The door flew open and a dozen cloaked and masked men burst in. Hawk yelled a warning to Fisher, and drew his axe. The guests at table screamed and yelled and struggled to get to their feet. Fisher moved to stand between Adamant and his attackers, sword at the ready. Bearclaw and Kincaid rose to their feet and looked around for weapons. Neither of them had worn swords to table. That would have been an insult to Adamant. Bearclaw seized a heavy silver candlestick and hefted it professionally. Kincaid broke a bottle against the wall with practiced ease.
The attackers came spilling round Hawk like rushing water past a rock. He stood his ground and cut down two men with his axe. Bearclaw came charging forward, deftly avoided a vicious sword stroke, and clubbed the man to the ground. He quickly stepped over the fallen body to tackle another intruder, and Kincaid came forward to guard his back with the broken bottle. Two swordsmen thought he'd be an easy target. Kincaid smiled easily, cut one man's throat, and blinded the other, his hand moving too quickly to be seen. He threw aside the bottle and snatched up a dead man's sword. Blood flew on the air as he moved swiftly among the scattering enemy, his sword darting back and forth in textbook cuts and parries.
Three men got past Hawk and the two warriors, and made straight for Adamant. Fisher met them with her sword. The first man went down almost immediately, clutching at the wide rip in his gut. The second forced Fisher back step by step with a whirlwind attack of cuts and thrusts. The third man closed in on Adamant. Fisher tried desperately to finish her man so that she could get back to protect Adamant, but her opponent was too good to be that easily dismissed. Fisher cut and parried and then faked a stumble. The masked man thought he saw his chance and moved in, and Fisher ran him through. She jerked her sword free and turned quickly round just in time to see Adamant throw a bowl of soup into the third man's face, blinding him. The intruder clawed at his eyes, and Adamant kicked him in the groin. As the man sank to his knees, Adamant took away his sword and looked around for another victim.
Hawk cut down two more men, the wide head of his axe punching through hidden chain mail as though it wasn't there. Bearclaw and Kincaid fought back to back, and the last two intruders went down in a flurry of blood and steel. A sudden silence fell across the dining hall, broken only by the gradually slowing breathing of the fighting men and mutters of shock and amazement from the guests. Bearclaw bound up a nasty-looking gash in his shoulder with a dubious-looking handkerchief taken from his sleeve.
"I must be getting old, Joshua," he said easily. "Was a time they'd never have got near me."
Kincaid nodded solemnly. "Well, it must be said the candlestick never was your preferred weapon. Grab one of their swords and we'll go and see if there are any more of these bastards in the house."
The guests stirred uneasily at that, and Adamant moved quickly forward to address them. "It's all right, my friends, the worst is over. Please stay where you are while I have my people search the house and make it secure." He moved quickly over to Bearclaw and Kincaid and kept his voice low as he spoke to them. "Joshua, Laurence, find out what's happened to my men-at-arms, and report back here when the house is fully secure again. And remember,
Danny and Stefan went off on their own just before the attack; make sure they're all right."
The two warriors nodded silently and left the hall sword in hand. Hawk wanted to go with them, but knew he couldn't. His priority had to be Adamant's safety. He went over to Fisher, and made sure she was all right. They looked around at the mayhem they'd helped to cause, and shared a grin. Adamant approached them and nodded his thanks.
"It may not look like it," he said quietly, "but this is still something of a disaster. A whole lot of nasty questions come to mind, starting with how the hell they got in. Mortice's wards are supposed to keep out anyone I haven't personally vouched for. And why the hell didn't Medley's intelligence people warn him there was a raid in the offing?"
"No problem," said Hawk. "We handled it. Any idea who they were?"
"Not really," said Adamant. "A last-chance assault by Hardcastle's people, presumably. Let's take a look."
They moved quickly among the bodies, pulling off masks and studying faces. Hawk and Fisher didn't recognize anyone, but Adamant remained kneeling beside the body of a grey-haired man with a harsh, scarred face that hadn't relaxed at all in death. Hawk and Fisher moved over to join him.
"General Longarm himself," said Adamant. "He always did take his politics too personally."
"Let's keep looking," said Fisher. "Maybe we'll get really lucky and find Hardcastle's here as well."
