Swords of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk & Fisher

by Simon R. Green

  “The spell is set,” said Gaunt. “It cannot be broken. So if there is a murderer in my house, we’re trapped in here with him until first light. I do hope you know what you’re doing, Captain Hawk.”

  “There is a murderer,” said Hawk calmly, “and I’ll get him. Now let’s go back upstairs. I want you to take another look at Blackstone’s body.”

  Gaunt nodded briefly, and Hawk sheathed his axe and led the way back down the hall to the stairs.. The guests had all assembled in the parlour, but Hawk didn’t stop to talk to them. They could wait a while. He and Gaunt made their way up the stairs and onto the landing. Gaunt stopped before the door to Blackstone’s room and looked hard at Hawk. He took in the scarred wood and shattered lock, and shrugged. Gaunt sighed audibly, and looked away. Hawk pushed open the door and walked in, followed by Gaunt.

  Fisher looked up sharply, and then put away her sword as she saw who it was. Hawk raised an eyebrow.

  “Any problems while I was gone?”

  “Not really,” said Fisher, “I had to throw Lord Hightower out. He wanted to examine the body.”

  “You threw him out?” said Gaunt.

  “Of course,” said Hawk. “We’re in charge at the scene of a crime. Always. That’s Haven law. On such occasions, anyone refusing to obey a Guard’s lawful orders, or failing to answer his questions, is liable to a heavy fine or a stay in prison.”

  “That sounded suspiciously like a threat,” said Gaunt.

  “Just trying to clarify the situation, sir sorcerer,” said Hawk.

  Gaunt nodded stiffly. “Of course. I’m sorry, I’m a little over-sensitive at the moment; I’m rather upset. I suppose we all are. William’s death is a great loss to us all.”

  “Not to everyone, it isn’t,” said Fisher. “Somebody must have stood to gain by it. All we have to do is work out why, and then we should have our murderer. That’s the theory, anyway.”

  “I see,” said Gaunt.

  Hawk frowned slightly. He’d been watching the sorcerer closely, and Gaunt’s perpetual calmness was beginning to get on his nerves. The sorcerer might claim to be upset over his friend’s death, but if he was, he was doing a damn good job of hiding it. In fact, if William had been the close friend that Gaunt claimed him to be, the sorcerer was being suspiciously cool and collected. Then again, sorcerers weren’t exactly famous for behaving normally. If they were normal, they wouldn’t have become sorcerers in the first place.

  “Well,” said Gaunt. “I’m here. What do you want of me, Captain Hawk?”

  “I’m not really sure,” said Hawk. “I don’t know that much about sorcery. Is there anything your magic can do to help us detect or re-create the events leading up to William’s murder?”

  Gaunt frowned slightly. “I’m afraid not. My magic isn’t really suited to such work. You see, all sorcerers specialise in their own particular area of interest. Some deal with transformational magic, others with weather control, constructs and homunculi, spirits of the air and of the deep.... We all start out with the same basic grounding in the four elements, but after that ... the High Magic takes many forms.”

  “What is your specialisation?” asked Fisher patiently.

  “Alchemy,” said Gaunt. “Medicines, and the like.”

  “And poisons?” said Hawk.

  “On occasion.” Gaunt looked at Hawk sharply. “Did you have any reason for such a question?”

  “Possibly.” Hawk indicated the wineglass lying on the rug beside the bed. “It seems likely Blackstone was drinking from that glass just before he was attacked. Can you tell whether or not the wine had been poisoned?”

  “I’ll need a sample to test before I can be sure,” said Gaunt. “But I can tell you straightaway whether the wine contained anything harmful. That’s a simple spell.”

  He stretched out his left hand towards the wineglass and muttered something under his breath. A cold breeze seemed to blow suddenly through the room, and then was gone. Gaunt shook his head, and lowered his arm. “It’s perfectly harmless.” He knelt down beside the glass, dipped his finger into the remaining dregs, and then sucked his finger clean. “One of my better wines. I’ll run some checks in my laboratory, just to be sure there isn’t anything else in it, like a mild soporific, but I’m sure any spell would have detected even that. May I take the glass?”

