the Guard and on the streets. I'm authorizing you to offer a reward of five
thousand ducats for Fisher's capture, dead or alive.'
Ap Owen looked at him sharply. 'But surely, my lord, we need her alive for
questioning?'
'We need her stopped before she can do any more damage,' said Nightingale. 'As
long as she's free, she's a threat. You know her reputation, Captain; if you try
and take her alive she'll just kill your men and disappear again.
We can't risk that. If you find her, kill her. No quarter, no mercy.'
Ap Owen looked at Regis, who nodded steadfastly. 'Do whatever you have to,
Captain, but don't bring her back alive.'
Chapter Eight
Cutting Loose
Burns and Mistique followed Hawk silently as he led the way through a maze of
narrow back streets and shadowed alleyways. He'd hardly said a word since
Mistique reluctantly named Fisher as the traitor, and his cold, grim visage
hadn't encouraged conversation. Burns and Mistique glanced at each other, but a
few raised eyebrows and quick shrugs were enough to make it clear neither of
them knew what was going through Hawk's mind. Given what he was capable of, his
continued silence was worrying. Passersby hurried to get out of his way, but
Hawk seemed totally oblivious of everything except his own thoughts. He walked
unhurriedly through the shabby streets, staring straight ahead, his bloodied axe
still in his hand.
They finally emerged into a quiet side street, and Hawk led his companions into
a squalid little tavern called The Dragon's Blood. The air was thick with smoke,
and the sawdust on the floor looked like it hadn't been changed in years.
Mistique wrinkled her nose. Burns pushed the door closed with his fingertips,
and then wiped his hand fastidiously on his cloak. The place was as dark as a
coal cellar, with only occasional pools of dirty yellow light at the occupied
tables, and two storm lanterns hanging over the bar. The window shutters had
been nailed shut to ensure privacy. Shadowed drinkers watched silently as Hawk
led his companions to a booth at the back of the room. Conversation slowly
resumed as the three Guards seated themselves, but only as a bare murmur. The
bartender emerged from behind his bar to serve them personally, and Hawk ordered
three beers. They sat in silence until he came back with the drinks. Hawk paid
him the exact amount and then dismissed him with a curt wave of his hand. The
bartender shrugged, and went back to the bar to continue polishing his glasses
with a dirty rag. Mistique looked dubiously at the drink in front of her, and
decided that she wasn't thirsty. Hawk took two deep swallows from his beer, and
then put the glass down and stared into it.
'The beer's safe enough here,' he said quietly, 'but don't touch the spirits.
Half of it's made from wood alcohol.'
Burns sipped at his beer to show willing, and his lips thinned away from his
teeth at the bitterness. 'Nice place you've chosen, Hawk. Great atmosphere. I'll
bet plague rats stay away from here in case they catch something. Do you drink
here often?'
'Only when I have some hard thinking to do. No one bothers me here.' He drank
from his glass again, and Burns and Mistique waited patiently for him to
continue. Hawk wiped the froth from his mouth with the back of his hand, and
leaned back in his chair, staring out into the gloom around them. 'It all comes
down to Morgan,' he said finally. 'He has all the answers. If we're ever going
to get to the truth of what's really going on here, we have to find Morgan.'
'Half the Guards in Haven are trying to do just that,' said Burns. 'But Morgan's
always been able to disappear when he needed to. He could be anywhere in Haven.
Our people are out leaning on every loose mouth in the city, but no one knows
anything. Morgan's gone to ground so thoroughly this time that even his own
people don't seem to know how to contact him. You must really have thrown a
scare into him.'
'He can't afford to be totally isolated,' said Mistique. 'He still has to move
his super-chacal before word gets out how dangerous it is. And to do that, he
must be doing business, however indirectly, with some distributor.'
'Exactly,' said Hawk. 'Morgan may have crawled into his hole and pulled it in
after him, but his lieutenants are still out there, doing business on his
behalf. All we have to do is tail them, and eventually one of them will lead us
to Morgan.'
Burns shook his head. 'Hawk, those people are professionals; they'll spot any
tail we put on them.'
'They won't spot a sorcerer,' said Hawk. 'How about it, Mistique? Can you follow
these people with your magic?'
'There is a way…' said Mistique slowly. 'But I don't know these lieutenants like
you do. You'll have to open your minds so that I can learn what you know. Are
you and Burns willing to do that?'
'No,' said Burns flatly. 'Sorry, Hawk, but there are some things I won't do, for
you or anyone else. My thoughts are private, and my memories are my own.'
'There's no need to be so defensive,' said Mistique. 'It's a common reaction to
my ability. Though why anyone should assume their secret thoughts are so
fascinating I couldn't resist peeking, is beyond me.'
'Take what you need from me,' said Hawk. 'But don't go wandering. There are
things in my mind you don't want to know.'
'I can believe that,' said Mistique. She closed her eyes, and a cold breeze
swept through Hawk's mind, ruffling his thoughts, and picking things up and
putting them down again. Images flickered in Hawk's mind like flaring candles,
come and gone so quickly he barely recognized them, and then Mistique opened her
eyes, and his mind was quiet again. Mistique nodded, satisfied. 'Got it. Names
and faces for all twenty of his lieutenants. Now I need both of you to sit still
and be quiet. This is going to be very difficult, and I can't afford any
distractions.'
She closed her eyes again and let her mind drift up and out, becoming one with
the mists. Wherever mists and fogs rose throughout the city she had eyes and
ears. She became the mists, flowing over houses and streets, through keyholes
and under doors, and nothing was hidden from her. The mists carried her up into
the sky, and she soared high above the city, seeing it spread out below her like
a vast dark stone labyrinth of sudden turnings and endless possibilities. Lights
burned in its darkness like furnaces in hell. She swooped down over the city,
spreading her consciousness among the many streets and alleyways as mists curled
everywhere in Haven. Buildings raced past her at bewildering speed, people
appearing and disappearing in an instant, but all of them observed and studied
and dismissed. Words from a thousand conversations battered her hearing like
pounding waves on the rocks outside the harbor. Mistique let it all flow past
and over her, sifting through the endless noise and chaos until finally she
