After five years working the Northside they could handle anything.
Dubois carefully put down the piece of paper, tapped it with his fingers a few
times, and then looked up at Hawk and Fisher. 'For once in your lives, you've
struck it lucky. We know where Fenris is. The Council circle of sorcerers knew
that Grimm was somehow involved with the traitors, and kept an unobtrusive watch
on him. So when Fenris did a runner with his new face, they were able to follow
him magically, all the way to his new hiding place.'
'Wait a minute,' said Fisher. 'If we know where he is, why can't we just walk
right in and grab him?'
'Unfortunately, it's not that simple.'
'Somehow I didn't think it would be,' said Hawk.
Dubois sniffed. 'Fenris has gone to ground at Tower MacNeil, just outside the
city wall. That much the sorcerers are certain of. But it seems our man has some
sorcerous protection of his own, presumably supplied by his superiors. Our
people couldn't get close enough to see what his new face looks like.'
'No problem,' said Hawk. 'We burst in there, arrest everyone, and sort out which
is Fenris later.'
'I thought you'd come up with something like that,' said Dubois. 'Don't even
think about it. The MacNeils are one of the oldest and most respected Families
in Haven. We don't dare touch them. If it should turn out one of the MacNeils
was the traitor, it would be a major scandal. We have very explicit orders to
avoid any such thing. And that, Gods help us, is where you come in.'
'All right,' said Fisher. 'I'll bite. Why us?'
'Well, thanks to you and your partner's incompetence, what description we did
have of Fenris is now obsolete. But at least you two have met the man in person.
There's always the chance you'll recognize some mannerism or habit that'll give
him away. So you are going in there after him, suitably disguised. Your job is
to identify Fenris, and get him out of the Tower without anyone else catching
on. It's not much of a plan, so the fact that we're going ahead with it will
give you some idea of how desperate we are. Any questions so far?'
'Yeah,' said Hawk. 'What kind of place is Tower MacNeil?'
'Home to the MacNeils for fourteen generations. Protected by old sorcery and one
of Haven's finest security firms. The head of the Family, Duncan MacNeil, died
last month. Which means, luckily for us, that things are in something of a
turmoil at the moment. Duncan's son Jamie is to be the new head of the Family,
the MacNeil, as he's called. And, as is customary, all living members of the
Family will be gathering at Tower MacNeil to pay their respects to the new head,
and jockey for positions of influence and power. Nothing like a Family funeral
to bring out the vultures. Fenris will presumably be trying to pass himself off
as one of the more remote cousins. This is how we're going to get you in.'
Hawk and Fisher looked at each other.
'Wait a minute,' said Hawk. 'You mean we're going to be masquerading as
Quality?'
'Got it in one,' said Dubois. 'What's the matter? Don't you think you can do
it?'
'That's not the point,' said Fisher. 'The last I heard, passing yourself off as
Quality was still punishable by death. Is that being waived in our case?'
'No,' said Dubois. 'Whatever the outcome, officially you were never there. If
you do get caught, we'll disclaim all knowledge of you. This is a very delicate
situation.'
Hawk thought for a moment. 'Is this a volunteer situation?'
'Yes,' said Dubois. 'I volunteered you. Given the alternatives, I wouldn't argue
if I were you.'
Fisher looked at him steadily. 'We don't like being pressured, Dubois. We don't
like it at all.'
Dubois fought down an urge to shrink back in his chair as a sudden chill ran
through him. Without moving a muscle, Hawk and Fisher had suddenly become
dangerous. An air of menace and imminent violence filled the tiny office, as
though a slumbering wolf had suddenly awakened and shown its teeth. Dubois paled
slightly, but didn't flinch.
'Renegade Guards tend to have very short life spans,' he said evenly. 'If
anything was to happen to me, you wouldn't even make it to the city gates.'
Hawk smiled. 'You might be right, Dubois. But I wouldn't count on it if I were
you. We've faced worse odds in the past. We'll do your dirty work for you, this
time. I think we owe it to the Council, for letting Fenris get away from us. But
if you ever try to pressure us like this again, Dubois, I'll kill you. Believe
it.'
Dubois met Hawk's cold stare for a moment, and then looked away. When he looked
back, Hawk and Fisher were just Guards again. The air of violence was gone, as
though it had never been. For the first time, Dubois understood how they'd
gained their reputation. He got to his feet and cleared his throat carefully. He
didn't want to sound nervous or uncertain. 'Let's go. We've got just under two
hours to turn the pair of you into regular young flowers of the aristocracy and
deliver you to Tower MacNeil.'
'No problem,' said Hawk. 'We can be as aristocratic as the next man, if pushed.'
'Right,' said Fisher, with an impeccable upper-class accent. 'All we have to do
is act arrogant and obnoxious at all times, and remember not to blow our noses
on our sleeves without crooking our little fingers. What could go wrong?'
Dubois swallowed hard, but said nothing. There were times when mere words seemed
inadequate.
He hustled them out of his office and through the bustling corridors to an
anonymous file room safely out of everyone's way. He ushered them in, and then
locked the door behind them. A Guard medical sorcerer rose quickly to his feet,
nodded stiffly to the two Guards and looked enquiringly at Dubois. The Commander
nodded, and the sorcerer shrugged. He was a dark and intense-looking man in his
early forties, with a professional smile and large, powerful hands. He was
overdressed in a dark, formal way, as though he were about to attend a funeral.
Hawk looked at him suspiciously. He didn't trust Haven doctors. They seemed to
believe in suppositories for everything, from warts to deafness. He started to
turn to Dubois, but Fisher beat him to it.
'What's the doctor doing here? We're not sick.'
'This is Wulfgang. You can trust him completely.'
'Why?' said Hawk. 'You got something on him too?'
'Wulfgang specializes in shapechange magic, in a minor way,' said Dubois. 'Since
you both have something of a reputation in Haven, we can't have you walking into
Tower MacNeil with your own faces, can we? Wulfgang will give you new faces,
which won't be recognized.'
Hawk scowled at the sorcerer. 'I'm not feeling too fond of flesh-sculptors right
now. What's wrong with a good old-fashioned illusion spell?'
