Buchan lead her through the luxurious high-rent district of the Street of Gods, where the magnificent buildings struggled to outdo each other in splendour and ostentatious opulence. He passed them all by without looking, until he came to the largest and most ornate structure yet. It was as broad as any three churches, and an amazing four storeys high. Fisher didn’t even want to think how much money the owners must be paying for spells to protect the place from the violent spring gales. Massive bay windows jutted out onto the Street, and there was gold and silver scrollwork in abundance. And enough intricately carved stonework to have kept entire families of stonemasons busy for generations. There was one door, centrally placed: a huge slab of polished oak, bearing a large brass knocker. Engraved into the stone above the door was a single ornate symbol, known and reviled throughout the Low Kingdoms. Buchan knocked twice, and waited. Even from across the Street, Fisher could feel his impatience. The door opened, and Buchan quickly disappeared inside. Fisher bit her lower lip thoughtfully as the door swung shut behind him. In a way, she was almost disappointed. You didn’t expect a man like the legendary Charles Buchan to go sneaking off to the notorious Sisters of Joy.
Fisher didn’t approve of the Sisters. They were dangerous. Like a rose with poisoned thorns. In her time as a Guard, Fisher had seen men entrapped by the Sisters and betrayed by their own weaknesses. They lost all strength and dignity, giving up on everything except the object of their obsession. They threw away their jobs, alienated their families, and sold everything they could lay their hands on to make donations to the Sisters. By the time the Sister concerned had sucked them dry, it must almost have come as a relief.
Fisher folded her arms and leaned back against a church wall, staring thoughtfully at the house of the Sisters of Joy. What the hell was Buchan doing here? It wasn’t at all in character for the great romantic she’d heard so much about. Of course, she if anyone had good reason to know that people weren’t always what their storied personas made them out to be. But still ... What if there was something else going on here? Something ... deeper. Fisher pushed herself away from the wall and unfolded her arms. Whatever Buchan was mixed up in, she wanted to know about it. There were too many secrets in this case. She checked her sword moved freely in its scabbard, marched over to the Sisters’ door, and knocked loudly. There as a long pause. Passersby looked at Fisher in various ways. Fisher glared at them all impartially.
The door finally opened a few inches. Fisher put her shoulder to the door and shoved it all the way open. She stalked in past the astonished Sister she’d sent flying backwards, and looked around her. There was an understated elegance to the hallway, with delicately fashioned furniture and a deep pile carpet. An ornate glass-and-crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and the air was scented with rose petals. It was actually quite impressive in a quiet way. Fisher had been in country mansions that looked less refined. Until you took in the obscene murals on the walls. Fisher had never seen anything like them. She felt a blush rising to her cheeks, and looked quickly away. The Sister had recovered her composure, and took the opportunity to bow respectfully to Fisher. She was very lovely, in an open, healthy way that owed nothing to makeup, with curly russet hair and a heart-shaped face. Her long flowing gown was spotlessly white and hugged her magnificent figure in all the right places. She couldn’t have been more than nineteen or twenty. Fisher felt decidedly battered and dowdy in comparison, which didn’t do a thing for her temper.
The Sister bowed again, showing off her cleavage, and smiled widely at Fisher. “Welcome to the house of pleasure and contentment, Captain. In what way may we be of service to you?”
“I’m looking for Buchan,” said Fisher flatly. “Where is he?”
The Sister shook her head, still smiling. “We guarantee complete anonymity to all who come here, Captain. Within this house our patrons are free to adopt whatever names or characters they wish. We ask no questions, demand no answers. We offer comfort and security to all who come here, and we protect their privacy. Whatever your business is with the man you seek, it will have to wait until he has left these walls.”
Fisher scowled. She knew a set speech when she heard one. “All right, we’ll do it the hard way.” She reached out, took a handful of the Sister’s gown, and pulled her close so that their faces were only inches apart. “I’m Captain Fisher of the city Guard. I’m here on official business, and I want to see Charles Buchan right now. And if you or anyone else gets in my way, I am going to bounce them off the nearest wall till their ears bleed. Got it?”
