'I can see you and he are going to get on like a house on fire,' said Medley.
He reached down and took a firm hold of the steel ring set into the trapdoor. He braced himself and pulled steadily. The trapdoor swung open on whispering hinges, and a rush of freezing air billowed out into the laundry room.
Hawk shivered suddenly, gooseflesh rising on his arms. Adamant lit a lamp, and then started down the narrow wooden stairway that led into the darkness of the cellar. Dannielle lifted her dress up around her knees and followed him down. Hawk and Fisher looked at each other. Hawk shrugged uneasily, and followed Dannielle, his hand resting on the axe at his side. Fisher followed him, and Medley brought up the rear, slamming the trapdoor shut behind him.
It was very dark and bitterly cold in the cellar. Hawk wrapped his cloak tightly around him, his breathing steaming on the still air. The stairs seemed to go a long way down before they finally came to an end. Adamant's lamp revealed a large square box of a room, packed from wall to bare wall with great slabs of ice. A layer of glistening frost covered everything, and a faint pearly haze softened the lamplight. In the middle of the room, in a small space surrounded by ice, sat a small mummified form wrapped in a white cloak, slumped and motionless on a bare wooden chair. There was no way of approaching it, so Hawk studied the still figure as best he could from a distance. The flesh had sunk clean down to the bone, so that the face was little more than a leathery mask, and the bare hands little more than bony claws. The eyes were sunken pits, with tightly closed eyelids. The rest of the body was hidden behind the cloak, for which Hawk was grateful.
'I take it the ice is here to preserve the body,' he said finally, his voice hushed.
'It slows the process,' said Adamant. 'But that's all.'
Fisher's mouth twisted in a grimace. 'Seems to me it'd be kinder to just let the poor bastard go.'
'You don't understand,' said Medley. 'He <em>can't</em> die. Because of what he did, his spirit is tied to his body for as long as it exists. No matter what condition the body is in, or how little remains of it.'
'He did it for me,' said Adamant. 'Because I needed him.' His voice broke off roughly. Dannielle put a comforting hand on his arm.
Hawk shivered, not entirely from the cold. 'Are you sure he's still; in there? Can he hear us?'
The mummified body stirred on its chair. The sunken eyelids crawled open, revealing eyes yellow as urine. 'I may be dead. Captain Hawk, but I'm not deaf.' His voice was low and harsh, but surprisingly firm. His eyes fixed on Hawk and Fisher, and his sunken mouth moved in something that might have been meant as a smile. 'Hawk and Fisher. The only honest Guards in Haven. I've heard a lot about you.'
'Nothing good, I hope,' said Fisher.
The dead man chuckled dryly, a faint whisper of sound on the quiet. 'James, I think you'll find you're in excellent hands with these two. They have a formidable reputation.'
'Apart from the Blackstone affair,' said Dannielle.
'Everyone has their off days,' said Hawk evenly. 'You can trust us to keep you from harm, sir Adamant. Anyone who wants to get to you has to get past us first.'
'And there's damn few who've ever done that,' said Fisher.
'You weren't doing so well against the blood-creatures,' said Dannielle. 'If Mortice hadn't intervened, we'd have all been killed.'
'Hush, Danny,' said Adamant. 'Any man can be brought down by sorcery. That's why we have Mortice, to take care of things like that. Is there anything you need while we're here, Mortice? You know we can't stand this cold for long.'
'I don't need anything anymore, James. But you need to take more care. It would appear Councilor Hardcastle is more worried about your chances in the election than he's willing to admit in public. He's hired a first-class sorcerer, and turned him loose on you. The blood-creature was just one of a dozen sendings he's called up out of the darkness. I managed to keep out the others, but there's a limit to what my wards can do. I don't recognize my adversary's style, but he's good. Very good. If I were alive, I might even be worried about him.'
Adamant frowned. 'Hardcastle must know he's forbidden to use sorcery during an election.'
'So are we, for that matter,' said Medley.
