'Secrets,' said Fisher. 'What do you know about Gaunt, sir Dorimant?'
'Not much. He's a private man. William knows him better than I do. There are rumors he used to be sorcerer to the King, until they had a falling out. The rumors don't say what they might have argued about. Gaunt's a quiet sort, usually. Don't think I've ever known him to raise his voice in anger. On the other hand, you know what he did in the Hook;'
'Yeah.' Fisher scowled, her hand idly caressing the pommel of her sword. 'I don't trust sorcerers.'
'Not many people do,' said Dorimant dryly. 'But Gaunt is no threat to William. They've been friends for years.'
He broke off as Gaunt came back into the parlor, accompanied by a tall, wiry man in his late twenties. He had a shock of long dark hair and a thick curly beard, so that most of his face was hidden from casual view. He smiled easily, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He was dressed in the latest fashion, and wore it well. Considering that the latest fashion included tightly cut trousers and a padded jerkin with a chin-high collar, this was no mean achievement. It would have been easy to dismiss him as a dandy, if it hadn't been for the sword that hung at his left hip, in a well-worn scabbard. Blackstone and his wife went over to greet the newcomer.
'Now there's a man you can distrust,' said Dorimant quietly. 'Edward Bowman. William's right-hand man. A brilliant politician with a first-class mind. Watch him. The man's a rat.'
Hawk frowned, and started to ask him more, but Dorimant was already walking away, heading back to the witch Visage. Hawk looked back at Bowman. Gaunt and Blackstone were deep in conversation, leaving Katherine chatting with Bowman. Hawk's eye narrowed as he watched them. There was nothing specific he could put his finger on, but there was something about the way Katherine and Bowman were talking together; They were <em>too</em> friendly. They smiled too much, their concentration was too intense, and they touched each other politely but too often.
'Yeah,' said Fisher. 'They're certainly glad to see each other, aren't they?'
'Probably just good friends,' said Hawk.
'Sure. Sure.'
The doorbell sounded again, and Gaunt disappeared into the hall. Blackstone moved over to join Bowman and Katherine. Hawk watched closely, but couldn't see any obvious signs of tension between them. They all smiled a little too brightly and too often, but then, they were politicians; Hawk sighed, and looked away.
'I assume the bell means more guests,' he said tiredly. 'That's all we need; more suspects to watch.'
'You worry too much,' said Fisher, pouring herself more of the fruit cordial. 'Look, all we've got to do is keep the man alive for the next three days until his bill becomes law. After that, the pressure will be off, and he won't need us anymore. Surely we can keep him out of trouble for three days.'
Hawk shrugged, unconvinced. 'I don't like coming onto a case unprepared. We don't know enough about what's going on here, and we certainly don't know enough about the people involved. Katherine Blackstone is acting out of character. Visage knows why, but won't tell us. Instead, she tells us that Councilor Blackstone is in danger, in one of the best-defended houses in the city. Blackstone's political adviser warns us about Blackstone's right-hand man, who turns out to be very friendly with the Councilor's wife. I've got a bad feeling about this, Isobel.'
'You're always getting bad feelings.'
'And I'm usually right.'
Fisher chuckled affectionately. 'We've had a long hard day, my love. It's just the tiredness talking, that's all. Blackstone is perfectly safe here. We're just window dressing. Now, have a drink, and relax a little. Okay?'
'Okay.' Hawk smiled fondly at Fisher. 'You were always the sensible one. What would I do without you, lass?'
'Beats the hell out of me,' said Fisher, smiling. 'Now, relax. Everything's going to be fine.'
Gaunt came back into the parlor, and Hawk's heart sank. He knew the middle-aged couple with the sorcerer only too well. Lord and Lady Hightower were a prominent part of Haven's High Society. They moved in all the right circles, and knew all the right people. In a very real sense, they were part of the moneyed and influential elite who controlled Haven. They were also, surprisingly, two of Blackstone's strongest supporters.