The Sister never flinched once. She met Fisher’s gaze calmly, and when she spoke, her voice was mild and even and unafraid. “Kill me, if you wish. My Sisters will avenge me. The secrets of this house are not mine to tell, and I will die rather than divulge them. No Sister here will tell you anything, Captain. We will not betray those who trust us.”
Fisher swore briefly, and let the Sister go. She felt obscurely ashamed, as though she’d been caught bullying a child. She had no doubt the Sister meant what she said. Her voice and face held the unquestioning certainty of the fanatic. Probably brainwashed. Or under a geas’ compulsion. Or both. She sighed, and stepped away from the Sister. When in doubt, be direct.
“Buchan!” she roared at the top of her voice. “Charles Buchan! I know you’re here. Either get the hell down here and talk to me or I’ll go out into the Street and tell everyone I see that you’re in here. What do you think would happen to your reputation as a member of the God Squad if word got out that you were a sister-lover? Buchan! Talk to me!”
There was a long pause, and then a second Sister appeared from a concealed doorway. She wore the same white gown and was equally lovely, in a cool aristocratic way, but she was nearer Fisher’s age, and though she smiled and bowed respectfully, her eyes were cold and hard. “There’s no need for threats, Captain. The person you seek has agreed to see you. Even though he was assured he didn’t have to. And Captain; if he hadn’t agreed, you would not have got any further in this house. We have spells to ensure our privacy. Very unpleasant spells. Now, if you’ll come with me, please...”
Fisher gave the Sister one of her best scowls, just to make it clear who was really in charge here, and then followed her through a series of stairs and corridors to a plain anonymous door on the second floor. The Sister bowed deeply and left her there. Fisher knocked once, and walked straight in without waiting for an answer. The room was luxurious without being overbearing, and the furnishings had the understated elegance of old money. Fisher wondered fleetingly just how old the Sisters’ establishment was, and then fixed her attention on Charles Buchan. He was standing stiffly beside a chair on which sat a beautiful young woman, a pale willowy blonde barely into her twenties. Is that it? thought Fisher. All this secrecy, just because he’s fallen for a girl young enough to be his daughter? And yet... there was something wrong with the scene. She turned and pushed the door shut, to give herself a moment to think. Buchan’s attitude; that was what was wrong. As soon as she turned back, she recognised what it was. Buchan didn’t look ashamed, or indignant, or obsessed with the girl; he looked protective toward her, as though all that mattered was protecting the Sister from Fisher. If he cared at all about being found out, he was doing an excellent job of hiding it. He met Fisher’s gaze unwaveringly.
“Captain Fisher. I should have known you’d find us out, if anyone would.”
Fisher shrugged. “I don’t like secrets. I take it personally when people hide things from me. Particularly when it affects a case we’re supposed to be working on together.”
“There’s no connection between this and the God murders, Captain. You have my word on that. Annette, I’d like you to meet Captain Fisher, one of my colleagues on the God Squad. Captain, this is Annette. My daughter.”
Annette smiled at Fisher, who just stood there, completely thrown.
“Why don’t we all sit down?” Buchan suggested. “This is going to take some explaining.”
“Yes,�
� said Fisher. “I think it is.”
Buchan pulled up a chair beside Annette, and Fisher sat on a chair facing them. Buchan took a deep breath and plunged straight in.
“Annette’s mother was a young Lady from a rival Family. The heads of our Families weren’t talking to each other, and there had even been a few duels. Nothing unusual, but it was all very tense, and the worst possible time for us to meet and fall in love. But we were young and foolish, and nothing mattered to us except each other. We were going to run away and be married secretly. We even had some naive hopes that our marriage would bring the Families back together again.
“But she became pregnant. Her Family found out, and when she wouldn’t name the father, they sent her out of the city to stay with relatives until it was all over. She died giving birth to Annette. Her Family let everyone assume the child was dead, too. They weren’t interested in raising some bastard half-breed mongrel, so they gave her to the city orphanage.
