“I knew there was another reason why we got out of politics,” said Fisher. “It makes my head hurt.”
“Oh, it gets worse,” said Chance. “You have to understand, the population of the Forest Land has changed dramatically in nature since you left. A large proportion of the original population was wiped out during the Demon War. After the long night ended, there was a massive influx of people from Redhart and Hillsdown, to take over the abandoned farms and land, and all the jobs that needed to be filled to keep the Kingdom’s business infrastructure going. Even with the new immigrants the Forest Land came perilously close to famine and bankruptcy. The Forest needed help and couldn’t afford to be fussy about the forms it came in.
“As a result the Forest population is much more … varied than it used to be. The newcomers brought their own ways and traditions with them—political, religious, and social. The ground was ripe for change. This situation was further complicated by the opening of the Rift. A lot of people took one look at the devastated Forest, compared it with the freedoms and luxuries of the southern Kingdoms, and voted with their feet by immigrating south through the Rift. The Forest lost a hell of a lot of people before King Harald put guards on the Rift, to stop the outpouring. He also set up a Customs barrier, laying a heavy duty on all goods coming through from the south. Which was a good and a bad thing. Good because the revenues are helping to repair the damaged Land, and bad because goods are now much more expensive in the north than in the south. Much of the Forest is still dead and blighted by the long night. Its regeneration needs all the help it can get. But as a result, a great deal of the Land’s food has to be imported from the south, which makes it expensive. And hungry people tend to think with their bellies.
“King Harald was one of the few surviving heroes of the Demon War. That was about all that kept the Land from open revolution. Now he’s gone …”
“What about the Darkwood?” asked Hawk. “Is it still limited to its original boundaries?”
“Oh, yes. It’s quiet now. There’s no Tanglewood to be a barrier anymore, but demons rarely venture outside the darkness these days. When they do, we mostly just shoo them back in.”
Fisher raised an eyebrow. “Since when is the Forest soft on demons? Evil bloody things; they killed a lot of good people. Including your father.”
“You don’t know,” said Chance slowly. “I did wonder if the truth about the demons had traveled this far south.”
“What truth?” Hawk asked.
“I’m sorry,” said Chance. “There’s no easy way to tell you this. After the Blue Moon and the long night had passed, and the Demon Prince had been … banished, all that had been touched by the Wild Magic returned to normal. Including all the dead demons, who changed back into dead people. Did you never wonder where all the thousands of new demons were coming from? Every man, woman, and child who perished in the long night rose again, transformed into demons, in all their many monstrous forms. That’s why demons always killed their prey. They were making new demons.”
“Oh, God,” said Hawk. “I never thought … we were all fighting our own family and friends, and killing them again.” He looked almost angrily at Chance. “Could we have turned the demons back into people? If we’d known, back then?”
“You didn’t know,” said Chance. “You couldn’t know. And no one’s come up with a cure in the past twelve years. Though the Magus insists he’s working on it.”
“All that time we spent killing demons, always thinking we were doing the right thing,” said Hawk. “If we’d taken our fight straight to the Demon Prince, defeated him earlier … how many people might we have saved from being living nightmares?”
“Hush,” said Fisher, putting a hand on Hawk’s arm. “Hush. We didn’t know. We had no way of knowing then. Change the subject, Chance. Tell us about the Castle. Anything new happening there?”
“Oh, yes,” said Change. “After the Demon Prince disappeared, the last traces of the astrologer’s old spell vanished with him, and the once missing, now returned South Wing became entirely normal again. However, something else appeared, right in the middle of the Castle. The Inverted Cathedral. This gets kind of complicated, but bear with me. A lot of this is only recently rediscovered knowledge, dug out of the oldest sections of the Castle libraries; knowledge forgotten, and perhaps repressed, for centuries.
“The Cathedral existed before the Castle. It was built long ago, so far back that history becomes legend becomes myth. In those far-off days, the building of Cathedrals was both an art and a science. Cathedrals were constructed for a specific reason: direct communication with God. The whole structure, the very shapes, angles, and stresses, all had meaning and purpose. The finished building was designed to resonate, like some gigantic tuning fork. When people worshiped in their Cathedral, the structure took their voices and their faith and sent them flying up to God, in one great more-than-human sound. And God would hear, and send his love and grace back, transmuted down the long tower of the Cathedral into a form the people could accept. Direct communication with God.
“They say in those days the power of Good radiated from the Cathedral, bathing all the Forest land in its sanctity, so that the Forest and its people grew straight and true, strong and sure in the love of God.
“So of course it all went horribly wrong. Somebody with a hell of a lot of magic, and I use the word hell advisedly, inverted the Cathedral. Instead of soaring up into the sky, the great structure now plunged down into the earth. And what had once sent prayers up to God, now sent mortal voices down to … what? And who was listening? The sanctity was gone from the Forest, and new darker influences spread across the Land. The first Forest King ordered the Forest Castle built around the Inverted Cathedral, to contain it and guard it, and then used magic to keep the Cathedral subtly out of phase with the rest of the Castle, sealing it off forever in its own private place. No more worship there, from anyone to anything.
