"Commander, there's something I need to discuss with you."
"Yes," said Glen. "We have to talk about Captain Fisher. I've been hearing stories about her for some time now. As long as they were just stories I could afford to ignore them. You and Fisher were a good team; you got results. But I can't ignore this, Hawk. She's betrayed the security of the Peace Talks, and gone on the run. We have no idea where she is, or what she might be planning. And now there's mounting evidence that she's been working for Morgan all along."
"I don't believe that," said Hawk. "I don't believe any of it."
Glen looked at him steadily. "She's gone rogue. Hawk. I have issued a warrant for her arrest. There's a reward of five thousand ducats for anyone who brings her in, dead or alive."
For a moment Hawk just looked back at him, his scarred face cold and impassive, saying nothing. "I'll find her," he said finally. "I'll find her, and bring her in. Call off your dogs, Commander."
"I can't do that, Hawk. It's out of my hands now. And I can't let you go, either. You did a good job in recovering the super-chacal, but you upset a great many prominent people in the process. If you'd brought Morgan in alive, no one would have said anything, but as it is…"
"That was my fault, Commander," said Burns, but Hawk and Glen didn't even look at him.
"Now that Fisher's gone rogue," said Glen, "you've become suspect too, Hawk, through your relationship with her. Too many things have gone wrong around you just lately. No one trusts you anymore. I have a warrant for your arrest too, Hawk. I'm sorry."
"You've got to let me find Fisher," said Hawk. "Please. Let me bring her in, and we'll prove our innocence."
"I'm sorry," said Glen. "I have my orders. Give me your axe, please."
Hawk drew his axe, and the room suddenly became very tense. He hefted the weapon in his hand a moment, and then put it down on Glen's desk. The Commander relaxed a little, and Hawk hit him with a vicious left uppercut. Glen flew backwards out of his chair, slammed into the wall behind his desk, and slid unconscious to the floor. Burns opened his mouth to yell something, his hand already reaching for his sword. Hawk spun round, grabbed up his axe, and hit Bums across the head with the flat of the blade while Burns was still drawing his sword. He fell to the floor and lay there motionless, groaning quietly.
Hawk would have liked to tie them both up, but a quick glance around showed him nothing he could use as a rope, and he didn't have the time, anyway. He hauled them both into Glen's private washroom, and locked the door on them. He took a last quick look round, and then left Glen's office and made his way casually through Headquarters to the main entrance. He smiled and nodded to people he passed, and they smiled and muttered automatically in return. Hawk kept his face calm, but his thoughts were in a turmoil. He had to find Isobel before anyone else did. He couldn't trust anyone else with the job.
Isobel… I'm coming for you.
Chapter Nine
Under The Masks
Fisher moved quietly through the back streets, trudging doggedly through the snow and slush, with her head bowed. The tattered grey cloak didn't do much to keep out the cold, but with the hood pulled well forward there was no way anyone was going to recognize her. After all, who would expect the bold and dashing Captain Fisher to be skulking through the worst part of town in rags she wouldn't normally have used to polish her boots? She seethed inwardly at the indignity, but kept her outer demeanor carefully calm and unobtrusive. Her disguise would only hold up as long as no one challenged it, and there were a hell of a lot of people who'd be only too happy to turn her in for whatever reward was currently on her head.
Fisher had no doubt there was a reward. The Powers That Be needed a scapegoat, and she was tailor-made for the role. She could plead her innocence till she was blue in the face, but no one would give a damn. She had to be found guilty so that the Outremer delegates would be reassured and the Peace Talks could go on. They'd told her right from the beginning that she was expendable. Fisher grinned fiercely. That was their opinion. If they wanted her to be a rogue, she'd be one. And anyone who got in her way was going to regret it.
She slowed her pace slightly as two ragged figures appeared out of a dark alley mouth and moved casually towards her. She caught brief glimpses of the knives half hidden under their cloaks, and turned to face them. She'd obviously overdone the unthreatening aspect of her disguise and made herself look an easy target. Fisher scowled. She couldn't afford to fight them; at best it would draw attention to her, particularly when she won, and at worst it might actually give away who she was. But she couldn't hope for any help, either. Not in the Northside. She swore under her breath, and let her hand move to her sword under cover of the cloak. There was never a bloody Constable around when you needed one.
