little, and found various convincing reasons to look innocently around him. He
frowned as he spotted not one tail but several, moving casually through the
crowd after him and Burns. Whoever they were, they must be pretty good to have
got so close without his noticing them before. His frown deepened as he realized
the tails were gradually moving so as to surround him and Burns. It was looking
more and more like an ambush, and they'd chosen a good spot for it. The street
was growing increasingly narrow, and was blocked off at both ends by market
stalls. There were alleyways leading off to both sides, but none of them seemed
to lead anywhere helpful. And the next main intersection was too far away, if it
came to running. Besides, Hawk didn't believe in running. He let his hand fall
casually to the axe at his side, and looked for the place to make a stand.
'I make it seven,' said Burns quietly. 'They picked us up not long after we left
the baths.'
'I wasn't sure you'd even noticed we were being followed.'
'Working in the Westside, I spent a lot of time escorting gold- and silversmiths
to the banks with their week's receipts. There's nothing like guarding large
amounts of money in public to make you aware of when you're being followed. So
what are we going to do? Make a stand?'
'I don't think we've much choice. And it's eight, not seven. See that man in the
doorway, just ahead, pretending not to watch us?'
'Yes. Damn. And if we can see eight, you can bet there are just as many more
lurking somewhere handy out of sight, just in case they're needed. I don't like
the odds, Hawk.'
'I've faced worse.'
'I wish you'd stop saying that. It's very irritating, and I don't believe it for
a moment. Who do you think they are? Morgan's people?'
'Seems likely. He must have known I'd have to go to Saint Christophe eventually,
so he just staked the place out and waited for us to turn up. Damn. I hate being
predictable.'
'We could go back to Saint Christophe and ask for protection.'
'You have got to be joking. He'd love that. Besides, I have my reputation to
think of.'
'If we don't think of something fast, you're going to be the most reputable
corpse in the Northside!'
'Calm down, Burns. You worry too much. If the fighting ground is unfavorable,
then the obvious thing to do is change the fighting ground. You see that
fire-escape stairway, to your right?'
'Yeah, what about it? Hey, wait a minute, Hawk. You can't be serious…'
'Shut up and run.'
Hawk sprinted forward, with Burns only a pace or two behind. Their followers
hesitated a moment, and then charged after them, forcing their way through the
crowd with brutal efficiency. Hawk reached the metal stairway, and ran up it
without slowing, taking the steps two at a time. Burns hurried after him, the
fire escape shuddering under their combined weight. Hawk pulled himself up onto
the roof and scurried across the uneven tilework to crouch beside the nearest
chimney. Burns clattered unsteadily across to join him, and clutched at the
chimney stack to steady himself. Hawk shot him a grin.
'Check the other side of the roof; see if there's any other way to get up here.
I'll prepare a few nasty surprises.'
'You're just loving this, aren't you?' said Burns through clenched teeth,
hugging tight to the chimney.
'What's the matter with you?'
'I hate heights!'
'Oh, stop complaining, and get over to the other side. This is the perfect spot
to take them on; lots of hiding places, and they're just as much at a
disadvantage as we are. Trust me, I've done this before.'
Burns scowled at him, reluctantly let go of the chimney, and moved cautiously
across the tiles towards the spine of the roof. 'All right, what's the plan,
then?'
'Plan? What do we need a plan for? Just find something to hide behind, and jump
out on anything that moves!'
Burns disappeared over the roof ridge, muttering to himself. Hawk looked quickly
about him, taking in the gables, cornices, and chimney stacks that jutted from
the undulating sea of roofs to either side. He drew his axe and waited patiently
in the shadows of the chimney, listening for the first giveaway sound. It was at
times like this that he wished he carried a length of tripwire.
He looked around him, taking in the state of the roof. A lot of snow had fallen
away from the tiles, pulled loose by its own weight and the vibrations of
passing traffic below, but there was enough left to make the tiles suitably
treacherous. A sudden thud followed by muffled curses from the other side of the
roof suggested that Burns had reached the same conclusion. Hawk grinned
suddenly, as an idea hit him. He moved carefully away from the chimney,
unbuttoned his fly and urinated over a stretch of apparently safe tilework. It
steamed on the air, but froze almost as soon as it spread out across the tiles.
Hawk finished and quickly buttoned up again, wincing at the cold. He looked
round sharply as he caught the muffled sound of boots treading quietly on the
metal stairway, and he scurried back to crouch down on the opposite side of the
chimney stack. He breathed through his nose so that his steaming breath wouldn't
give him away, and clutched his axe firmly.
He listened carefully as the first man stepped off the stairway onto the roof,
hesitated, and then moved slowly forward. Timing his move precisely, Hawk
suddenly emerged from behind the chimney, swinging his axe in both hands.
Morgan's man spun round just in time to receive the heavy axehead in his
shoulder. The blade sheared clean through his collarbone, and blood flew
steaming on the bitter air. The impact drove the man to his knees. Hawk pulled
the axe free, put a boot against the man's shoulder and pushed. The man-at-arms
screamed once as he slid helplessly across the roof and over the side.
Hawk heard footsteps behind him and turned just in time to see the second man
hit the patch of frozen urine. The swordsman's feet shot out from under him and
he all but flew off the edge of the roof. The third man was standing by the fire
escape with his mouth hanging open. Hawk bent down, snatched up a handful of
snow, and threw it at him. As the man-at-arms raised his hand instinctively to
guard his face, Hawk stepped carefully forward and swung his axe in a vicious
sideways arc. The axehead punched clean through the man's rib cage and sent him
flying backwards. He disappeared over the edge of the roof and fell back down
the fire escape. There was a brief flurry of yells and curses from the other men
coming up the stairway, and Hawk grinned. He hurried forward, and his feet shot
out from under him.
He hit the roof hard, and slid kicking and cursing towards the edge of the roof.
