gaping wound in his side, and a lot of blood on the floor around him. Fisher
pulled out a clean folded handkerchief and pressed it against the wound, but it
was clearly too little too late. Burns turned his head slightly, and looked at
Hawk. His face was very pale, but his mouth and chin were red with blood.
'Almost had you,' he said quietly.
'Why, Burns?' said Hawk. 'You were one of the best. Everyone said so. Why betray
everything you ever believed in?'
'For the money, of course. I spent years overseeing transactions of gold and
silver and precious stones, protecting men who had more money than they knew
what to do with, and eventually I just decided I wanted some of that wealth for
myself. I wanted some of the luxuries and comforts I saw every day and couldn't
touch. Honor and honesty are all very well, but they don't pay the bills. I was
going to be rich, Hawk, richer than you've ever dreamed of. Almost made it.
Would have, too, if it hadn't been for you and that bitch.'
'You were Morgan's contact inside the Guard, weren't you?' said Fisher
impatiently.
'Of course,' said Burns. 'I went to Morgan and suggested it. It was perfect. Who
would ever have suspected me?'
'People died because of you,' said Hawk. 'People who trusted you.'
Burns grinned widely. There was blood on his teeth. 'They shouldn't have got in
my way. I killed Doughty, you know. He was there when that little bastard at the
drug factory recognized me. So I killed him, and persuaded the informant to
implicate Fisher instead.'
'You killed your own partner?' said Fisher, shocked.
'Why not?' said Burns. 'I was going to be rich. I didn't need him anymore.'
'Why did you betray the Peace Talks?' said Hawk.
Burns chuckled painfully, and fresh blood spilled down his chin. 'I didn't. That
wasn't me. See, you're not as smart as you thought you were, are you?'
'Who was it, Burns?' said Hawk. 'Who were you working for?'
'Go to hell,' said Burns. He reared up, tried to spit blood at Hawk, and then
the light went out of his eyes and he fell back and died.
'Great,' said Hawk. 'Bloody marvelous. Every time I think I've found someone who
can explain what the hell's going on, they bloody up and die on me.'
He closed Burns's staring eyes with a surprisingly gentle hand, and got to his
feet again. He made to offer ap Owen his axe, but ap Owen shook his head. Fisher
stood up, looked down at Burns a moment, and then kicked the body viciously.
'Don't,' said Hawk. 'He was a good man, once.'
'I'm damned if I know what's happening anymore,' said ap Owen. 'But Burns's
dying confession seemed straightforward enough, so as far as I'm concerned,
you're both cleared. But you'd better stick with me until we can get back to
Headquarters and make it official. There's still a lot of people out on the
streets looking for you, with swords in their hands and blood in their eyes. The
Council has done everything but declare open season on you both.'
'We can't go back,' said Hawk. 'It's not over yet. You heard what Burns said; he
didn't betray the Peace Talks. Someone else did that. Which means the delegates
are still in danger. And the two people who should be in charge of protecting
them are right here in this room with me. It's more than possible that Isobel
was deliberately set up to draw attention away from the real traitor, so that
security round the delegates would be relaxed.'
'We've got to get back there,' said Fisher. 'Those poor bastards think they're
safe, now I'm not there! They're probably not even bothering with anything more
than basic security.'
'Let's go,' said ap Owen. 'Anything could be happening while we're standing
around being horrified.' He turned to the silently watching Constables. 'You
stick with us. From now on, you do whatever Hawk and Fisher say. They're in
charge. Anyone have any problems with that?' The Guards coughed and shrugged and
looked at their boots. Ap Owen smiled slightly. 'I thought not. All right, let's
move it. Follow me, people.'
He led the way out of the inn at a quick, impatient pace, followed resignedly by
the Guards. Hawk and Fisher brought up the rear, along with Mistique. Hawk
cleared his throat.
'Thanks for the help,' he said brusquely. 'Of course, we could have beaten the
Guards by ourselves, if we'd had to.'
'Oh, of course you could, darling,' said Mistique. 'But you wouldn't have wanted
to hurt all those innocent people, would you?'
'Of course not,' said Fisher, looking straight ahead. 'That's why we were
holding back. Otherwise, we could have beaten them easily.'
'Of course,' said Mistique.
The Peace Talks had ground to a halt yet again, and the four remaining delegates
were taking another break in the study. None of them minded much; they all knew
nothing important was going to be decided until the new delegates arrived to
replace the two who'd died. And in particular, the Haven delegation wasn't going
to agree to anything until they had a sorcerer on their side who could
counteract any subtle magics the Lord Nightingale might or might not be using to
influence things. No one admitted any of this out loud, of course, but everyone
understood the situation. They still kept the Talks going. They were, after all,
politicians, and there was always the chance someone might be manoeuvred into
saying something they hadn't meant to. Careers could be built by pouncing on
lapses like that.
Lord Nightingale selected one of the cut-glass decanters and poured out generous
measures for them all. The mood was generally more relaxed than it had been, now
that the traitor Fisher had been exposed, and they shared little jokes and
anecdotes as they emptied their glasses. Nothing like talking for ages and
saying nothing to work up a really good thirst. Their murmured conversation
wandered aimlessly. None of them were in any particular hurry to get back to the
Talks. The chairs were comfortable, the room was pleasantly warm, and in a while
it would be time to take a break for dinner anyway.
Lord Nightingale looked at the clock on the mantelpiece, heaved himself out of
his chair and left the room on a muttered errand. He shut the door, smiled
broadly, and then froze as someone in the hall behind him cleared his throat
politely. He looked round sharply, and found himself facing ap Owen and Fisher,
someone who by his appearance had to be Hawk, and a woman in sorcerer's black.
For a moment Nightingale just stood there, his face and mind utterly blank, and
then he drew himself up, and nodded quickly to ap Owen.
'Well done, Captain. You've apprehended the traitor Fisher. I'll see you receive
a commendation for this.'
Ap Owen stared at him stonily. 'I'm afraid that's not why we're here, my lord.
It is my duty to inform you that you are under arrest.'
'If this is some kind of joke, Captain, it's in very bad taste. I shall inform