The two bravos moved to block her path, and she came to a halt. She pushed back her cloak to reveal the sword at her side, and lifted her head to give them her best glare. She'd put a lot of work and practice into that glare, and it had always served her well in the past. It suggested she was one hundred percent crazy, barely under control, and violent with it. The two bravos took in the glare and the sword, looked at each other, and then made their knives disappear, and moved casually off in another direction, as though they'd intended to go that way all along. Fisher let her cloak fall back to cover the sword, pulled her hood even lower over her face, and continued on her way, trying not to look too much in a hurry.
She had to think of somewhere to go, somewhere she could hole up for a while till she could figure some way to get out of the city. She couldn't go home; it was the first place they'd think of, and was probably crawling with Guards by now, ransacking every room in search of evidence that wasn't there. A slow, sullen anger burned in her, at the thought of strangers trampling through her house, but she knew there was no point in brooding over it. Or the treasured possessions she'd have to leave behind when she finally found a way out of the city.
She had to find somewhere she could stop and think, somewhere safe. And there were all sorts of things she'd have to get her hands on, things she'd need just to survive out in the wilds of the Low Kingdoms, in the dead of winter. Starting with a decent fur cloak. The cold cut right through the thin grey one she had now. And she'd need a horse and provisions… and a dozen other things, none of which she had the money to buy. Her money was back at the house. What there was of it.
Her pace slowed as her thoughts churned furiously. She wasn't used to having to plan ahead. That had always been Hawk's responsibility. Hawk. The name cut at her briefly, like a razor drawn against unsuspecting skin. She wanted to go to him so badly, but she didn't dare. Everything she'd heard since she hit the streets suggested that Hawk had gone berserk, fighting and killing anyone who got between him and Morgan. Something bad must have happened, something so awful he no longer cared what happened to him as long as he got to Morgan. Her first impulse had been to find him and fight at his side, but she couldn't do that. By now there had to be a small army of Guards on her tail, and she'd be leading them straight to Hawk. And if he really had gone berserk, he'd die rather than be stopped.
She couldn't let that happen.
There must be somewhere she could go, somewhere they wouldn't think of looking. She trudged on, head down, not looking where she was going, as her mind floundered from one possibility to another before finally, reluctantly, settling on one. The Tolling Bell was a rancid little tavern, tucked away at the back of nowhere. The kind of place where they sold illegally strong drinks and the bartender had little conversation and even less of a memory for faces. Fisher had used the place before, when she needed to get away by herself for a while. When she'd had a row with Hawk, or just needed to be alone with her thoughts. She'd always taken pains to disguise her identity, so no one could find her till she was ready to be found. The Tolling Bell… Yes… she could be there in half an hour.
Her head snapped up, suddenly alert as she heard tramping feet heading towards her. Six Guard Constables were moving purposef
ully in her direction. She quickly dropped her head again, and hunched over under her cloak to make herself look smaller. Her hand moved unobtrusively to the sword at her side. Six-to-one odds, and no one to watch her back. Bad odds, but she'd faced worse in her time. She glanced cautiously around for possible escape routes, and only then realized the Guards weren't actually looking at her. Hope flared in her again, and she shrank back against the wall as the Guards tramped past, doing her best to look insignificant and harmless. The Constables hardly glanced at her as they passed, and continued on their way. Fisher waited where she was, listening to the sound of the footsteps dying gradually away, and then moved slowly on, careful not to look behind her. Her back crawled in anticipation of a sudden sword thrust, but it never came. She finally allowed herself to glance back over her shoulder, and found the Constables were almost out of sight at the end of the street. Her breath began to come a little more easily, and she increased her pace. She'd be safe at The Tolling Bell. For a while. She could sit down, and rest, and think. And just maybe she'd be able to see a way out of this mess.
