'I don't know how women can bear to wear those things. My feet are killing me.'
Hawk threw himself into the nearest chair, slumped back, and stretched out his
legs before him. It felt good to be able to relax, even if only for a while. The
chair was almost sinfully comfortable, and Hawk closed his eyes the better to
appreciate it. Some moments were just too precious to be interrupted. But it
didn't last. There were too many more important things clamoring for his
attention. He opened his eyes reluctantly, and glanced round the room Jamie had
given them; just on the off chance he'd spot something that would let him ignore
his problems for a while, till he felt better able to deal with them. The room
looked back, determined not to be helpful.
It was fairly luxurious as far as Quality standards went; and Quality standards
went pretty far. There were thick rugs on the floor, an assortment of
classically elegant furniture, and a bed with a mattress deep enough to swim in.
Paintings of famous military scenes covered the walls (military art was in that
Season), and half a dozen small nude statuettes smiled and posed tastefully on
alabaster pedestals. And over by the window, half hidden by drapes heavy enough
to block out the harshest sunlight, stood the room's own private liquor cabinet.
Hawk smiled. Now, that was what he called civilized. He started to lever himself
up out of his chair, but Fisher intercepted his gaze, and shook her head firmly.
'You've had enough for one day, Hawk. Let's try and concentrate on the matter at
hand. Namely, what the hell is going on here? Every time I think I've got it
worked out, something else happens that throws it all back up in the air again.'
'It's not really as confusing as it seems,' said Hawk, settling back in his
chair. 'It just looks that way because we don't have all the facts yet. Or if we
do, we haven't got them arranged in the right order. What's really complicating
the hell out of things is that we're dealing with two separate cases here. On
the one hand we have an escaped killer freak, disguised as one of us by an
illusion, while on the other hand we have our missing spy Fenris, disguised as
one of us by a shapechange. We can't sort the two cases out because they keep
interfering with each other, and we can't tell which evidence belongs to which
case.'
'Could that be deliberate?' said Fisher, thoughtfully massaging her left foot
and staring off into the distance. 'Maybe Fenris recognized us despite our
disguises, and let the freak loose himself, as a way of throwing us off his
trail.'
'I don't think so,' said Hawk slowly. 'The way we look now, our own creditors
wouldn't know us. And from the mess the freak made of his cell wall, I don't
think he needed any help in getting out. But certainly Fenris could be using the
situation to keep the waters muddy. I would, in his shoes.'
'He might know who we are, regardless of our disguises,' said Fisher. 'There
could be a leak at Headquarters. Hell, half the force is on the take these days,
one way or another.'
'True. But how many people actually know about us? Commander Dubois, Mistress
Melanie, and that sorcerer doctor, Wulfgang. That's all.'
'That's enough,' said Fisher flatly. 'Whatever information Fenris has, it must
be bloody important to have panicked the Council so badly. And if it's that
important, it must be worth a lot of money to the right people.'
Hawk thought about it. 'All right. There's a chance Fenris knows who we really
are. Which means we can't trust anyone here.'
Fisher smiled. 'What's new about that?'
Hawk scowled. 'I can't believe we've been here all this time and we're still no
nearer identifying Fenris. Look: We know Fenris went to the sorcerer Grimm for
an emergency shapechange. That means the body he's got now isn't his usual one.
Which means we can eliminate all the people here who can prove they've had the
same form for more than twenty-four hours.'
Fisher looked at him. 'That's brilliant, Hawk. Why didn't we think of that
before?'
'Well, we have been rather preoccupied.'
'Right,' said Fisher. 'So, that cuts out Jamie, Katrina, and Holly. And the two
servants, Greaves and Brennan.'
'And Lord Arthur,' said Hawk. 'I've met him before. And since Arthur and Jamie
have both known David for some time, that just leaves Alistair and Marc.' Hawk
nodded slowly to himself. 'And we've already established Alistair is lying about
where he comes from; he didn't know the Red Marches are flooded these days.'
'Yes,' said Fisher, in a voice that indicated she was about to get picky. 'But
he does seem to know a hell of a lot about MacNeil Family history. How would our
spy know things like that?'
'He could if he was a friend of the MacNeils in his true form. According to
Jamie, his Family have a long history of bad feelings with the Court. Which
would explain why Fenris made a beeline for Tower MacNeil in the first place.
But, on the other hand…'
'We shouldn't dismiss Marc out of hand. Do we have any actual evidence against
him?'
'Nothing so far. He's a quiet sort; hasn't much to say for himself at the best
of times. Doesn't seem to care much for us, but we can't drag him off in chains
just for that.' Hawk frowned. 'But… in all the time we've been here, Marc hasn't
volunteered one thing about his past; not a single damned thing about who or
what he was before he came to Tower MacNeil. Interesting, that.'
Fisher shook her head. 'Just because he hasn't opened up to us doesn't mean he
hasn't talked to the others.'
'True. So, for the time being I think we'll concentrate our attention on
Alistair, as far as finding the spy is concerned. Tracking down the freak is
going to be rather more difficult.'
'Why? Once again it has to be someone not well known by the others. The freak
might have taken on someone else's memories, but he's still stuck with his own
face. So, we're back to Marc and Alistair again. And if Alistair is Fenris, then
Marc has to be the freak. Right?'
Hawk shook his head regretfully. 'Nice try, Isobel. Unfortunately, it's not that
simple.'
Fisher groaned. 'Somehow I just knew you were going to say that. All right, what
have I missed this time?'
'You're forgetting the illusion spell the freak cast to cover up the hole in the
wall on the third floor. It's quite possible the freak is still messing with our
minds, to make us see someone else's face, instead of his own. Which means he
could be anyone. Male or female. And with complete access to that person's
memories, there's no way anyone's going to trip him up with an unexpected
question.'
'Oh great,' said Fisher. 'So where does that leave us?'
'Wait. It gets worse. It seems to me the freak may be interfering with our minds
