though de Tournay drank deeply, his attention remained fixed on Nightingale
rather than the wine.
'Before we begin, Major,' said Nightingale, leaning elegantly back in his chair,
'perhaps you would oblige me by bringing me up to date on what is happening with
Captains Hawk and Fisher. I must confess I half expect every knock at my door to
be them, come to drag me off in chains to face Haven justice, or worse still,
administer it themselves.'
'You needn't worry about them,' said de Tournay. 'They had their chance to kill
you, and chose not to. They understand the realities of the situation. And since
they've been cleared of all charges, they're not foolish enough to risk their
necks again by harassing you.'
'I'm relieved to hear it.' Nightingale drank his wine unhurriedly, ignoring de
Tournay's impatience to get to the point of his visit. Nightingale smiled. It
was very good wine. 'Now then, Major, what exactly did you want to see me
about?'
'Are there really plans to use this super-chacal drug as a weapon in a war
against Haven?'
'Of course. I feel sure it will be very effective. The few test results we've
seen have been very promising.'
'It's a dishonorable way to fight a war,' said de Tournay flatly.
Nightingale laughed, honestly amused. 'There's nothing honorable about war,
Major. It's nothing but slaughter and destruction on a grand scale, and the more
efficiently it's pursued, the better. The drug is just another weapon, that's
all.'
'But your way leaves no room for heroes or triumphs. Only the spectacle of mad
animals, tearing each other to pieces.'
Nightingale poured himself another glass of wine, and topped up de Tournay's. 'I
take it you're one of those people who doesn't want this war, de Tournay. Allow
me to remind you that a war is vital if your career is to advance at all.
There's no other way for you to gain rank or position so quickly. Or are you
content to be a Major all your life?'
'I have ambitions. But I'd prefer to obtain my advances cleanly and honorably.'
'Oh, don't worry, Major. There will be plenty of honest slaughter for you and
your troops to get involved in. The drug will be used mainly against the
civilian population, as a means of destroying morale. You should be grateful,
Major. The drug will make your job a great deal easier. Leave policy to the
politicians, de Tournay. It's not your province to worry about such things.'
De Tournay shrugged. 'Maybe you're right.' He rose abruptly to his feet, gulped
down the last of his wine, and put down the empty glass with unnecessary force.
'I'm afraid I can't stay any longer, my lord. Business to attend to. Enjoy your
wine.' He bowed formally and left, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Nightingale listened to the key turning in the lock, and shrugged. Poor,
innocent Major de Tournay. A good judge of wine, though. He raised his glass in
a sardonic toast to the closed door.
De Tournay walked unhurriedly down the corridor, and nodded to the bored guard
standing at the far end. 'The Lord Nightingale doesn't wish to be disturbed for
the rest of the afternoon. See to it, would you?'
The guard nodded, and then smiled his thanks at the Major's generous tip. De
Toumay made his way through the bustling corridors of the Embassy and out into
the packed streets, paying no attention to anyone he passed, lost in his own
thoughts. The wine should be taking effect soon. There was a certain ironic
justice in Nightingale's falling prey to the very drug he'd championed so
highly. It hadn't been too difficult to obtain a small supply of the
super-chacal from Guard Headquarters, though procuring an antidote he could take
in advance had proved rather expensive. But he'd known he'd have to drink the
wine too, so Nightingale wouldn't be suspicious. The drug should be raging
through Nightingale's system by now. Left alone, locked in his room, Lord
Nightingale would tear himself apart, victim of his own murderous intentions.
Which only went to prove there was some justice in the world. You just had to
help it along now and again.
De Tournay smiled briefly, and walked off into the city, disappearing into the
milling crowds.
Hawk and Fisher stood together outside Guard Headquarters, watching the crowds.
They'd been officially cleared of all outstanding charges, officially yelled at
for getting themselves into such a mess in the first place by going off on their
own, officially congratulated for exposing the traitors Burns and Nightingale,
and very officially refused any extra overtime payments. At which point Hawk and
Fisher had decided it was time to leave, before things got even more
complicated. Hawk thought briefly about apologizing to Commander Glen for
hitting him, but one look at Glen's simmering glare was enough to convince him
it might not be the best time to bring the matter up.
He smiled regretfully, and looked about him. The streets were packed with people
trudging determinedly through the snow and slush, none of them paying Hawk and
Fisher any attention at all. Hawk grinned. He liked it that way. After
everything they'd been through, it made a pleasant change.
'I still can't believe how quickly everyone believed you were crazy and I was a
traitor,' said Fisher. 'When you consider everything we've done for this city…'
'Yeah, well,' said Hawk. 'That's Haven for you. And it has to be said, our
reputations didn't help. Half of Haven thinks we're crazy anyway for being so
honest, and thinking we can change things, and the other half is scared stiff
we're going to kill them on sight.'
'We need our reputations; we couldn't get any work done without them. It's still
no reason to turn on us like that. You know, Hawk, the more I think about it,
the more I think Haven is such a worthless cesspool it's not worth saving. It's
crooked and corrupt and so steeped in sin we might have done the Low Kingdoms a
favor by just staying out of things and letting Morgan dump his drugs onto the
streets.'
'Now don't be like that, Isobel. Most people in Haven are just like anyone else
in any other city—good people struggling to make ends meet, keep their heads
above water, and hold their families together. They're too busy working all the
hours God sends to think about making trouble. That's why we do this job;
because they're worth protecting from the scum out there who try to steal what
little those people have. Most people here are all right.'
'Yeah?' growled Fisher. 'Name two.'
She broke off as a woman wrapped in tattered furs waded through the thick slush
to get to them. She was hauling along by one hand a little girl of about five or
six, so buried under mismatched furs as to be little more than a bundle on legs.
The mother lurched to a halt before Hawk and Fisher and stopped for a moment to
get her breath. The little girl looked up at Hawk, smiled shyly, and then hid