“I went a little crazy after I heard my love was dead. I’d do anything, for a laugh or a thrill or just to fill my time. I chased women endlessly, trying to find someone who could replace the one I’d lost. Finally it all got out of hand, and I ended up on the God Squad. It was interesting work, and it passed the time. And then I came here, on business for the Squad, and found Annette. She looked just like her mother. I investigated her background, and worked out who she was. I thought about it for a long time, and then came here and introduced myself.
“She’s very precious to me. For all my affairs, Annette is my only child. We sit and talk for hours.
“But somehow word of my visits to this house got out, at least in High Society, and I couldn’t explain why I came here. Someday Annette may choose to leave this place and take her rightful place in High Society. The Quality must never know of her time here. They can be very old-fashioned about some things. So, I decided to let people think what they liked about my visits to the Sisters of Joy. My friends and family disowned me, and the Quality turned their back on me. But Annette’s secret was safe. The rest you know.”
Fisher shook her head slowly. “That is so crazy a story it has to be true.”
“Will you keep our secret?” said Buchan. “For her sake, if not for mine.”
“Sure,” said Fisher. “Why not? Hawk will have to know, but I don’t see any reason why it should go any further.” She looked at Annette. “Are you happy here, lass? Really happy? If they’ve got any kind of hold over you, I can take care of it. No one’s stupid enough to upset me and Hawk. If you want to leave, just say the word. I’ll escort you out of here right now.”
Annette smiled and shook her head. “Thank you, Captain, but I’m quite happy here. As I keep telling my father, I wasn’t brainwashed into joining the Sisters of Joy, there isn’t any geas keeping me here, and if I want to leave I’m perfectly free to do so at any time. The Sisterhood is a vocation, and one I believe in. How many other religions do you know that are simply dedicated to making people happy? Perhaps someday, I’ll feel differently, but even then I don’t think I’ll be joining High Society. From what I’ve heard of the Quality, I doubt we’d get on. In the meantime, my father and I have each other. No one ever told me who my father was. I never dreamed it would turn out to be the legendary Charles Buchan.”
Buchan stirred uncomfortably. “You don’t want to pay too much attention to those stories, Annette.”
“Why? Aren’t they true?”
“Well, yes. Most of them. But I’m a reformed character, now I’ve found you.”
Annette raised an eyebrow. “Reformed? You?”
Buchan grinned. “Partly reformed.”
Father and daughter laughed quietly together. Fisher got to her feet, feeling decidedly superfluous, and wished them both goodbye. They favoured her with a quick smile and a wave. Fisher smiled quickly in return and left them to each other.
The Dead Dog Tavern was a seedy little dive in the Northside, not that far from the Street of Gods. The air was full of smoke, the sawdust on the floor hadn’t been changed in weeks, and the only reason the drinks weren’t watered was that the patrons would have lynched the innkeeper if he’d tried it. Hawk and Fisher had used the Dead Dog as a meeting place before. It was the kind of place where everyone minded his own business, and expected everyone else to do likewise. Or else. Having Hawk and Fisher around didn’t keep people away; the other patrons just kept their voices down and one eye always on the nearest exit. Hawk and Fisher liked the Dead Dog because it was quiet and convenient and nobody bothered them. There weren’t many places like that in the Northside.
Hawk glared into his ale, gave a frustrated sigh, and slouched down in his chair. “Dammit, we’re getting nowhere with this case, Isobel. No matter which way we turn, we end up going round and round in bloody circles.”
Fisher took a healthy drink from her mug, and shook her head. “Don’t give up now, Hawk. We’re getting close; I can feel it. Look; we know how the God murders took place. Somebody used the Exorcist Stone. That tells us who; it has to be one of the God Squad. Did you notice that when we talked about Bode’s death, and the lack of magic at his house, none of them even mentioned the Exorcist Stone as a possible murder weapon? Significant, that. All we have to do is find a way to narrow it down from three suspects to one.”