Hawk strode angrily down the main street, pulling his ratty brown cloak tightly about him. The cold cut through the ragged cloth as though it weren't there, but at least the hood concealed his face, as long as he remembered to keep his head bowed. Someone had to have found Glen and Burns by now, which meant word would soon be circulating on the streets that Hawk was fair game for anyone who felt like going after him. And with the kind of reward the Guard would be offering, there'd be no shortage of volunteers. Most of the usual bounty hunters would have more sense than to go after Captain Hawk, but there were always some stupid enough to take any risk, for a chance at the big money. And if enough of them got together, they might just manage it.
Hawk scowled, and peered unobtrusively about him. They were after Fisher too. He had to find her, before anyone else did. Find her, and find out what had happened. Why she'd betrayed Haven, and the Guard. And him. There had to be a reason, a good reason. He believed that implicitly, because to think anything else would drive him insane. He trusted Isobel, but all the evidence pointed to her guilt. As a Guard, he'd learned to rely on the evidence before anything else, and never to trust his instincts or his feelings until he had hard evidence to back them up. But this was different. This was Isobel. He had to find her and hear her explanation. And then he'd know what to do next.
Though really, deep down, he'd already decided what he was going to do. Whatever she said, whatever she'd done; it didn't matter. Once before he'd given up everything he had for her sake, and he wouldn't hesitate to do it again if he had to. There were other cities, other countries they could go to, and it wouldn't be the first time they'd had to change their names.
But he had to find her soon, before the Guard did. She wouldn't go to any of her usual haunts; too many other people knew about them. There had to be some place she'd regard as safe, some place she'd think no one knew about but her… The Tolling Bell. That had to be it. Isobel often disappeared there when she lost an argument or was feeling broody.
A shout went up not too far away, as a sudden gust of wind caught the edge of his hood and flipped it back, revealing his face. Hawk pulled the hood back into position, but the damage had been done. Two Guard Constables were running towards him, swords drawn. Hawk looked quickly around for an escape route, but they were all blocked by curious onlookers eager for some free entertainment. Hawk cursed unemotionally, straightened up, and drew his axe. He shrugged his cloak back out of the way and stamped the snow flat to give him better footing. He hefted his axe thoughtfully, and waited for the two Constables to come within range. He didn't want to kill them if he could avoid it. They were just doing their job. As far as they were concerned, he was a rogue and a traitor. But he couldn't let them stop him. Isobel's life might depend on his getting to her before anyone else did.
The Constables slowed their pace as they drew near Hawk, and moved apart to take him from two directions at once. Hawk picked the nearest one, and launched himself forward. He ducked under the Constable's wild swing, the sword blade tugging briefly at the top of his hood, and slammed his shoulder into the Constable's gut. The man folded in half and fell away, gasping for air. Hawk clubbed him forcefully across the back of the head with the butt of his axe, and then spun round just in time to block an attack from the other Constable.
The two of them stamped back and forth, feinting and withdrawing, each trying to make the other commit himself. Hawk faked a stumble, and went down on one knee. The Constable immediately fell back a step, too old a hand to be taken in by such an obvious stunt, and Hawk hit him in the face with the handful of snow he'd palmed when he went down. The Constable staggered back, lashing out blindly with his sword while he tried to claw the snow out of his eyes with his free hand. Hawk timed it carefully, stepped in during a brief moment when the Constable left himself open, and kicked him in the groin.
The Constable went down without a sound, and Hawk clubbed him unconscious. He nodded once, satisfied, and then froze as a shout went up again, some way behind him. He looked round and saw six more Constables charging down the street towards him. Hawk turned on his heel and ran for the nearest alleyway. If he had to take on six-to-one odds with no one to guard his back, someone was definitely going to end up dead. Quite possibly him. The people in the alley mouth scattered as he bore down on them axe in hand, and he plunged past them into the concealing gloom of the narrow passageway. His best bet was to try and lose his pursuers in the maze of back streets and cul de sacs. He knew this area, and the odds were they didn't. He just hoped he wouldn't have to outrun them. He was already short of breath. It had been a long day, and the end was nowhere in sight.
