In Brimstone Hall Jillian Hardcastle sat on her bed, her back pressed against the headboard, ,hugging her knees to her. Her husband had finally returned. She could hear him moving about downstairs, talking to people. His people; none of them were hers. She had no friends, no one came to visit her, and she wasn’t even allowed a servant of her own. All she had was her husband, the great Cameron Hardcastle.
She looked at her bare arms, and the bruises stood out plainly even under the extra layer of makeup. She’d have to put on some long gloves before she went downstairs. Her back still ached, but it was bearable now. At least there hadn’t been any blood in her urine this time.
She often thought about leaving, but she had no one to go to. And wherever she went, Cameron would be sure to find her. He had people everywhere. She sometimes thought about killing herself, but she could never find the courage. Hardcastle had beaten all the courage out of her.
She heard footsteps outside on the landing, and fear rushed through her like icy water, freezing her in place. It was Cameron, come to look for her. She knew it. She stared fixedly at the closed bedroom door, barely breathing, her stomach churning with tension. The footsteps approached the door, and then went on past it, continuing on down the hall. It wasn’t Cameron. Just one of the servants.
She ought to go down and welcome Cameron home. He expected it of her. If she didn’t go downstairs, he would come looking for her, and then he would be angry. But she couldn’t go down to meet him. Not yet. She’d go downstairs in a minute, and greet him in the polite monotone he’d taught her. She would go down. In a minute. Or two.
Hardcastle sank into his favourite chair, looked around his warm, comfortable study, and sighed gratefully. It had been a long hard day, and he wasn’t as young as he used to be. He started to order Jillian to fetch him a drink, and then scowled as he realised she wasn’t there. She ought to have been there. It was her place to be at his side, to carry out his wishes. He’d have to have another little talk with her, later on.
He got to his feet, ignoring his protesting back, and poured himself a large drink. He rather thought he’d earned it. There was a polite knock on the door. He grunted acknowledgement, and Wulf and Roxanne came in. He dropped back into his chair, noting sourly that neither of them looked particulary tired. Roxanne leaned against the fireplace with her arms folded, waiting patiently for new orders. Hardcastle made a mental note that she wasn’t to be offered a guest room for the night. They’d probably wake up in the early hours to find the whole damned Hall going up in flames. Wulf was standing to attention before him, waiting to report on the day’s activities. Let him wait. Do him good to be reminded of his place. Hardcastle sipped unhurriedly at his wine and nodded to the sorcerer to begin.
Most of the reports were pretty straightforward. All the minor candidates had dropped out. That simplified things; he wouldn’t have to have them crushed or killed, after all. General Longarm was still making a nuisance of himself, but he was nothing more than a retired soldier with delusions of grandeur. And with all the mercenaries currently battling on the streets, soldiers weren’t particularly popular right now.
Adamant was still a problem. The Brotherhood of Steel had declared in his favour, and were actually out on the streets sticking their noses into things that didn’t concern them. Hardcastle scowled. He’d better send word to the right people, and have them called off.
Wulf droned on, showing off as usual on how professional he was, and Hardcastle waited impatiently. He had a question he wanted to ask, but he didn’t interrupt. He didn’t want the sorcerer to be able to hide behind the excuse of any other business. Wulf eventually ground to a halt, and Hardcastle looked at him steadily.
“You said you had power now, Wulf. Real power. Power enough to break through Adamant’s wards and destroy him and his new sorcerer. So why are they still alive?”
Wulf met Hardcastle’s gaze unflinchingly. “It will take time before I can use my power safely. For the moment I’m still concentrating on the wards that hold the Abomination safely within me. We were lucky to find him while he was still relatively weak after his awakening. If he was to escape now, he would be very angry with us. He’d destroy us, the whole of Haven, and probably most of the Low Kingdoms. We’re talking about one of the Transient Beings, Cameron, not some low-level demon. We can’t risk something like that getting loose.”
“So what am I supposed to do about Adamant?”
“Nothing, for the moment. Let’s wait and see how the polling goes. There’s still plenty of time to intervene directly, if it should prove necessary.”
Hardcastle glared at him. “That’s not good enough, sorcerer.” He looked across at Roxanne. “According to my sources, Longarm is planning an attack on Adamant tonight. I want you to use your inside contact to get into Adamant’s house. Stay hidden and wait for the attack, and then take advantage of the confusion to make sure Adamant dies. You’d better kill your contact as well. Is that clear?”
“Of course,” said Roxanne. “Sounds like fun.” She smiled at Hardcastle, and he had to look away. Few people could meet Roxanne’s smile without flinching. Even when she was on their side.
The banquet at Adamant’s mansion was a noisy affair. There were so many guests that even the main dining hall was barely sufficient to hold them all. The single great table had all but disappeared under huge servings of food and wines, and there wasn’t a spare place left for anyone. The huge candelabra and dozens of wall lamps filled the hall with a blaze of light, and the guests filled the air with a roar of chatter. It was a victory celebration, in every way that mattered. No one had any doubts as to the election’s outcome. This night would be Reform’s night. They could tell. They could feel it on the air and in the streets.