“It’s not that simple, Isobel, and you know it. First, the Council put a geas on all of them, specifically to prevent them misusing the Stone. If the compulsion spell had somehow been broken, the Council would have known immediately. And second, we still don’t have a motive for the murders. What do any of them have to gain by killing Gods?”
They sat in silence for a while, nursing their ale.
“Let’s go over everybody again, one at a time,” said Hawk. “The one thing the three of them have in common is that they all have secrets. Buchan has a daughter who’s a Sister of Joy. Tomb has broken God Squad rules by worshipping Le Bel Inconnu. And Rowan is dying of cancer and doesn’t want the others to know about it. Secrets often make for good motives. People will do desperate things to keep a secret hidden.
“So, suppose the dead Gods knew about Buchan’s daughter. Priests do talk to each other, even when they’re supposed to be enemies. They’re in the same line of business, after all. Word could have got around. What if the murdered Gods had tried to use that knowledge, to put pressure on Buchan to look the other way on occasion? It could be a very handy thing for a Being to have a member of the God Squad in his pocket.”
“It’s a nice idea,” said Fisher. “But I don’t think it’s Buchan. In order to come and go without being seen by the Gods’ followers, the killer must have had access to some kind of sorcery, and Buchan doesn’t have any. He had to use an ordinary disguise when he went to visit his daughter, remember? And besides, if he’d had any magic, he’d have used it against that creature at the Hellfire Club, wouldn’t he?”
“Not necessarily,” said Hawk. “He could be trying to put us off the scent by not using magic when we’re around. He might have known you were following him.”
Fisher sniffed. “Firstly, if he’d known I was following him, he wouldn’t have led me to the Sisters and revealed his secret. Secondly, I don’t really think Buchan’s that clever, to be honest. He’s famed for many things, but subtlety’s not one of them. I think we’d be better off taking a hard look at Tomb. Now, he has a motive that makes sense. If the Council know about his private God, they’d throw him off the Squad, and Tomb’s put a lot of time and effort into making the God Squad a force to be reckoned with. He might see a threat to himself as a threat to the Squad, and act accordingly. So, if another Being had found out, and threatened to tell on him ... Hey, wait a minute, I’ve just had another thought. What if the God killings were some kind of sacrifice to Tomb’s God? To make it stronger, more powerful?”
“Could be,” said Hawk, thinking about it. “Certainly Tomb’s got enough sorcery to get in and out of the churches undetected.”
“And he certainly
knew his way around when he showed us the murder sites earlier on.”
“No. We can’t single him out on that. According to the informer Lacey, all of the God Squad had visited the dead Beings previously.”
“All right,” said Fisher. “Forget that. But the rest fits.”
“It still doesn’t explain how he broke the geas without the Council circle of sorcerers knowing. That’s supposed to be impossible.”
Fisher nodded reluctantly. “All right. Let’s leave Tomb for a moment and look at Rowan. She’s got enough sorcery to move unseen, and she’s certainly got no love for the Gods.”
“Sure,” said Hawk. “But what’s her motive?”
“Revenge,” said Fisher. “She’s dying, and she wants to kill as many of the Gods she despises as she can before she dies.”
“That’s pushing it a bit, isn’t it?”
Fisher shrugged. The two of them drank more ale, their scowls deepening as they struggled with the problem. People around them took in the danger signs, quietly finished their drinks, and made for the exits.
“I don’t know,” said Hawk. “Whatever motives the God Squad have, I keep coming back to the geas. Either one of them’s found a way round the compulsion spell, which is supposed to be impossible, or it has to be somebody else. Maybe it’s really the sorcerer Bode after all, using the Dark Men as weapons. Remember, two of the Gods had been torn apart, which would seem to indicate that the killer had great physical strength.”
“You may have something there,” said Fisher slowly. “But have you ever noticed that the Dark Men never attack us except when the God Squad aren’t around?”
They looked at each other for a moment. “Are you suggesting one of the God Squad is the controlling mind behind the Dark Men?” said Hawk finally.
Swords of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk & Fisher Page 57