Adamant smiled in spite of himself, and then looked round quickly as the main door opened and Kincaid came in. He walked straight over to Adamant, who rose to his feet.
"We have something of a problem, James," he said quietly. "Not with the house; that's secure. It seems there were fifty of the intruders originally. Your people took care of the others before they got this far. No one heard anything because of the noise of the banquet. We've got quite a few casualties, and even more dead. These people were professionals."
"Militant Brothers of Steel," said Hawk.
Kincaid nodded, but didn't look all that impressed. "Well, they're dead militants now."
"So what's the problem?" said Fisher.
"I think you'd better come and see for yourself, James." Kincaid couldn't seem to meet Adamant's eyes. "It's Dannielle."
Adamant's face lost all its color, as though someone had just punched him in the gut. "How badly is she hurt?"
"I really think you'd better see for yourself, James."
"You're not going anywhere without us," said Hawk quickly.
Adamant nodded impatiently. "Let's go."
Kincaid led the way out into the main corridor. There were bodies and blood everywhere. Preoccupied as he was. Adamant still had room in him to be sickened at the sight of so many men who had died in his behalf. He stepped carefully over the bodies, nodding here and there at a familiar face, and then he stopped and knelt by one man. It was the butler, Villiers. He'd taken a dozen wounds before he died, and a broken sword was still clutched in his hand.
"He never believed in Reform," said Adamant. "But he stayed with me anyway, because I was family. He never left us, even during the bad days. He protected me as a child. And all it got him was a bad death, in a house where he should have been safe." He got to his feet, and nodded for Kincaid to carry on. They walked on down the corridor. When Adamant spoke again his voice was perfectly steady. "You haven't said anything about Stefan. Is he all right?"
"Oh, he's fine," said Kincaid. "Locked himself in your study with his girlfriend. I don't think he knows anything's happened. Just shouted at me to go away when I knocked on the door."
Adamant nodded, not really listening, and Kincaid led the way up the stairs to the next floor. His face was fixed and drawn. She must be dead, thought Hawk. Anything else, he would have said. They moved along the hallway to Adamant's bedroom. Bearclaw was waiting outside the door. There was pity in his face as he looked at Adamant. Pity, and something else Hawk couldn't read. Bearclaw opened the bedroom door, and everyone drew back a few steps to let Adamant go in first.
In the bedroom, Dannielle was sitting on the bed. Her face was flushed, and she wouldn't look Adamant in the eye. Kincaid picked up a small silver snuff box from the dressing table and handed it to Adamant. He looked at it blankly for a moment and then opened it. Inside was a small amount of grey-white powder.
"Cocaine," said Bearclaw. "We found her helping herself when we were searching this floor."
"Oh, great," said Fisher. "That's going to look really good when it gets out."
"It's not going to get out," said Adamant. "Not until after the election." He looked at Dannielle, and his mouth tightened. "How could you, Danny? How could you do this to me?"
"Oh, that's typical, James. Never mind why I'm taking drugs; all you care about is your precious reputation." Dannielle glared at him sullenly, her voice shrill and bitter. "I've been
sniffing dust ever since you started campaigning for the Steppes. The best part of three months, and it's taken you till now to notice. It's all your fault, anyway. You never had time for me any more; all you talked and thought and dreamed about was your bloody campaign. I tried to go along, to be a part of it for your sake, but you never even noticed I was there.
"We aren't all as strong as you, James. You've been full of energy right from the beginning, inspired by your Cause, running full tilt from one thing to the next, with the rest of us straggling along behind you, trying to keep up. I just couldn't anymore. I was tired all the time, and lonely and depressed. So I started sniffing dust now and again, just to give me a boost, make me feel human, and keep me going. Only the campaign just ground on and on, and I got more and more tired, and there were always more and more things that needed doing for your bloody Cause. And I needed more and more dust just to feel normal and get me through the day. I even had to embezzle from you to pay for the dust."
"Why didn't you tell me?" said Adamant. He realized he was still holding the snuff box, and put it down on the dressing table. He wiped his fingers unconsciously on his sleeve, as though they were dirty.
