reached out to poke it with a hesitant fingertip. It felt hard and unyielding,
the way marble should. Fisher took a deep breath and backed away, still keeping
a careful eye on the statue. The thing must be part of the house's security
system. They might have warned her… She turned her back on the marble figure and
continued on her way. Behind her she again heard a low grating sound as the
statue turned its head to follow her progress. Fisher wouldn't let herself look
back, but walked a little faster, despite herself. Up ahead, scattered across
the grounds, were three more statues, staring off in different directions.
Snow crunched loudly under Fisher's boots as she approached the house. Now that
she'd had a chance to get used to the idea, she approved of the statues. Simple
but effective security, and completely unobtrusive until activated by an
intruder. She couldn't help wondering what other surprises Captain ap Owen might
have set up in the grounds. The thought had only just crossed her mind when a
huge dog suddenly appeared out of nowhere right in front of her. She stumbled to
a halt, and the great hound thrust its head forward, sniffed at her
suspiciously, and then vanished into thin air. Fisher opened her mouth to say
something, and a second, different dog appeared out of nowhere just to her left.
It was even bigger than the first, its head on a level with her belt. It sniffed
at her, wagged its tail, then snapped out of existence. Fisher realized her
mouth was still hanging open, and shut it. Guard dogs. Of course. Entirely
logical. She walked on, and tried to get her breathing to go back to normal.
She finally came to a halt before the massive front door, beat on it smartly
with her fist, and made a quick use of the iron boot-scraper. And if anything
else appears, I'm going to hit it first, and ask questions afterwards. The door
opened almost immediately, confirming that they'd been watching her.
The man in footman's uniform looked convincing enough, and even had the barely
civil bow and haughty expression down right, but there was no getting away from
the fact that he was simply far too muscular for a gentleman's servant. He stood
back politely as she entered the brightly lit hall, then shut the door firmly
behind her. The sound of a key turning in the lock was quickly followed by the
sound of four separate bolts sliding home. Fisher smiled, and relaxed a little.
Maybe they did know what they were doing here, after all. She handed the footman
her cloak, waited patiently while he figured out where to hang it up, and then
allowed him to lead her down the hall and into the study, where Captain David ap
Owen was waiting for her.
The study was too large to be really cosy, but had all the comforts money could
buy. Captain ap Owen sat behind a large, ornate desk, talking quietly to someone
who looked as though he might be a real footman. Ap Owen glanced at Fisher as
she came in, but finished giving his instructions before waving both footmen
away. He got up from behind the desk and came forward to greet Fisher with an
outstretched hand. His handshake was firm, but hurried, and he sat down on the
edge of the desk to take a good look at her. Fisher stared back just as openly.
Captain ap Owen was in his mid-thirties, and a little less than average height,
which meant he had to tilt his head back to meet her gaze. It didn't seem to
bother him as much as it did some people. His build was stocky rather than
muscular, and his uniform had a sloppy, lived-in look. Fisher approved of that.
In her experience, Guards who worried too much about their appearance tended not
to worry enough about getting the job done right. Ap Owen had flaming red hair
and bright green eyes, along with a broad rash of freckles across his nose and
cheekbones which made him look deceptively youthful and open. His apparently
relaxed stance was undermined by an unwavering slight frown and occasional
sudden, jerky movements. Even sitting still, he gave the impression of a man
constantly on edge, just waiting for an attack so he could leap into action.
'Take a seat, Captain Fisher,' he said finally. 'Glad to have you with us. I've
heard a lot about you.'
'It's all true,' said Fisher easily. She dragged a chair over to the desk,
ignoring what that did to the carpet, and slumped gracelessly into it. The chair
was a rickety antique, but more comfortable than it appeared. She looked sharply
at ap Owen. 'I take it you've heard the latest news about me?'
'Of course,' said ap Owen. 'If it hadn't been for your recent… troubles, I'd
never have got you on my team. Make no mistake, Captain, everyone here,
including you and me and the six delegates, are all considered expendable. If
these Talks work out successfully, fine; if not, no one's going to miss us.
They'll just start over, with new delegates and new Talks. The odds are we're
all going to be killed before the Talks are over. There are a lot of people out
there who want us dead, for various political and business reasons, and I
haven't been allowed enough men to ward off a determined attack by a group of
lightly armed nuns. Had to be that way. The whole idea of this operation is to
be unobtrusive and hopefully overlooked. Personally, I think it's a dumb idea,
given the number of spies and loose mouths in this city, but no one asked my
opinion. The point is that if things go wrong and our cover is blown, we are
supposed to defend these Talks with our lives, and we probably will. Even though
they and we are completely replaceable.'
'I see you're the kind of leader who believes in a good pep talk,' said Fisher.
'Are you normally this optimistic?'
Captain ap Owen grinned briefly. 'I like my people to know what they're getting
into. Ideally, this should have been a volunteers-only operation, but since we
couldn't tell them what they'd be volunteering for, there didn't seem much
point. How much did they tell you about our situation here?'
'Not much. Just that it was minimum security, with essentially no backup.'
'You got that right, but it's not quite as bad as it sounds. The Talks aren't
actually taking place in the house itself, the building's far too vulnerable.
Instead, a Guard sorcerer has set up a pocket dimension, linked to the house.
It's been so thoroughly warded, a sorcerer could walk through this place from
top to bottom and never know the dimensional gateway was here. Clever, eh?'
'Very,' said Fisher carefully. 'But pocket dimensions aren't exactly stable, are
they? If you know about my current problems, then you can understand that I'm a
bit bloody wary about going into another pocket dimension.'
'Don't worry about it; once the dimension's been established, it's perfectly
secure. The only reason Morgan's fell apart is because he designed it that way,
with booby traps in case he was discovered. He didn't want any evidence
surviving to incriminate him.'
Fisher looked at him blankly. 'You mean it wasn't Hawk's fault after all? Then
why didn't Commander Glen tell us that? He must have known… Damn, I've got to
talk to Hawk!'
She jumped to her feet, but ap Owen didn't budge. 'Sit down, Captain Fisher.
You're not going anywhere. No one here is allowed to leave these premises until
the Talks are over. It's a matter of security. You must see that.'
'You can't stop me leaving.'
