wasn't making them too popular with passing merchant ships, but no one in Haven
cared what they thought.
Not that the weather wizards had done anything more than buy Haven a few extra
weeks, a month at most. Once the real winter storms started there was nothing
anyone could do but nail up the shutters, stoke up the fire, and pray for
spring. But for the moment the sky was clear, and the chilly air was no worse
than an average autumn day. Hawk turned up his nose at the bracing air and
pulled his cloak tightly around him. He didn't like cloaks as a rule, they got
in the way during fights, but he liked the cold even less. The weather in the
Low Kingdoms was generally colder and harsher than in his homeland in the North,
and it was during fall and winter that he missed the Forest Kingdom most of all.
He smiled sourly as he looked out over the slumped buildings and grubby streets.
He was a long way from home.
'You're thinking about the Forest again, aren't you?' said Fisher.
'Yeah.'
'Don't. We can't go back.'
'We might. Some day.'
Fisher looked at him. 'Sure,' she said finally. 'Some day.'
They strode down the packed street, the crowd giving way before them. There were
a lot of people about for the time of night, but with winter so close, everyone
was desperate to get as much done as they could before the storms descended and
the streets became impassable. Hawk and Fisher smiled and nodded to familiar
faces, and slowly made their way into the Northside, their beat and one of the
worst areas in Haven. You could buy or sell anything there; every dirty little
trade, every shape and form of evil and corruption grew and flourished in the
dark and grimy streets of the Northside. Hawk and Fisher, who had worked the
area for over five years, had grown blase and hardened despite themselves. Yet
every day the Northside came up with new things to shock them. They tried hard
not to let it get to them.
They made a tour of all the usual dives, looking for word on the spy Fenris, but
to a man everyone they talked to swore blind they'd never even heard of the
fellow. Hawk and Fisher took turns smashing up furniture and glaring up close at
those they questioned, but not even their reputations could scare up any
information. Which meant that either the spy had gone to ground so thoroughly
that no one knew where he was, or his masters were paying out a small fortune in
bribes to keep peoples mouths shut. Probably the former. There was always
someone in the Northside who'd talk.
They left the Inn of the Black Freighter till last. It was a semirespectable
tavern and restaurant right on the outer edge of the Northside; the kind of
place where you paid through the nose for out-of-season delicacies, and the
waiter sneered at you if your accent slipped. It was also a clearing house for
information, gossip, and rumor, all for sale on a sliding scale that started at
expensive and rose quickly to extortionate. Hawk and Fisher looked in from time
to time to pick up the latest information, and never paid a penny. Instead, they
let their informants live and promised not to set fire to the building on the
way out.
They stood outside the Black Freighter a moment, listening to the sounds of
conversation and laughter carry softly on the night air. It seemed there was a
good crowd in tonight. They pushed open the door and strolled in, smiling
graciously about them. The headwaiter started towards them, his hand positioned
just right for a surreptitious bribe for a good table, and then he stopped dead,
his face falling as he saw who it was. A sudden silence fell across the tavern,
and a sea of sullen faces glared at Hawk and Fisher from the dimly lit tables.
As in most restaurants, the lighting was kept to a minimum. Officially, this was
to provide an intimate, romantic atmosphere. Hawk thought it was because if the
customers could see what they were eating, they wouldn't pay for it. But then he
was no romantic, as Fisher would be the first to agree.
The quiet was complete, save for the crackling of the fire at the end of the
room, and the atmosphere was so tense you could have struck a match off it. Hawk
and Fisher headed for the bar, which boasted richly polished chrome and veneer
and all the latest fashionable spirits and liqueurs, lined up in neat, orderly
rows. A large mirror covered most of the wall behind the bar, surrounded by
rococo scrollwork of gold and silver.
Hawk and Fisher leaned on the bar and smiled companionably at the bartender,
Howard, who looked as though he would have very much liked to turn and run, but
didn't dare. He swallowed once, gave the bartop a quick polish it didn't need,
and smiled fixedly at the two Guards. He might have been handsome in his heyday,
but twenty years of more than good living had buried those good looks under too
much weight, and his smile was weak now, from having been too many things to too
many people. He had a wife and a mistress who fought loudly in public, and many
other signs of success, but though he now owned the Inn where he'd once been
nothing more than a lowly waiter, he still liked to spend most of his time
behind the bar, keeping an eye on things. None of his staff was going to sneak
up on him, the way he had on the previous owner. Hawk shifted his weight
slightly, and the bartender jumped in spite of himself. Hawk smiled.
'Good crowd in tonight, Howard. How's business?'
'Fine! Just fine,' said Howard quickly. 'Couldn't be better. Can I get you a
drink? Or a table? Or… Oh hell, Hawk, you're not going to bust up the place
again, are you? I only just finished redecorating from the last time you were
here, and those mirrors are expensive. And you know the insurance people won't
pay out if you're involved. They class you and Fisher along with storm damage,
rogue magic, and Acts of Gods.'
'No need to be so worried, Howard,' said Fisher. 'Anyone would think you had
something to hide.'
'Look, I just run the place. No one tells me anything. You know that.'
'We're looking for someone,' said Hawk. 'Fenris. It's a spy's code name. You
ever heard it before?'
'No,' said the bartender quickly. 'Never. If I had, I'd tell you, word of honor.
I don't have any truck with spies. I'm a patriotic man, always have been, loyal
as the day is long…'
'Pack it in,' said Fisher. 'We believe you, though thousands wouldn't. Who's in
tonight that might know something?'
Howard hesitated, and Hawk frowned at him. The bartender swallowed hard.
'There's Fast Tommy, the Little Lord, and Razor Eddie. It's just possible they
might have heard a thing or two…'
Hawk nodded, and turned away from the bar to stare out over the restaurant.
People had started eating again, but the place was still silent as the tomb,
save for the odd clatter of cutlery on plates. It didn't take him long to spot
the three faces Howard had named. They were all quite well known, in their way.