  “I’m afraid not,” said Hawk. “That has to stay where it is for the moment. We may need it for evidence later on. But you’re welcome to take a sample of the wine itself; just don’t disturb the glass.”

  Gaunt hesitated. “Captain Hawk, there’s something else ... something unusual in this room.”

  “Where?” said Hawk quickly.

  “I don’t know, but it’s definitely something magical.” Gaunt frowned, and looked at Blackstone’s body. “Perhaps William was carrying a protective charm of some kind.”

  Hawk looked at Fisher. “Have you searched the body?”

  “Not yet. I was waiting for you to get back.”

  “All right; let’s take a look.”

  Hawk knelt down beside Blackstone’s body, took a deep breath to steady himself, and started with the jerkin pockets. He found two handkerchiefs, one badly in need of a wash, and a handful of loose change. He dumped both the handkerchiefs and the money beside the body, then tried the trouser pockets. Some more loose change, and a half dozen visiting cards. Hawk dumped them with his other finds. He thought a moment, and then carefully undid Blackstone’s high collar. He nodded slowly as the stiff cloth fell away to reveal a silver chain around the dead man’s neck. Using only his fingertips, Hawk pulled gently at the chain until the amulet it held came out from under the dead man’s shirt. It was a bone amulet, with a series of tiny runes etched deep into the bone. It was spotted with the dead man’s blood. Hawk held it up so that Gaunt could see it.

  “Do you know what this is, sir sorcerer?”

  “Yes. It’s an amulet of protection. The witch Visage made it for William. I tested it for her myself a few days ago, to make sure it would work. It was designed to protect the wearer against magical attacks. Any spell aimed at William would have ceased to work in his vicinity. A very useful defense.”

  “So curses and the like would have had no effect on him?” said Fisher slowly.

  “Not as long as he wore the amulet,” said Gaunt. “Anything of a magical nature would cease to be magical once it came anywhere near William. It would become magical again once it had moved beyond the amulet’s sphere of influence, of course.”

  “Of course,” said Hawk. He dropped the amulet onto Blackstone’s chest. “How big a sphere of influence would such an amulet have?”

  “No more than a few inches. It’s not a very powerful amulet, but then, it doesn’t need to be.”

  “So whatever else happens,” said Fisher, “we can safely assume that Councillor Blackstone wasn’t killed by magic?”

  “I don’t see how he could have been,” said Gaunt.

  “Thank you, sir sorcerer,” said Hawk. “You’ve been very helpful. Perhaps you would now be so kind as to join your guests in the parlour. My partner and I will join you shortly.”

  “Very well,” said Gaunt. He looked from Hawk to Fisher, and then settled on Hawk, his dark eyes steady and disconcertingly cold. “William was my friend. I don’t think I’ve ever known a man I admired more. I’ll do everything I can to help you find the man who killed him. I give you my word on it.”

  He nodded abruptly to them both, turned quickly on his heel, and left. Hawk sat down on the bed and stared moodily at the dead man. Fisher leaned lazily against the wall.

  “A very pretty exit speech,” she said calmly.

  “Very,” said Hawk. “I hope he doesn’t turn out to be the murderer. Trying to arrest a sorcerer as powerful as he’s supposed to be might prove rather difficult. Not to mention extremely dangerous. On the other hand, if he isn’t our killer, we’d better find the man responsible before Gaunt does. At least with us he’d live to stand trial.”


  “Yeah.” Fisher leaned her head back against the wall and frowned thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Do we assume that Gaunt is right, and Blackstone wasn’t killed by magic?”

  “It’s a simple choice,” said Hawk. “Either the amulet is what Gaunt said it is, or it isn’t. If it is, Blackstone couldn’t have been killed by magic. But if Gaunt was lying ...”

  “Unlikely. He must have known we’d check with Visage.”

  “Unless they’re working together.”

  “I hate conspiracies,” said Fisher.