“Even so, just the presence of the spell was enough to account for the Castle’s singular physical nature, whereby its interior is far larger than its exterior. But something in the long night, in its coming or its ending, broke the old spell, and the Inverted Cathedral has returned.
“The first investigative team that King Harald sent in didn’t come back. Neither did the second, the third, or the fourth, even though each team was increasingly larger and better armed. The Magus wouldn’t even go near it for all his vaunted powers. Only one man returned, from team five. He was quite mad. He’d met and spoken with something that destroyed his mind. Since then, he has only ever spoken three words. The Burning Man.”
“And the significance of that?” asked Fisher after a moment.
Chance shrugged. “Your guess is as good as anyone’s. The Magus tried to interrogate the man and lurched out of his room only a few minutes later, trembling and vomiting. The madman’s been kept in strict isolation ever since, for his and our protection. King Harald declared the Inverted Cathedral off limits to absolutely everyone, and had the Magus set up powerful protective wards to keep the damned structure strictly isolated. There are currently teams of scholars reading their way through every old library in the Land, in shifts, searching for more information. Meanwhile, there are strange lights in the sky, strange voices deep in the earth, and livestock have been born with two heads, speaking unknown languages.”
“Jesus,” said Fisher, shuddering suddenly despite herself. “And people are still living in the Castle, with that thing in their midst? How do you stand it?”
“How did you cope with the missing South Wing?” asked Chance. “Remember, we’ve had twelve years to get used to it.”
“If we’d known, we would have come back,” said Hawk. “We thought all the evil was destroyed. We should have known better.”
“What about the Infernal Devices?” Fisher asked suddenly. “There was a rumor a few years back that one of those damned swords had returned.”
“Yes,” said Chance. “Wolfsbane. Luckily it wasn
’t around for long, and did no real damage before it was lost again. There’s been no report of Flarebright resurfacing since it was lost in the long night, and Rockbreaker was destroyed.”
“We know that,” said Fisher. “We were there. The Demon Prince broke the damned sword across his knee. I heard it scream as it died.”
This time it was Chance’s turn to shudder. “I’ve heard all the legends, but every now and again it strikes me hard. You actually met the Demon Prince, the personification of darkness upon the earth. What was he like?”
“I don’t remember anymore,” said Fisher. “I put a lot of effort into forgetting. But still, sometimes, I see him in my dreams.”
“The past rarely lets go of you,” said Hawk. “And the future never stops making demands. Right, Champion’s son?”
“There’s only a little more to tell,” said Chance.
“Good,” said a voice from under the table.
“The Landsgraves of Gold and Silver and Copper aren’t what they were,” said Chance. “With such a reduced population, the Forest was faced with a much smaller tax base, which meant Harald was forced to ask Redhart and Hillsdown for help in rebuilding. He paid for this aid by selling off a large proportion of the Land’s mineral rights. I was the Landsgraves’ last desperate grasp for power, and with that failure, their day was over. There is only one Landsgrave now; Sir Robert Hawke. One of the many now fighting for democracy and peasants’ rights.
“His main opponent is that enigmatic personage, the Shaman. He was a solitary hermit for many years, living deep in the Forest, far from anything even approaching civilization, wanting only to be left alone. But slowly he gained a reputation as a holy man and a spiritual leader, and the peasants went to him for help. He had a strange kind of magic, and a desperate need to be of use. One day last year he just strode right into the Forest Castle and said he’d come to demand fair treatment for the peasants, or else. The guards tried to throw him out, and he turned each and every one of them into small, green, stupid hopping things. The Magus went to meet him, they stared at each other in silence for a while, and then the Magus turned and walked away, saying there was nothing he could do. The King refused to meet with the Shaman, so he set up camp in the great courtyard, preaching peasants’ rights to anyone who’d stand still long enough.”
“I hate would-be saints,” said Hawk. “Every one I ever met was a royal pain in the arse.”
“One last piece of dispiriting news, Your Highness,” said Chance. “As I’m sure you remember, most of the Forest’s fighting men died during the long night. In order to maintain an army strong enough to dissuade Redhart and Hillsdown from invading while the Forest was still vulnerable, Harald called in a large number of mercenaries. The bulk of the Forest army is currently composed of professional fighting men from a dozen countries, with no ties to the Forest Land but their pay packets. They’re a continuing drain on the Forest economy, and very unpopular. Harald used them mostly to keep the peasants in line and enforce the new taxes.”
“We’ll have to do something about that,” said Hawk.
“Are you really thinking about taking on a whole army?” said Fisher.
“Why not? We’ve done it before.”
“I know! I still have the scars.”
“Are you saying you’re willing to return to the Forest Land, Your Highnesses?” said Chance.
“It seems we’re needed,” said Hawk. “I’ve always understood my duty. And I have my nephew’s safety to think of. But if we are going back to the Forest, it won’t be as Prince Rupert and Princess Julia. Those names carry too much baggage. We’ll go back as Hawk and Fisher, two investigators authorized by Rupert and Julia to find Harald’s murderer and take care of business. I’ll write us a letter to that effect. I’ve still got my Royal seal somewhere.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Fisher. “I’ve no wish to go back to being Princess Julia again. Far too limiting. Besides, I’m not who I used to be.”