"When did I ever get a chance to talk to you?" said Dannielle. "We haven't had a moment to ourselves in months."
Adamant started to say something heated in reply, and then stopped himself. When he spoke again his voice was low and cold and very controlled. "Perhaps you're right, Danny. I don't know. We'll talk about it later. In the meantime, I have to think about how best to keep this quiet. A lot of people are counting on me to swing this election, and I won't let them down. If news of this gets out, I'll be ruined. I've made a lot of enemies in my stand against the drug trade, and they'd use a scandal like this to destroy me. Who else knows, apart from us? Who was your supplier?"
Dannielle smiled almost triumphantly. "Lucien Sykes."
"What?"
"Drugs come in through the docks, and he takes his share. Where do you suppose all the money came from that he's been donating to your campaign?"
Adamant turned away and closed his eyes for a moment. Nobody said anything. Adamant turned to Hawk and Fisher. "How much of this do you need to report?"
"Not all of it," said Hawk. "Keeping quiet about your wife comes under the general heading of protecting you. But Sykes is a different matter. We can't ignore someone in his position. But he can wait until after the election tonight."
"Thank you," said Adamant. "That's all I can ask. Danny, pull yourself together, and then come down and help with my guests. People have been hurt."
"Do I get to keep my dust?"
"Do you need it?"
"Yes."
"Then keep it."
Adamant turned and left the room, and the others followed him out.
"I'm going to have to put out some kind of statement about the attack," said Adamant as they went back downstairs. "To reassure my followers that I'm all right. Rumors spread like wildfire in Haven, particularly when it's bad news. I'd better talk to Stefan. He's probably still in my study with his lady friend." He smiled briefly. "I did promise no one would barge in on them while they were there, but I'm sure he won't mind, under the circumstances."
He led the way back to his study, and knocked briskly on the door. "Stefan, it's James. I need to see you. Something's come up." He waited a moment, but there was no reply. Adamant smiled slightly, produced a key, and unlocked the door. He knocked again, and pushed the door open. Medley and Roxanne were sitting together. For a moment nobody moved as the two sides stared at each other, and then Roxanne grabbed her sword belt and drew her sword.
"Get out of here, Stefan! They'll kill us both!"
She started towards Adamant, sword at the ready, and then stopped as Hawk and Fisher moved quickly forward to protect him. Medley got to his feet, but stood where he was, staring at Adamant's horrified face. Roxanne grabbed a burning brand from the fire and set it to a hanging tapestry. Flames ran up the wall. She grabbed Medley's arm and urged him towards the other door. Hawk and Fisher went after them as Bearclaw and Kincaid tried to beat out the fire before it could spread. Adamant just stood where he was, watching.
Roxanne backed away from Hawk and Fisher one step at a time, her sword sweeping back and forth before her, keeping the Guards at bay. She was grinning broadly, and her eyes were full of death. She glanced back over her shoulder just long enough to be sure that Medley was safely through the door. Then after a moment's hesitation, she turned and ran after him. Hawk and Fisher plunged after her, but she slammed the door in their faces and turned the key on the other side. Hawk lifted his axe to break down the door, and then lowered it again. His job was to protect Adamant, not to chase after traitors. Medley and Roxanne would keep for another day. He put away his axe, and after a moment Fisher sheathed her sword. Kincaid and Bearclaw had torn down the burning tapestry, and were stamping out the flames. Adamant was still standing in the doorway, staring at nothing. Hawk glanced at Fisher, who shrugged uncertainly. He moved tentatively towards Adamant, and the politician's eyes came back into focus. He had to swallow two or three times before he could speak.
"My wife is taking drugs supplied by one of my main backers. My guests have been attacked in my own dining hall, and most of my men-at-arms are dead. And now it turns out my closest friend has been a traitor all along. I never knew politics could cost so much." For a moment he couldn't get his breath, and Hawk thought Adamant might cry, but the moment passed and some of his strength came back to him. His face hardened, and when he spoke again his voice was strained but steady.
"Not a word of this to anyone. We can't afford for my supporters to know how badly we've been betrayed. It will all come out after the election, but by then it won't matter, whatever the result. So, we'll go back to the dining hall, reassure my guests, and keep our mouths shut about all this.