  “Yeah,” said Hawk. “And I hate it when there’s magic involved; it complicates the hell out of a case.”

  “Have you found the key yet?” said Fisher suddenly, looking vaguely about her.

  “Damn. Knew I forgot something.” Hawk scowled down at the dead man. “It wasn’t in his pockets.” He got to his feet and looked around him.

  He and Fisher moved back and forth around the room, but couldn’t see anything that even looked like a key. Finally they both got down on their hands and knees and started combing through the thick rugs with their fingers.

  “Here!” said Fisher. She clambered awkwardly to her feet, holding up a key she’d found by the door. “It must have been left in the keyhole, and fell out when you smashed the lock.”

  “Assuming that is the right key,” said Hawk, getting to his feet.

  “Oh, come on, Hawk! What are the odds on there happening to be another key lying on the floor right by the door?”

  Hawk smiled and shrugged. “Sorry, lass. That’s the trouble with cases like this; you start doubting everything. We’ll show Gaunt the key, and he can tell us for sure.”

  “Why don’t we just try it in the lock?”

  “Because after what I did to that lock with my axe, no key would work it.”

  Fisher glanced at the smashed lock, and nodded reluctantly. “I see what you mean. We’ll ask Gaunt.” She slipped the key into her trouser pocket.

  “All right,” said Hawk, “let’s try and re-create what happened here. Blackstone was stabbed with a knife. The door was locked from the inside. So how did the killer get in and out?”

  “Teleport?” said Fisher.

  Hawk frowned. “It’s possible, I suppose, but a spell like that takes a lot of power and a hell of a lot of expertise. And the only person here who fits that description is ...”

  “Gaunt,” said Fisher.

  “Visage wouldn’t have the power,” said Hawk. “Would she?”

  “So far, this case has been nothing but questions with no trustworthy answers,” said Fisher disgustedly. “This case is going to be a challenge. I hate challenges. We were better off with the vampire. At least we knew where we were with him.”

  “Come on,” said Hawk. “Let’s go down and face the crowd in the parlor. Maybe we can get some answers out of them.”

  “We might,” said Fisher. “But I doubt it.”

  They left the room, and Hawk pulled the door shut behind him. It wouldn’t stay closed. Hawk looked at the splintered wood and the shattered lock, and wasn’t surprised.

  “You always were efficient,” said Fisher, smiling. “But if we can’t lock the door, how are we going to keep people out?”

  “Beats me,” said Hawk. “Ask them nicely? There’s not a lot in the room in the way of real evidence, as far as I can tell.... And any attempt to interfere with the scene of the crime would be a pretty good indication of guilt. So let’s just leave the door open and see what happens.”

  “I love it when you’re devious,” said Fisher.

  They chuckled quietly together, and made their way down the stairs and into the parlor. Hawk and Fisher paused a moment in the doorway, taking in the waiting suspects. The sorcerer Gaunt stood at the rear of the room by the main table. His face was calm, but his eyes were dark and brooding. Katherine Blackstone was still sitting in her chair by the empty fireplace. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and she had a tired, defeated look. Bowman stood beside her. His face was calm and controlled, as always. The Lord and Lady Hightower stood together by the buffet table. Their backs were straight and their heads erect, and they stood protectively close to each other. Hawk looked at the Lady Elaine’s hands. They were held tightly together, the knuckles white from the pressure, as though to stop them trembling. Anger? Or fear? Not far away, Dorimant was helping himself to another glass of the fruit cordial. His normally ruddy face was pale and strained, and his hands were unsteady. The witch Visage stood beside him. She looked lost and frightened and very young. As Hawk watched, Dorimant put his arm around the witch’s shoulders. Visage leaned against him gratefully, as though all the strength had gone out of her. Adam Stalker stood alone in the middle of the room. He glared impatiently at Hawk and Fisher as they stood in the doorway.

  “Well?” he said finally. “What’s happened? And why have we been kept waiting all this time?”