“No one ever is,” said Chance.
“Which is sometimes a blessing,” said Hawk. “But I’ll tell you this: If we really are finally leaving Haven for good, we’ve got a lot of business to clean up here first.”
“Right,” said Fisher.
CHAPTER THREE
* * *
Taking Care of Business
When Hawk and Fisher announced that they were making a quick stop at their lodgings before they went any further, Chance wasn’t at all sure what to expect. So far the legendary figures of Prince Rupert and Princess Julia had been, certainly not a disappointment, but nothing at all like the people he’d imagined finding at the end of his journey south. He wasn’t sure exactly who or what he’d expected, but nothing in the legends, official or otherwise, had prepared him for Hawk and Fisher. Or Haven, come to that. And he definitely hadn’t expected to find the two greatest heroes of the Demon War living in a one-room apartment over a somewhat shabby family café.
The area was quiet, and people nodded politely if not warmly to Hawk and Fisher as they passed. It was midday now, and pleasant aromas of newly prepared food drifted from the open door of the café. Chance’s stomach rumbled loudly, reminding him it had been more than a while since he’d last eaten. But Hawk and Fisher ignored the café’s open door, heading instead for a rickety wooden stairway on the side of the building. From the look of the battered wooden steps, the whole structure hadn’t been painted or repaired since it was first erected. Chance watched the stairway shake and shudder under Hawk and Fisher’s weight, sighed once, loudly, and went after them. It took all his strength to drag Chappie away from the café’s enticing aromas, and even more determination to get the reluctant animal to ascend the wooden steps.
“We took this place when we first arrived in Haven,” said Fisher over her shoulder. “It was supposed to be just a temporary measure while we looked around for something better, or at least less appalling, but somehow we never got around to moving. What with one thing and another, we rarely get to spend much time here anyway. It’s a good enough place, I suppose. Warm in winter and cool in summer, and nobody bothers us. We get free meals at the café below, because burglars, thieves, and protection thugs have learned to give it a wide berth rather than annoy us.”
“Is the food any good?” asked Chance politely.
“It’s free,” said Hawk shortly.
“Best kind,” said Chappie.
The quivering stairway ended at last at a heavy wooden door with three heavy steel locks, and a varied assortment of protective runes and sigils carved deep into the wood. Hawk produced a set of keys on a ring, from which dangled not only a rabbit’s foot, but also what looked suspiciously like a human finger bone. He unlocked the three locks, pushed open the door, and Fisher barged right past him, plunging into the room beyond with sword in hand. She looked quickly about her, and only then put her sword away and gestured for the others to come in.
“You can’t be too careful, not in Haven,” she said offhandedly. “We’ve made a lot of enemies here over the years. Came home one time and found an iron golem waiting for us. Luckily its weight was too much for the floorboards, and the damned thing crashed right through into the café below. Last I heard, they were still using its belly as an oven. Make yourselves comfortable while Hawk and I grab a few things.”
Chance looked interestedly about him as Hawk locked the door and slammed home two heavy bolts at top and bottom. The apartment was one long room, taking up the whole upper floor of the building. The three narrow windows were barred, and what little light crept in only served to show up how gloomy the rest of the place was, even at midday. Fisher lit a lantern, and a warm golden glow filled her end of the room. There wasn’t much furniture, and belongings lay piled in heaps on the floor next to the walls. Rugs and carpets of varying design and quality covered the floor, scuffed and worn smooth in places. Everything in the room looked like it had been bought secondhand, to no overall plan or design. Periods and styles clashed rebelliously, but still
the apartment had a warm, cozy feel to it; of comfort and ease and peace of heart.
Chance wandered slowly round the room, looking at this and that, trying to get a feel for Hawk’s and Fisher’s characters from the way they lived, but really the only word that immediately came to mind was slobs. Chance couldn’t help noticing the protective wards carved into the window-sills, and even on the walls and ceilings. He recognized just enough of the simpler spells to feel very uneasy about what had presumably tried to get in sometime in the past.
“There are more defenses you can’t see,” said Hawk casually, searching through the rumpled sheets on the unmade bed at the far end of the room. “People will always find the courage to strike from a distance, and Haven is crawling with magic-users for hire.”
Chance nodded, taking in the string of garlic buds hanging on one wall, next to two crossed silver daggers and a large vial of what he assumed was holy water. “You have troubles with vampires and werewolves here?” he asked, trying hard to sound casual.
“Just now and again,” said Fisher, pulling off her boots and wiggling her toes with unrestrained satisfaction. “That stuff’s just tools of the trade in a city like Haven.”
On the wall next to the tools of the trade was a plain, unadorned crucifix, and Chance crossed himself automatically. “I see you still kept your faith, so far from home.”
“You need something to believe in in a cesspit like this,” said Hawk, staring dubiously at a pair of rolled socks.
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