Adamant sat in the seat of honour, of course, with Dannielle on one side and Medley on the other. Dannielle was busy feeding Adamant by hand with something covered in a sticky sauce, half of which seemed to be ending up on his face, to their mutual amusement. Medley was busy sampling several wines to see which was the tastiest. The two warriors, Bearclaw and Kincaid, sat side by side discussing old battles, and using the table cutlery to mark troop positions. The rest of the guests were Adamant’s followers and party faithfuls, being rewarded for their services to Adamant’s campaign. Servants came and went, bringing yet more courses and side dishes. Adamant’s food taster sat quietly to one side, nibbling at a light salad, having given up trying to keep up with everyone else. A dozen or so dogs wandered round the hall, enjoying all the noise and attention, and feeding on bones and scraps thrown to them by indulgent guests.
Hawk and Fisher were there too, but they weren’t part of the banquet. They were on duty. They’d get their dinner later in the kitchens. If they were lucky. Reform only went so far, after all. Hawk was fatalistic about such things and, if anything, preferred to have his attention free to watch for threats, but Fisher was simmering with barely repressed bile. Hawk kept a watchful eye on her. She tended to take such things personally. At the moment she was scowling dubiously at a chicken leg she’d snatched from under the nose of a resentful hound. The animal was about to challenge her for it, but one glare from Fisher was enough to change his mind.
“You’re not really going to eat that, are you?” said Hawk.
“Damn right I am,” said Fisher. “I’m hungry.” She gnawed industriously at the leg for a while, and then gestured with it at the banquet table. “Look at them all, stuffing their faces. There’s not one of them who’s worked half as hard as we have today. I hope they all get wind.”
“Don’t take it so hard,” said Hawk. “I’m sure Adamant would have invited us to table if he could, but it would do his image no good at all, and he knows it. The Cause is great for political reform, but it’s got a long way to go before it can start meddling with the social structure.”
“I’d like to meddle with his structure,” muttered Fisher. “Preferably with a large mallet.”
“It’s not as if we’ve been
singled out,” said Hawk reasonably. “Adamant’s got a good twenty to thirty mercenaries and men-at-arms scattered round this house standing guard, and none of them were invited either.”
“We’re different,” said Fisher.
“Maybe,” said Hawk. “Hello! Where’s Medley going?”
Hawk and Fisher watched interestedly as Medley made his excuses to Adamant, and left the table. He seemed to be in something of a hurry, and by the time he got to the main door he was practically running.
“The fish must be off,” said Hawk.
Fisher looked at him fondly. “You have no romance in your soul, Hawk. Now he’s no longer needed here, he’s probably off to see his mysterious girlfriend. I wonder if we’ll get to meet her?”
“I doubt it. Hello! Now Dannielle’s leaving as well.”
Hawk and Fisher watched again as Dannielle made her excuses to Adamant and left the table.
“Maybe the fish is off,” said Fisher.
“I don’t know,” said Hawk thoughtfully. “She’s been up and down all day. Maybe her illness is catching up with her.”
“Or she’s gone after Medley to try and sneak a look at his girlfriend.”
“Either that, or someone’s slipped poison in their food ...”
They looked at each other.
“No,” said Hawk finally. “They haven’t eaten anything the others haven’t, and anyway, Mortice is keeping a close watch on the banquet.”
Fisher shrugged. “No doubt we’ll find out what’s happening eventually. We usually do.”
“That was before we got involved in politics.”
“True.”
They watched everyone else eating for a while. Hawk’s stomach rumbled.
“Something’s wrong,” said Fisher suddenly.
Hawk looked at her. “How do you mean?”
“We’re supposed to get regular security updates from Adamant’s people, but no one’s been by here in almost half an hour.”
“That’s right,” said Hawk. He frowned, and bit his lip thoughtfully. “You wander over and take up a position by Adamant. I’ll take a quick look out the door and see if anyone’s about. It’s always possible Adamant’s people are just getting slack now the worst is over, but ...”
“Yeah,” said Fisher. “But.”
She headed casually in Adamant’s direction, while Hawk made unhurriedly for the main door. No point in upsetting the guests if they didn’t have to. The banquet hall was set right in the centre of the mansion and had just the two doors. The far door led straight to the kitchens; a servants’ route. Hawk had checked it out earlier. It was too narrow and twisting to move an attack force through. The main door led out onto a wide corridor that ran pretty much the length of the house, with only a couple of bends. Hawk scowled. He didn’t like the direction his thoughts were taking. Any attack force would have to get past all of Adamant’s men and Mortice’s protective wards. He’d have been bound to hear something. Unless the attack force was very, very good. Hawk stopped before the main door and listened. He couldn’t hear a thing over the racket the dinner guests were making. Why the hell had Medley and Dannielle chosen this particular time to disappear? He reached out a hand to the doorknob, and then stopped as the doorknob began to turn slowly on its own. Hawk backed away.
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 recognise 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 colour, 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?”
Swords of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk & Fisher Page 35