  “Councillor Blackstone is dead,” said Hawk quietly. He waited a moment, but no one said anything. Hawk walked forward into the parlour with Fisher at his side, and Stalker reluctantly gave way to allow them to take up the center position. Hawk looked slowly about him, to be sure he had everyone’s attention, and then continued. “William Blackstone was stabbed to death, in his room. So far, we have no clues as to the identity of the killer. At my request, the sorcerer Gaunt has sealed off the house with an isolation spell. No one can get in or out.”

  The guests stirred uneasily, but still nobody said anything. For a moment, Hawk thought Hightower might. His face had lost all its color, and his hands had clenched into fists. But the moment passed, and Hightower remained silent. Hawk took a deep breath, and continued.

  “Now, as Guards, my partner and I are required to question you each in turn, to help build up a picture of what was happening at the time of the killing. In the meantime, of course, no one is to go near the body.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Bowman. “Question us? Are you saying you think one of us is the killer?”

  “Ridiculous!” snapped Hightower. “And I’m damned if I’m answering any questions from a jumped-up Guard!”

  “Refusal to assist us in our inquiries is in itself a crime,” said Fisher calmly. “I’m sure you all know the penalties for obstructing the Guard in the performance of their duty.”

  “You wouldn’t dare....” said Hightower.

  “Wouldn’t I?” said Hawk. He locked eyes with Hightower, and Hightower was the first to look away. Stalker stepped forward.

  “I’ve had experience with murders before, Captain. If I can help in any way, you have only to ask.”

  “Thank you, sir Stalker,” said Hawk politely. “I’ll bear that in mind.” He turned to Gaunt. “Sir sorcerer, is there a room my partner and I can use to talk privately with your guests?”

  “Of course, Captain. There’s my library; it’s just across the hall.”

  The library proved to be a small, cosy room directly opposite the parlour. Gaunt ushered Hawk and Fisher in, and lit two of the library’s oil lamps with a wave of his hand. All four of the walls were lined with bookshelves, each packed with books of various shapes and sizes. The books were stacked neatly, though apparently according to size and shape as much as contents. There were two comfortable-looking chairs by the empty fireplace, and two other doors, one to the left and one to the right.

  “Where do they lead?” said Hawk, indicating the doors.

  “The door to your right leads to the kitchen,” said Gaunt. “The door to your left leads to my private laboratory. That door is locked and shielded at all times.”

  “Fine,” said Hawk. “This room should do nicely. I think we’ll make a start with you, sir Gaunt, if it’s convenient.”

  “Of course,” said Gaunt. “But we’ll need another chair.” He gestured sharply, and the library door swung open. A chair came sliding out of the parlour. It crossed the hall and entered the library, and the door swung shut behind it. Gaunt carefully positioned the chair before the empty fireplac
e and sat down. Hawk and Fisher pulled up the other two chairs, and sat facing him.

  “That was very impressive,” said Hawk.

  “Not really,” said Gaunt. “Well, what do we do now? I’ve never been involved in a murder investigation before. What kind of things do you need to ask me?”

  “Nothing too difficult,” said Hawk. “To start with, do you recognise this key?” He nodded to Fisher, who dug the key out of her pocket and handed it to Gaunt. The sorcerer looked at the key, and then turned it over in his hand a few times.

  “It looks like one of mine. Is it the key to William’s room?”

  “That’s what we want to know.”

  Gaunt shrugged. “All the keys look the same to me. Since I live on my own most of the time, I don’t have much use for the upstairs rooms. Usually I keep all my keys on one ring, in the right order so that I can tell them apart. And now they’ve all been split up.... Still, it shouldn’t be too difficult to work out which key it is. Where did you find it?”

  “In Blackstone’s room,” said Fisher. “On the floor, not far from the door.”

  Gaunt looked at Hawk. “Then why ask me if this is William’s key?”

  “Because in a case like this we need to be very sure of our facts,” said Hawk. “You can never tell what’s going to turn out to be significant. Please let me know when you’re sure that’s Blackstone’s key. Now, sir Gaunt, what did you do earlier this evening, after your guests had gone upstairs to change?”