted advocate of the status quo. Change could only be for the worse, and those who actually lobbied for reforms were nothing but malcontents and traitors. And then the King summoned Lord Hightower to Court, and told him it had been decided by the Assembly that he was too old to lead the army anymore, and he would have to step down to make way for a younger man. According to my spies at Court, Hightower just stood there and looked at the King like he couldn't believe his ears. Apparently he hadn't thought the mandatory retirement from the field at fifty would apply to someone as important as him. The King was very polite about it, even offered Hightower a position as his personal military adviser, but Hightower wouldn't have any of it. If he couldn't be a real soldier, he'd resign his commission. I don't think he really believed they'd go that far. Until they did.
'He was never the same after that. Thirty years of his life given to the army, and he didn't even get a pension, because he resigned. Not that he needed a pension, of course, but it was the principle of the thing. He came back here, to his home and his family, but couldn't seem to settle down. Tried to offer his advice and expertise to the Council, but they didn't want to know. I think he joined up with Blackstone originally just to spite them. Told you he carried grudges. Then he discovered Reform, and he's been unbearable ever since. There's no one more fanatical than a convert to a Cause. Still, there's no denying he's been very useful to us. His name opens quite a few doors in Haven.'
'It should,' said Hawk. 'His family owns a fair chunk of it. And his wife's family is one of the oldest in the city.' He looked thoughtfully at Bowman. 'How did you get involved with Blackstone?'
Bowman shrugged. 'I liked his style. He was one of the few politicians I met who actually seemed interested in doing something to improve the lives of the people who live in this rat hole of a city. I've been in politics all my life; my father was a Councilor till the day he died, but I hadn't really been getting anywhere. It's not enough in politics to have a good mind and good intentions; you have to have a good personal image as well. I've never had much talent for being popular, but William has. I knew he was going places from the first day I met him. But, at that time, he didn't have any experience. He threw away chances, because he didn't even know they were there. So, we decided to work together. I provided the experience, he provided the style. It hasn't worked out too badly. We get on well together, and we get things done.'
'And he gets all the power, and all the credit,' said Fisher.
'I'm not ambitious,' said Bowman. 'And there's more to life than credit.'
'Indeed there is,' said Katherine Blackstone. She moved in to stand beside Bowman, and Hawk and Fisher didn't miss the way they stood together.
'Tell me,' said Katherine, sipping daintily at her drink, 'where did you and your wife come from originally, Captain Hawk? I'm afraid I can't quite place your accent.'
'We're from the North,' said Hawk vaguely. 'Up around Hillsdown.'
'Hillsdown,' said Katherine thoughtfully. 'That's a monarchy, isn't it?'
'More or less,' said Fisher.
'The Low Kingdoms must seem rather strange to you,' said Bowman. 'I don't suppose democracy has worked its way up North yet.'
'Not yet,' said Hawk. 'The world's a big place, and change travels slowly. When I discovered the Low Kingdoms were in fact governed by an elected Assembly, presided over by a constitutional monarch with only limited powers, it was as though my whole world had been tipped upside down. How could he be King if he didn't rule? But the idea; the idea that every man and woman should have a say in how the country should be run: that was staggering. There's no denying the system does have its drawbacks, and I've seen most of them right here in Haven, but it has its attractions too.'
'It's the way of the future,' said Bowman.
'You might just be right,' said Hawk.
The doorbell rang, and Gaunt went off to answer it. Bowman and Katherine chatted a while longer about nothing in particular, and then moved away to talk quietly with each other. Fisher looked after them thoughtfully.
'I don't trust Bowman; he smiles too much.'
Hawk shrugged. 'That's his job; he's a politician, remember? But did you see the way Katherine's face lit up every time Bowman looked at her?'
'Yeah,' said Fisher, grinning. 'There's definitely something going on there.'
'Scandalmonger,' said Hawk.
'Not at all,' said Fisher. 'I'm just romantic, that's all.'
Gaunt came back into the parlor with a tall, muscular man in his late forties. Hawk took one look at the new arrival and nearly spilled his drink. Standing beside Gaunt was Adam Stalker, possibly the most renowned hero ever to come out of the Low Kingdoms. In his time he'd fought every monster you can think of, and then some. He'd single-handedly toppled the evil Baron Cade from his mountain fortress, and freed hundreds of prisoners from the foul dungeons under Cade's Keep. He'd been the confidant of kings and the champion of the oppressed. He'd served in a dozen armies, in this cause and that, bringing aid and succor to those who had none. His feats of daring and heroism had spread across the known world, and were the subject of countless songs and stories. Adam Stalker: demonslayer and hero.
He stood a head and shoulders taller than anyone else in the room, and was almost twice as wide as some of them. His shoulder-length black hair was shot with grey now, but he was still an impressive and powerful figure. His clothes were simple but elegantly cut. He looked around the room like a soldier gazing across a battlefield, nodding at the familiar faces, and then his cold blue eyes fell on Hawk and Fisher. He strode quickly over to them, crushed Hawk's hand in his, and clapped him on the back. Hawk staggered under the blow.
'I heard about your run-in with the Chandler Lane vampire,' Stalker said gruffly. 'You did a good job. Captain Hawk. A damned good job.'
'Thanks,' said Hawk, just a little breathlessly. 'My partner helped.'
'Of course.' Stalker nodded briefly to Fisher. 'Well done, my dear.' He looked back at Hawk. 'I've heard good things about you, Hawk. This city has much to thank you for.'