"But win or lose, Stefan Medley is a dead man."
Medley followed Roxanne through the packed streets, dazed and unquestioning. It was all like some horrible nightmare he couldn't wake up from. One moment he'd been cherishing a snatched moment with Roxanne, and the next he was running for his life. He didn't know where he was running to; Roxanne had taken over as soon as they left the house. He couldn't seem to concentrate on anything; all he could see was Adamant's face, and the look of betrayal in his eyes. Roxanne led him through increasingly narrow and squalid streets until finally they came to the Sheep's Head Inn, a quiet backwater tavern they'd used before for their few assignations.
The bartender showed no interest in seeing them again, but then he never did. That was one of the reasons why they'd chosen the place. Roxanne collected the key and led the way up the back stairs to their usual room, and for the first time they were able to sit down and look at each other.
"All in all, it's been an interesting day," said Roxanne. "Pity I didn't have time to kill Hawk and Fisher, but there'll be other times."
"Is that all you've got to say?" said Medley. "My life is ruined, my reputation isn't worth spit any more, and all you can think about is fighting a couple of Guards? We've got to get out of Haven, Roxanne. James won't move against us while the election's still running, but once that's over he'll send every man he's got after us. His pride won't let him do anything else. And you can bet he won't have given them orders to bring us back alive."
"We can go to Hardcastle," said Roxanne. "He'll protect us. If only to spite Adamant."
"No," said Medley. "Not Hardcastle. I've hurt him too badly in the past. He has scores to settle with me. Look, Roxanne, this is our chance to get away from all this and start over."
"But I don't want to leave," said Roxanne. "I don't run from anyone. Besides, I like working for Hardcastle. The pay's good, and the work is interesting. I'm staying."
Medley looked at her for a long moment. "Why are you doing this to me, Roxanne?"
"Doing what?"
"I love you, Roxanne, but I can't go to Hardcastle. If you love me, you won't ask me to."
Roxanne looked down at the floor, and then back at him again. "Sorry, Stefan, but I told you; I work for Hardcastle. You were just another job. Hardcastle's sorcerer set me on you, as a way of getting to Adamant. You told me all kinds of useful things without realizing it. You were fun, but now the masks are off and the game's over. You lost. I'm sorry to rush you, Stefan, but I have to be going now."
She got to her feet, and Medley stood up to face her. "So it was all nothing but lies; all the things you said to me. I betrayed my best friend and dragged my honor through the mud, ail for you; and now you're telling me it was all for nothing? I can't believe that, Roxanne. I won't believe that."
She shrugged. "Don't take it so personally. It's just business. No hard feelings?"
Medley sat down again, as though all the strength had gone out of his legs. "No; no hard feelings, Roxanne."
She smiled at him briefly, and left, closing the door quietly behind her. Medley stared at the closed door, listening to the sound of her footsteps disappearing down the stairs.
Chapter Seven
DESPERATE CHOICES
All the clocks in Haven struck eight in the evening, and the polls finally opened. Brightly colored election booths appeared on the designated street corners, in the time it took for the bells to toll the hour. Magically created and maintained by the Council's circle of sorcerers, they were as near to being corruption-proof as anything in Haven could be. Once a vote had been registered and placed in the metal box, nothing but the most powerful sorceries could get at it again. There were fingerprint checks to make sure everyone was who they claimed to be, and to keep out simulacra and homunculi. Haven's voters were a devious lot when it came to corruption and cheating.
The inns and the brothels were still going strong, though the free booze had run out long ago. Some of the day-long revelers were busy sleeping it off on tavern floors and tables, uncaring that they were missing the very chance to vote that they'd been celebrating. Bets were still being made, at widely varying odds, and rumor and speculation ran rife. People thronged the streets, dressed in their best. An election was an Occasion, a chance to see and be seen. Pickpockets and cutpurses had never had it so good. Ballad singers stood at every street corner, singing the latest broadsheets about the two main candidates, interspersed now and then with requested old favorites. There were jugglers and conjurers and stilt-walkers, and of course any number of street preachers making the most of the occasion, always on the lookout for a crowd and anyone who looked like they might stand still long enough to be preached at.
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