Lord Roderik Hightower was a stocky, medium-height man in his early fifties. His short-cropped hair was iron grey, and his piercing dark eyes stared unyieldingly from a harsh, weatherbeaten face. Only a few years earlier, he'd been the Chief Commander of the Low Kingdoms' army, and a legend in his own lifetime. He always led his men into battle, and he was always the last to retreat. His grasp of strategy was second to none, and he had guts of solid steel. A soldier's soldier. He was still solidly muscled, but signs of wear were finally beginning to show. He was getting slower, and old wounds gnawed at him when it rained. He'd retired from the army rather than accept the desk job they offered him, and had immediately looked for a new challenge with which to occupy himself. He finally settled on politics, and took on the campaign to clean up Haven with the same determination and gusto he'd shown in his army days.
Hawk knew him from a year or so back. There had been a series of werewolf murders on the lower Northside, and Hawk had been one of the investigating Guards. It had been a complicated, messy case. Hawk had finally identified the shapechanger and destroyed it, but not before three more men had been killed. One of them was Hightower's only son. Hawk's superiors had stood by him, but Hightower still blamed him for his son's death.
<em>Great</em>, thought Hawk. <em>Just what I needed. More complications</em>.
He looked curiously at Hightower's wife, the Lady Elaine. A very well-preserved early fifties, she wore the latest fashion with style and dignity. Her dress was long and flowing, despite the muggy weather, and studded with semiprecious stones. She fanned herself constantly with an intricately painted paper fan, but otherwise seemed unaffected by the heat. She had a long mane of pure white hair and showed it off to advantage. Her face had a strong bone structure, and she was still stunningly good-looking, despite her years. All in all, she looked splendid, and she knew it. She held her husband's arm protectively, and looked around Gaunt's parlor with such poise that she seemed to be suggesting that simply by entering such a room she was most definitely slumming.
Hawk felt an almost overwhelming urge to sneak up behind her and kick her in the bustle.
Fisher leaned closer to Hawk. 'Hightower;' she said softly. 'Wasn't he the one who;'
'Yeah,' said Hawk.
'Maybe he's forgotten by now.'
'I doubt it.'
Hightower looked across the room, saw Hawk and Fisher, and stiffened slightly. He spoke quietly to his wife, who looked at the two Guards as though they'd just crawled out from under a rock. She reluctantly let go of her husband's arm and moved away to greet Blackstone. Lord Hightower glared at Hawk for a long moment, and then walked slowly across the length of the room to confront him. Hawk and Fisher bowed politely. Hightower didn't bow in return. He waited for Hawk to straighten up, and then studied him coldly.
'So. You're William's bodyguards.'
'That's right, my lord,' said Hawk.
'I should have had you drummed out of the Guard when I had the chance.'
'You tried hard enough, my Lord,' said Hawk calmly. 'Luckily my superiors knew the facts of the matter. Your son's death was a tragic accident.'
'He'd still be alive if you'd done your job properly!'
'Perhaps. I did my best, my Lord.'
Hightower sniffed, and looked disparagingly at Fisher. 'This is your woman, is it?'
'This is my partner and my wife,' said Hawk. 'Captain Fisher.'
'And if you raise your voice to my husband again,' said Fisher calmly, 'I'll knock you flat on your arse, right here and now.'
Hightower flushed angrily, and started to splutter a reply. And then his voice died away as he looked into Fisher's steady eyes and saw that she meant it. Hightower had a lifetime's experience of fighting men, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that Fisher would kill him if she thought he was a threat to her husband. He recalled some of the things he'd heard about Hawk and Fisher, and suddenly they didn't seem quite so impossible after all. He sniffed again, turned his back on the two Guards, and walked back to his wife with as much dignity as he could muster.
'How to make friends and influence people,' said Hawk.
'To hell with him,' said Fisher. 'Anyone who wants to take you on has to go through me first.'
