Hawk looked at him. 'You know, Benny, you're starting to get on my nerves. Now,
be a good fellow and shut your face or I'll have Fisher take you into the
nearest dark alley and reason with you for a while.'
Benny glanced at Fisher, and then looked quickly away when he discovered she was
smiling at him. He'd heard about Fisher's idea of reasoning with people. If she
did it where they lived, it tended to play hell with the furniture. Benny had
second thoughts, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.
Guard Headquarters loomed up before them, a massive squat stone building with
heavy oaken doors and arrow-slit windows. It had the look of a place constantly
under siege, which wasn't far off the mark. Riots, hexes, and fire-bombings were
a part of everyday life for the Headquarters, but no one had ever closed it down
for more than a few hours. It had its own sorcerers, and everyone in the
building went armed at all times, from the clerks to the Commanders. It took a
lot to disrupt the Headquarters' even running, though last year's rash of
possessions had come close.
The main doors were always open, but everyone knew that could change in a second
if danger threatened. A long-established spell on the doors saw to that, and
tough luck if anyone got in the way. A steady stream of people bustled in and
out of the building as Hawk and Fisher approached with their prisoner. There was
the usual mixture of Constables and the people helping them with their
enquiries, along with anxious relatives searching for the recently arrested, and
backstreet lawyers touting for business. And of course there were always those
who'd come to the Guard for help, all with the same thinly disguised look of
fear and desperation. Most people only went to the Guard when they'd tried
everything else. The law was harsh and brutal, and weighted heavily in favor of
the rich and powerful. There were Guards who were sympathetic, and would do what
they could for those in real need, but for the most part the poor had no reason
to trust the Guard. Like everything else in Haven, justice was for sale.
Everyone had their price.
Everyone except Hawk and Fisher.
Benny thought fleetingly of making a run for it, then noticed that Fisher's hand
was resting casually on the pommel of her sword, and quickly thought better of
it. He sighed heavily, and accompanied Hawk and Fisher through the main doors
and into the crowded lobby of Guard Headquarters. The wide, low-ceilinged room
was packed from wall to wall, and the noise was deafening. Mothers and
grandmothers sat in little groups against the walls, chatting and gossiping and
keeping a watchful eye on their children as they scampered back and forth,
getting in everyone's way. None of them had any real business at Headquarters,
but the Guard let them stay. It was the only place in that area where small
children could play safely. Besides which, the Guard Constables had found they
could pick up a lot of useful information by casually listening in on the
women's gossip.
Over by the booking desk in the center of the lobby, a seething mob of people
screamed and shouted and pleaded, together with much shedding of tears and
beating of breasts, but the three desk Sergeants took it in their stride. They'd
heard it all before. They nodded more or less sympathetically to worried
relatives, glared at the lawyers, and got on with booking the various criminals
as the Constables brought them forward, as though the utter bedlam around them
was of absolutely no interest.
Hawk and Fisher made their way through the shifting mass of bodies by sheer
determination and liberal use of their elbows. Hawk hammered on the desk with
his fist until he got a Sergeant's attention, and then handed Benny over into
his keeping. The Sergeant fixed him with a malicious grin.
'Well, well, what have we here? It's not often you grace us with your loathsome
company, Benny. What did you do to upset Hawk and Fisher?'
'Nothing! I was just minding my own business…'
'Your business is illegal, Benny, and if you were stupid enough to do it in
front of those two, you deserve everything that happens to you.' He struck the
large brass bell beside him, the sharp sound cutting cleanly through the
surrounding babble, and a Constable came over to the desk and led Benny away.
Hawk and Fisher watched them go, Benny the Weasel still loudly protesting his
innocence.
'We won't be able to hold him, you know,' said the desk Sergeant.
Fisher looked at him sharply. 'Why the hell not? We'll both give evidence
against him.'
'It'll never come to trial,' said the Sergeant. 'Benny has friends, hard though
that is to believe. The word will come down, and we'll have to let him go.'
Fisher scowled. 'Sometimes I wonder why we bother making arrests at all. These
days, it seems practically every villain and thug we meet has connections with
someone higher up. Or the judge gets bribed. Or the jury gets intimidated.'
'That's Haven for you,' said the Sergeant. 'Hey, don't look at me. I just work
here.'
Fisher growled something indistinct, and allowed Hawk to pull her away from the
desk. They elbowed their way back through the crowd, glaring down any
objections, and found a place by the huge open fireplace to warm their hands and
take a seat for a moment. They nodded amiably to the half-dozen Constables
already there. None of them actually had any business that required their
presence at Headquarters, but none of them were that keen to give up the nice
warm lobby for the freezing cold outside. Hawk turned around and lifted his
cloak to warm his backside at the fire. He smiled happily and looked out over
the lobby.
A small group of whores, looking bright and gaudy and not a little chilly in
their working finery, were waiting patiently to be booked, fined, and released
so that they could get back to work as quickly as possible. Some politician or
newspaper editor must have had a sudden attack of principles, or been leaned on
by some pressure group, and declared loudly that Something Should Be Done about
the rising tide of vice in Our Fair City. So the Guard made a big show of
arresting whoever happened to be around at the time, the pimps paid the fines
out of their petty cash, and business went on as usual. Hawk shrugged. It was
none of his business. He nodded to a few familiar faces, and then tensed as one
of the girls was viciously backhanded by her pimp. Hawk strode quickly over to
them and dropped a heavy hand on the pimp's shoulder. The pimp spun round,
knocking the hand away, and then froze as he realized who it was. He was young
and muscular, with a ratty-looking moustache, dressed to the nines and proud of
it. He studied Hawk warily.
'What do you want, Captain? I'm clean.'
'You wouldn't be clean if you washed every day with sulphuric acid. You are a
pimp, Sebastian, the lowest of the low, and I know you of old. I thought I
warned you about maltreating your girls.'
