Guards of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk and Fisher (Hawk & Fisher) (46 page)

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Authors: Simon R. Green

BOOK: Guards of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk and Fisher (Hawk & Fisher)
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Hawk looked at her narrowly. “I didn’t see you following us.”
Mistique smiled. “Well, after all, darling, I am a sorceress.”
Hawk nodded slowly. “All right; want to tell me why you were following us? And why you dropped out of sight right after we left the Hook?”
The sorceress scowled, and leaned back against the alley wall with her arms folded. “I know something that certain important people don’t want known. Something ... dangerous. So I decided to disappear for a while, and do some hard thinking. I needed someone to talk to, someone I could trust. You were the obvious choice, Hawk, but I had to be sure you were what you were supposed to be. So I’ve been following you.” She looked at him for a long moment. “Even now I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing. You’re not going to like this, Hawk.”
“Tell me,” said Hawk. “Tell me what you know.”
“I was talking to one of the prisoners we took in Morgan’s factory, before we brought them back to Headquarters,” said Mistique steadily. “He was mad as hell because the Guard Captain that Morgan had been paying off hadn’t warned them about the raid. I asked him for the Captain’s name, but he didn’t know it. He knew what the Captain looked like, though. He recognised her when he saw her during the raid.
“It was Fisher, Hawk. Captain Isobel Fisher.”
7
 
