pale, colorless woman came in. At first Roxanne thought she must be a servant, but a quick glance at the quality of her clothes suggested she had to be very upper-class, even if she didn't act like it. She ignored the two mercenaries and addressed herself to Roxanne, without raising her eyes from the floor.
'My husband will see you now,' she said quietly, her voice entirely free of inflection. 'Please follow me and I'll take you to him.'
The two mercenaries looked at each other, and one of them cleared his throat diffidently. 'Pardon me, ma'am, but we're supposed to stay with her.'
Jillian Hardcastle glanced at him briefly, and then looked back at the floor. 'My husband wants to see Roxanne. He didn't mention you.'
The mercenary frowned uncertainly. 'I don't really think we should;'
'You stay put,' said Roxanne flatly. 'Don't touch the booze and don't break anything. Got it?'
'Got it,' said the mercenary. 'We'll stay right here.' The other mercenary nodded quickly.
Roxanne followed Jillian Hardcastle out of the library and into the hall. It was a large hall, wide and echoing, and Roxanne did her best to look unimpressed. She quickly realized she needn't bother, as Jillian kept her gaze firmly on the ground at all times. Roxanne stared at her thoughtfully. This beaten-down little mouse was Hardcastle's wife? Perhaps the rumors about him were true after all.
Jillian opened the study door, and gestured politely for Roxanne to go in first. She did so, swaggering in with her thumbs tucked into her sword belt. Hardcastle and Wulf got to their feet. Hardcastle studied her narrowly. Roxanne smiled at them both, and didn't miss the little <em>moue</em> of unease that crossed their faces. She knew the effect her smile had on people. That was why she used it. She glanced quickly round the study. Not bad. Quite luxurious in its way. She did her best to look as though she'd seen better, in her time.
'Welcome to my house, Roxanne,' said Hardcastle heavily. 'Wulf tells me you've done good work for me. As a reward, I have a special assignment for you. You'll be working mostly alone, but there's an extra five hundred ducats in it for you.'
'Sounds good,' said Roxanne. 'What's the catch?'
Hardcastle frowned. Out of the corner of her eye, Roxanne saw Jillian wince momentarily, and then her face was blank and empty again. Roxanne dropped insolently into the most comfortable-looking chair and draped one leg over the padded arm. Hardcastle looked at her for a moment, and then drew up a chair opposite her. Wulf and Jillian remained standing. Hardcastle met Roxanne's gaze for a moment, and then looked away, despite himself.
'James Adamant is standing against me in the election,' he said finally. 'I want him stopped. Hurt him, kill him, I don't care. Spend as much as you need, use whatever tactics you like. If there's any repercussions I'll get you out of Haven in plenty of time.'
'The catch,' said Roxanne.
'Adamant has two Captains of the city Guard as bodyguards,' said Hardcastle steadily. 'They're called Hawk and Fisher.'
Roxanne smiled. 'I've heard of them. They're supposed to be good. Very good.' She laughed happily. It was an unpleasant, disturbing sound. 'Hardcastle, I'd almost do this for free, just for the chance to go up against those two.'
'They're not the target,' said Hardcastle sharply. 'If you have a grudge with them, you deal with it on your own time.'
'Of course,' said Roxanne.
'Even apart from them, Adamant's going to be hard to reach. He has his own mercenaries, and a new magic-user. I understand you have a special contact of your own among his people, so I'll leave the details to you. But it has to be done soon.' He picked up his wineglass. 'Jillian, get me some wine.'
She moved quickly forward, took the glass from his hand, and went over to the row of decanters on the nearby table.
'Do I get any support on this?' said Roxanne, 'Or am I working entirely on my own?'
'Use whatever people you need, but make sure there are no direct links to me. Officially, you're just another of my mercenaries.'
Jillian brought him a glass of wine. Hardcastle looked at it without touching it. 'Jillian, what is this?'
'Your wine, Cameron.'
'What kind of wine?'
'Red wine.'
'And what kind of wine do I normally drink when I have guests?'
'White wine.'
'So why have you brought me red?'
Jillian's mouth began to tremble slightly, though her face remained blank. 'I don't know.'
'It's because you're stupid, isn't it?'
'Yes, Cameron.'
'Go and get me some white wine.'
Jillian went back to the decanters. Hardcastle looked at Roxanne, who was studying him thoughtfully. 'Have you got something to say, mercenary?'
'She's your wife.'
'Yes. She is.'
Jillian came back with a glass of white wine. Hardcastle took it, and put it down on the desk without tasting it. 'I'll talk with you about this later, Jillian.'
She nodded, and stood silently beside his chair. Her hands were clasped so tightly together that the knuckles showed white.
'It's time you spoke to your people, Cameron,' said Wulf softly. 'We need them out on the streets as quickly as possible, and you need to speak to them before they go.'
Hardcastle nodded ungraciously and got to his feet. He looked at Roxanne. 'You'd better come too. You might learn something.'
'Wouldn't miss it for the world,' said Roxanne.
The main hall at Brimstone Hall was uncomfortably large. Two chandeliers of massed candles spread a great pool of light down the middle of the hall, and oil lamps lined the walls. Even so, dark shadows pressed close around the borders of the light. Silence lay heavily across the hall, and the slightest sound seemed to echo on forever. Armed men stood at intervals along the walls, staring blankly straight ahead, somehow all the more menacing for their complete lack of movement. A wide set of stairs led up to a gallery overlooking the hall. Hardcastle stood at ease on the gallery, smiling faintly at some pleasant thought of things to come. Jillian stood at his side;quiet, pliant, head bowed, and eyes far away, as though trying to pretend she wasn't really there at all.
Roxanne stood back a way, hidden in the shadows of the gallery. Wulf sat on a chair beside her, legs casually crossed, hands folded neatly in his lap. He might have been waiting for a late dessert, or a promised glass of wine, but there was something unsettling in the air of anticipation that hung about him, something; unhealthy. Roxanne kept a careful watch on him from the corner of her eye. She didn't trust sorcerers. Not that she trusted anyone, when you got right down to it, but in her experience magic-users were a particularly treacherous breed.
Hardcastle finally nodded to the two armed mercenaries at the end of the hall, and they pulled back the bolts and swung open the heavy main doors. The crowd of Conservative supporters came surging in, herded by polite but firm stewards. There were flags and banners and a steady hum of anticipation, but it had to be said that the crowd didn't exactly look enthusiastic to be there. Roxanne couldn't help but wonder whether the armed guards were there to keep people out, or keep them in. The main doors slammed shut behind the last of the crowd. Hardcastle looked out over his supporters, and cleared his throat loudly. The hall fell silent.
Afterwards, Roxanne was never really clear what the speech had been about. It was an excellent speech, no doubt of that, but she couldn't seem to sort out what exactly had been so enthralling about it. She only knew that the moment Hardcastle began to speak he became magnetic. She couldn't tear her eyes away from him, and she strained to hear every word. The crowd below were besotted with him, cheering and applauding and waving their banners frantically every time he paused. Even the stewards and mercenaries seemed fascinated by him. The speech finally came to an end, amid rapturous applause. Hardcastle looked out over the ecstatic crowd, smiling slightly, and then gestured for silence. The cheers gradually died away.