He scowled to himself as he ran. Running from a mere six-to-one odds. If this got out, he'd never live it down.
Captain ap Owen watched with interest as Commander Glen sat glowering behind his desk, painfully growling orders to a steady stream of visitors. He kept an ice pack pressed against his face. A quite spectacular bruise was spreading across his jaw and peeking round the edges of the ice pack. People came and went in sudden rushes and flurries, darting into the office to deliver updated reports and possible sightings, and then quickly disappearing before Glen could turn his glare on them. But for all their bustle and effort, it was clear they were no nearer locating Hawk or Fisher.
"They can't just have vanished," protested Captain Burns, pacing back and forth, and occasionally raising a hand to feel gingerly at the back of his head. He claimed to have a hell of a bump there, but no one else had seen it. Ap Owen thought it was probably more hurt pride than anything else. Burns glared at ap Owen as though it were all his fault, and ap Owen quickly looked away, somehow keeping a smile off his face. It had to be said, he'd never much cared for Burns. Too interested in looking good, that one. Probably had a great career ahead of him—in administration.
"We'll find them," said Glen slowly, trying hard not to move his mouth when he spoke. "We've got their house staked out, and all their usual haunts. The city Gates have been sealed, so they can't get out of Haven. All we have to do now is run them to ground…" He broke off abruptly as a wave of pain hit him, but his eyes were still hot and furious.
"We're leaning on all the usual informants," said ap Owen. "Most of them are falling over themselves at a chance to do Hawk and Fisher some dirt. Those two have made an awful lot of enemies during their short time in Haven."
Burns sniffed. "No honor among thieves. Or traitors."
Ap Owen raised an eyebrow. "That's hardly fair, Burns. Up until now, Hawk and Fisher have always had an exemplary reputation."
"You have got to be joking. Everyone knows about the brutal tactics they use. They don't care who they hurt or intimidate, and they kill anyone who gets in their way. I've even heard it said they plant evidence and manufacture confessions, just to make their arrest rate look good. They're no better than thugs in uniform."
"They always upheld the law."
"
When it suited them," said Burns. "Anybody can be bought, for the right price."
Ap Owen shrugged unhappily, and looked across at Glen. "With respect, Commander, I think our quarry have more than enough sense to keep clear of all their usual haunts. Is there anywhere they might go, that they might think we don't know about? You were with Hawk all day, Burns. Did he mention any place to you?"
"If he had, I'd have said so!" snapped Burns. "Why aren't you out there looking for them? You've got twenty men under you. Why aren't you out combing the streets?"
"What's the point?" said ap Owen mildly. "We've got half an army out there as it is; adding my people to that pack would only give them someone else to trip over. Besides, I don't want my men wandering aimlessly about in the cold, or they won't be worth spit when we finally get a chance to arrest Hawk or Fisher. Or both. In fact, the more I think about it, the more sure I am they'll have joined up by now. They always were very devoted to each other."
"I don't know," said Glen indistinctly, from behind his ice pack. "Hawk seemed honestly shocked when he heard the news about Fisher's treachery. I think there's a real chance he may not be involved in the treason himself."
"If he wasn't a traitor before, he is now," said Burns. "He's defied lawful orders and assaulted a superior officer. And right now you can bet he's doing his utmost to help the traitor Fisher to escape justice. Even though her actions may have helped to start a war."
"Calm down," said ap Owen. "It isn't that bad. Yet. The delegates are still talking to each other, even if it's not on an official basis at the moment. There's still hope. In the meantime, guilty or not, I think we can assume Hawk is doing his best to locate Fisher. And since he's much more likely to figure out where she's hidden herself than we are, I think we can also assume that when we finally catch up with them, they're going to be together. And together, they're the most formidable fighting machine Haven has ever seen. I'm not sure I can take them, even with twenty men under me. Which is why, Captain Burns, my men are staying here, warm and rested, until they're needed. I don't want them worn out from chasing round Haven after every unconfirmed sighting."
Guard Against Dishonor Page 16