'That's different,' said Dannielle quickly, darting a quick glance at Hawk and Fisher. 'Mortice just uses his magic to protect us.'
'The Council isn't interested in that kind of distinction,' said Mortice. 'Technically, my very presence in your house is illegal. Not that I ever let technicalities get in my way. But the Council's always had ants in its pants about magic-users. Right, Captain Hawk?'
'Right,' said Hawk. 'That's what comes of living so near the Street of Gods.'
'Tough,' said Mortice. 'All the candidates have some kind of sorcery backing them up. If they didn't, they wouldn't stand a chance. Magic is like bribery and corruption; everyone knows about it and everyone turns a blind eye. I don't know why I should sound so disgusted about it. This is Haven, after all.'
'Being dead doesn't seem to have dulled your faculties at all,' said Hawk.
Mortice's mouth twitched. 'I find being dead unclutters the mind wonderfully.'
'Where do you stand when it comes to sorcery, Captain Hawk?' said Dannielle sharply. 'Are you going to turn us in, and get James disqualified from the election?'
Hawk shrugged. 'My orders are to keep James Adamant alive. As far as I'm concerned, that has overall priority. I'll put up with anything that'll make my job easier.'
'Well, if that's settled, we really should be going,' said Adamant. 'We've a lot to do and not much time to do it in.'
'Do you really have to go, James?' said Mortice. 'Can't you just stay and talk for a while?'
'I'm sorry,' said Adamant. 'Everything's piling up right now. I'll come down and see you again, as soon as I can. And I'll keep searching for someone who can help with your condition, no matter how long it takes. There must be someone, somewhere.'
'Yes,' said Mortice. 'I'm sure there is. Don't worry about Hardcastle's sorcerer, James. He may have caught me by surprise once, but I'm ready for him now. Nothing can harm you as long as I am here. I promise you that, my friend.'
His eyes slowly closed, and once again to all appearances he became nothing more than a mummified corpse, without any trace of life. Dannielle shivered quickly, and tugged at Adamant's arm.
'Let's get out of here, James. I'm not dressed for this kind of weather.'
'Of course, my dear.'
He nodded to Medley, who led the way out of the cellar and back into the laundry room. After the bitter cold of the cellar, the pleasant autumn day seemed uncomfortably warm. There was frost in their hair and eyebrows, and they all mopped at their faces as it began to melt. Adamant let the trapdoor fall shut, and blew out his lamp. Hawk looked at him.
'Is that it? Aren't you going to bolt it, or something? If Hardcastle is as ruthless and determined as you've made him out to be, what's to stop him sending assassins here to destroy Mortice's body?'
Medley laughed shortly. 'Anyone stupid enough to go down there wouldn't be coming back out again. Mortice's temper wasn't very good when he was alive, and since he died he's developed a very nasty sense of humor.'
Adamant's study seemed reassuringly normal after the freezing cold and darkness of Mortice's cellar. Hawk picked out the most comfortable-looking chair, turned it so he wouldn't have to sit with his back to the door, and sank down into it. Adamant started to say something and then thought better of it. He gestured for the others to take a seat, and busied himself with the wine decanters. Dannielle made as though to sit next to Hawk, and then quickly chose another chair when Fisher glared at her. Medley sat down beside Dannielle, who ignored him. Hawk leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs. First rule of the Guard: If you get a chance to sit down, take it. Guards spend a lot of time on their feet, and it tends to color their thinking. The last of the cellar chill began to seep out of Hawk's bones, and he sighed quietly. Adamant poured him a drink from one of the more expensive-looking decanters. Hawk sipped it, and made appreciative noises. It seemed a good vintage, though Fisher always insisted he had no palate for such things. Just as well, on a Guard's wages. He put down his glass, and waited patiently for Adamant to finish pouring wine for the others. There were things that needed to be said.
'Sir Adamant, just how reliable is Mortice?'
Adamant finished putting the decanter away before answering. 'Before he died;very. Now;I don't know. After