Scapegoat
 
Fisher looked out the repaired study window and glowered sourly at the array of armed men camped out on the wide lawns. There had to be a hundred men out there now, wearing chain mail under their furs and warming their hands at the scattered iron braziers. If the Peace Talks had had this kind of protection before, two of the delegates and all of the original security force might still be alive. Fisher felt obscurely guilty that she hadn’t got to know the men under her command before they were killed. As it was, it would take a hell of an army to get past the new security force; that, or a particularly nasty piece of magic. Fisher decided she wasn’t going to think about that. She still got edgy every time she remembered the flood of twisted creatures that had come spilling out of the split in reality. She’d only just got over jumping at every sudden noise.
Raised angry voices cut across her reverie, and she turned her back on the window to study the squabbling delegates. Her mouth compressed into a thin, flat line as she realised they were going round and round in the same futile circles. The Peace Talks were becoming increasingly warlike, with the two lords blaming everyone and everything but themselves for the present sorry state of affairs. Lord Nightingale of Outremer was the loudest voice, quite openly determined to lay the blame for everything at Haven’s door. Lord Regis was trying to be reasonable and diplomatic, but his temper was visibly shortening, and his voice had already risen to match Nightingale’s.
The two Majors, Comber and de Tournay, had withdrawn from the fray and settled themselves in a corner with the drinks cabinet. They were busily comparing whiskies and doing their best to ignore the whole unpleasantness. They had no interest in recriminations or name-calling, and had said so loudly. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been loud enough to compete with the racket Regis and Nightingale were making, so their objections had gone completely unnoticed by the two lords.
Captain ap Owen was standing with his back to the fireplace, watching everything and saying nothing. He hadn’t spoken a dozen words to anyone since he’d overseen the new security force as they cleared up the mess left by the assault. Fisher understood. The men under his command had been longtime associates and friends, and now he’d lost them all in one brief clash of arms. The bodies were gone now, along with the dead mercenaries, but the smell of blood and death was still strong in the house.
Major Comber stirred suddenly, and slammed the flat of his hand against the top of a nearby table. It made a satisfyingly loud noise, and the two lords shut up and looked round to see what was happening. Comber carefully put down his whisky glass, and glared at each lord in turn.
“I think this nonsense has gone on long enough,” he said firmly. “We’re supposed to be here to discuss the border problem, not play at who can shout and stamp their foot the loudest. We’ll probably never find out exactly who betrayed us, and it doesn’t matter worth a damn anyway. The attack was a failure and the Talks can go on. Now, may I respectfully suggest that we get back to what we’re supposed to be doing, and leave the squabbling and whining to the politicians. That’s what they’re paid for.”
De Tournay started to nod vigorously in agreement, and then stopped as he realised both Nightingale and Regis were glaring at Comber.
“Your opinion is noted,
Major
Comber,” said Lord Regis icily. “But allow me to remind you that your function at these Talks is to provide us with military information and advice. Nothing more. The Lord Nightingale and I are quite capable of deciding what is important here, and right now nothing is more important than determining who betrayed us. We could all have been killed, dammit, and I want to know who was responsible! Particularly since it seems we can’t trust our own security people to keep us safe.”
He glared at Fisher and ap Owen, who stared back calmly, fully aware that anything they said would only end up being used against them. Major de Tournay stirred in his corner, and then shrugged uncomfortably as Regis turned his glare on him.
“With respect, my lord, no security system is perfect. Fisher and ap Owen did their best, in extremely difficult circumstances.”
He shut up as Nightingale turned to glare at him too. Nightingale’s voice was low and deadly. “When I want your advice,
Major
de Tournay, I will ask for it. Until then you will oblige me by keeping your mouth shut. Is that clear?”
De Tournay and Comber looked at each other, nodded formally to their respective lords, and returned their attention to the whisky decanters. Regis sniffed, and looked back at Fisher and ap Owen.
“Now then, Captains, it cannot have escaped your attention that our security here has been hopelessly breached. Whether this was the result of internal treachery or simple incompetence on your part has yet to be determined. You can both be very sure there will be a full enquiry into your behaviour today....”
“I don’t think we can wait for that,” said Nightingale flatly. “Someone has revealed to our enemies not only the location of this house, but also the coordinates of the pocket dimension. Quite a few people knew about the house—that was inevitable—but only a handful knew about the pocket dimension. Don’t you find it interesting that our security problems only began after Captain Fisher joined us?”
“Oh, come on,” said ap Owen immediately. “You’re not seriously accusing Fisher? She’s a legend in Haven! And she fought like hell against the mercenaries and the creatures in the dimension. In fact, if not for her, I wouldn’t have lived long enough to reach the dimension, and you wouldn’t have lived long enough to close the dimensional doorway. We owe her our lives!”
“Look at the facts,” said Nightingale calmly. “The mercenaries didn’t attack the house till she got here, and the creatures didn’t attack us until she’d joined us in the pocket dimension....”
“He has a point,” said Regis slowly. “And it does seem odd that Captain Fisher should have been in the middle of so much fighting, and come out of it with only minor, superficial wounds.”
“She’s a good fighter!” said ap Owen. “Everyone knows that.”
“No one’s that good,” said Nightingale.
“And I must admit the new security forces have brought rather disquieting news concerning Fisher’s partner, Captain Hawk,” said Regis.
“Hawk?” said Fisher sharply. “What about Hawk?”
Regis fixed her with a steady gaze. “It appears that Captain Hawk is completely out of control. He’s assaulted a superior officer and gone on a rampage through the city, attacking people in some kind of personal vendetta, and killing anyone who gets in his way. We don’t know exactly how many people he’s killed, but we have a confirmed account of more than thirty dead, and almost as many injured. At least a dozen were just innocent passersby.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Fisher.
“In view of what you’ve just told me,” said Lord Nightingale, ignoring Fisher, “I don’t think I care to trust my well-being to any security force commanded by Captain Fisher. I’m afraid I must insist she be replaced, if the Talks are to continue.”
“I have to agree,” said Regis. “Well, Fisher, have you anything to say for yourself?”
“I didn’t want to come here in the first place,” said Fisher. “If you don’t want me, I’ll leave.”
“It’s not that simple,” said Nightingale coldly. “We can’t allow you to just walk out of here. You know too much. And besides, I don’t believe in letting traitors walk free. Regis, I want this woman arrested, and held incommunicado till these Talks are over.”
Regis nodded. “Fisher, hand over your sword. You’re under arrest. The charge is treason.”
Nightingale smiled at Fisher coldly. “I’ll see you hanged for your part in this, bitch.”
Fisher drew her sword and dropped into her fighting stance. “You and what army, Nightingale?”
“Fisher, that’s enough!” snapped Regis. “Give your sword to ap Owen. That’s an order!”
Fisher laughed at him. “Stuff your order. I may be slow, but I’m not crazy. You’re just desperate for a scapegoat, and I look like the best bet. Well, sorry, people, but I’m afraid I must decline the honour.”
Regis looked at ap Owen. “Arrest her! Do whatever you have to, but stop her. She mustn’t leave here alive!”
Ap Owen hesitated, and Fisher threw a chair at him. She was across the room and out the door before the two Majors could get to their feet and ap Owen could disentangle himself from the chair. Regis and Nightingale remained where they were, shouting orders. Fisher slammed the door shut behind her, grinned briefly as she heard someone crash into it, and then sprinted down the corridor to the front door. She yanked it open and charged out into the grounds. The new security people looked up in surprise, and moved towards her, anticipating some kind of emergency in the house. Fisher grabbed the first officer she saw, and pointed him at the front door.
“Block off that door and don’t let anyone out, no matter what! Take as many men as you need. Everything depends on you! Move it!”
The officer threw her a quick salute, and charged towards the door, yelling for his men to follow him. Fisher ran for the front gate, breathlessly informing every man-at-arms she passed of the terrible emergency up at the house. The emergency became more and more terrible, and the details more and more fantastic, as she passed through the main body of men, determined to stir up the maximum confusion. She finally reached the gate, and paused a moment to look back. The men-at-arms were milling aimlessly back and forth, trampling the snow into slush, shouting incoherently to each other, and searching desperately for some sign of the enemy. Fisher grinned, and set off down the street at a fast but eminently respectable pace, so as not to attract too much attention.
First thing was to get rid of the Guard’s uniform; it was too distinctive. Maybe change it for a long robe with a hood, something large and bulky enough to substantially alter her appearance. When word finally got out from the house, there were going to be an awful lot of people looking for Captain Fisher. There was no point in trying to protest her innocence. It was clear Nightingale had picked on her as the scapegoat, and the others would go along with him in order to keep the Talks going. As she’d been told from the beginning, the Peace Talks were far more important than any Guard Captain. She was expendable.
But she wasn’t about to let anyone or anything get between her and her search for Hawk. From the sound if it, things had got really out of hand since she left him with Burns. She frowned. Strange there hadn’t been any mention of Burns. She shook her head fiercely. That could wait. All that mattered was finding Hawk. If he really was out of control, she was the only one with any chance of stopping him. Whatever had happened between Hawk and Morgan, he’d listen to her.
And then they’d work together to find out who the real traitor was. Before, it had just been business. Now, it was personal.
 
In the study, Lord Regis and Lord Nightingale were taking turns shouting at Captain ap Owen. Outside in the grounds, Major Comber and Major de Tournay were trying desperately to restore some kind of order to the chaos Fisher had made out of the men-at-arms. Half of them were still running around like mad things, looking for something to hit and mistaking each other for the enemy as often as not. Ap Owen listened to the craziness outside, and somehow kept the smile from his lips. Eventually the lords ran out of accusations and curses, and stopped a moment to get their breath back. Ap Owen cleared his throat.
“What exactly do you want me to do, my lords? What are your orders?”
“Find Fisher!” snapped Nightingale, his cheeks mottled with rage. “I don’t care how you do it, but find her!”
“Take twenty men and go out into the city,” said Regis. “Spread the word among 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.”

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