Winner Takes All Page 11

  Dannielle bit her lip. Better to say it now, while he was in a good mood. "James, what do you think of Hawk and Fisher?"

  "They seem competent enough. And surprisingly intelligent, for Guards."

  "But do you think they'll be good at their job? As bodyguards?"

  "Oh, certainly."

  "Then we don't need to rely on Mortice so much anymore, do we?" James looked at her sharply, and she hurried on before he could say anything. "You've got to do something about Mortice, James. We can't go on as we are. We need real magical protection. It was different when we had no one else we could trust, but now we've got Hawk and Fisher…"

  "Mortice is one of the most powerful sorcerers in Haven," said Adamant flatly.

  "He used to be; now he's just a corpse with delusions of grandeur. His mind's going, James. Those blood-creatures weren't the first things to get past his wards, were they?"

  "He's friend," said Adamant quietly. "He gave his life for me. I can't just turn my back on him."

  "When was the last time you went to see him, before today?"

  Adamant came and sat down on the bed beside her. He suddenly looked very tired. "I can't bear to see him anymore, Danny. Just looking at him makes me feel sick and angry and guilty. If he'd just died, I could mourn for him and let him go. But he isn't dead or alive… Just being in the cellar with him makes my skin crawl. The sorcerer Masque was my friend, not that thing rotting in the darkness! But he was my friend, and if it wasn't for him I would have died. Oh, Danny, I don't know what to feel anymore!"

  Dannielle put her arms around him and rocked him back and forth. "I know, love. I know."

  Dannielle came into the study only a few minutes after Hawk sent for her. She smiled brightly at the two Guards, and sank gracefully into her favorite chair.

  "I do hope this won't take long. James is almost ready to go."

  "We just need to get a few things clear," said Hawk easily. "Nothing too difficult. How involved are you with the day-to-day running of Adamant's campaign?"

  "Not very. Stefan handles all that. I've no head for organizing things, so I let the two men get on with it. My job is to stand conspicuously at James's side and smile at anyone who looks like they might vote for him. I'm rather good at that."

  "What about the financial side?" said Fisher.

  "I'm afraid I'm not very good with figures, either. It's all I can do to handle the household accounts. Once I went a few hundred ducats over budget and James was positively rude to me. Stefan handles all the money to do with the campaign. That's part of his job."

  "Let's talk about the gossip," said Hawk.

  Dannielle looked at him guilelessly. "What gossip?"

  "Come on," said Fisher. "There's always gossip, and you're in the best position to know about it. Servants will talk to you where they wouldn't talk to Adamant or Medley. Or us."

  Dannielle thought for a moment, and then shrugged. "Very well, but I can't vouch for how authentic any of this is. Stefan's been a bit… distracted recently. Apparently he's got a new girlfriend he's very fond of, but he's trying to keep it quiet because James wouldn't approve of her. It seems she's minor Quality, from a very Conservative family with strong connections to Hardcastle. You can imagine what the broadsheet singers would make of that, if it ever got out."

  "How long has this been going on?" said Hawk.

  "I'm not sure. About a month. I think."

  "After the problems with the embezzlement began?"

  "Oh, well after. Besides, Stefan would never betray James. He's far too professional."

  Hawk caught the emphasis, and raised an eyebrow. "I thought that was why Adamant hired him?"

  "There's such a thing as being too professional. Stefan lives, eats, and breathes his work. His word is never broken, and he defends his reputation the way some women defend their honor. What's more, he works all the hours God sends, and expects James to do the same. It's all I can do to get the pair of them to eat regularly. I'll be glad when this bloody campaign is over and we can all get back to normal."

  "Is there anything else you can tell us?" said Hawk. "Has anything unusual happened recently?"

  "You mean apart from my garden disappearing overnight and a rain of blood in my hall?"

  Hawk nodded glumly. "I take your point."

  Dannielle got to her feet. "Well, it was very nice talking to you both, but if you'll excuse me, James is waiting."

  She swept out, without waiting for permission to leave. Hawk waited until the door had closed behind her, and then looked at Fisher. "So, Medley has a Conservative lover. That could be significant. Perhaps there's some kind of blackmail involved."

  "Maybe; but the embezzlement started months before he met her."

  "We can't be sure of that. He could have been seeing her for months before the servants got to hear of it."

  Fisher scowled. "This is going to be another complicated case, isn't it?"

  Stefan Medley sat alone in the library, staring at a wall of books and not seeing them. He should have told Hawk and Fisher about his lady love, but he hadn't. He couldn't. They wouldn't have understood.

  Love was a new experience for Medley. The only passion he'd ever known before was for his work. Medley had long ago come to the conclusion that whatever women wanted in a man, he didn't have it. He wasn't much to look at, he had few social graces and even less money, and his chosen career wasn't exactly glamorous. He didn't want much out of life; he just wanted someone to care for him who didn't have to, someone to give him a reason for living. He just wanted what everyone else had and took for granted, and he'd never known.

  Now he'd found someone, or she'd found him, and he wouldn't give her up. He couldn't. She was all he had. Except for James's friendship. Medley beat softly on the arm of his chair with his fist. James had believed in him, made him his right-hand man and his friend, trusted him above all others. And now here he was, selfishly keeping a secret that could destroy James's campaign if word ever got out.

  But he had to do it. James would never understand. Of all the women he could have fallen in love with, it had to be her… except, of course, he'd had no choice in the matter. It had just… happened. Medley had always thought that falling in love, when it finally happened, would be gentle and romantic. In fact, it was more like being mugged. Overnight, his whole life had changed.

  Medley sat quietly while his mind worked frantically, turning desperately this way and that, searching for a way out of the trap he'd built for himself. There was no way out. Sooner or later he was going to have to choose between his friend and his love, and he didn't know what would happen then. He couldn't give up either of them. They were the two sides of his nature. And they were tearing him apart.

  "More and more, this reminds me of the Blackstone case," said Fisher. "Something nasty's going to happen. We can all feel it in the air, and there's nothing we can do about it."

  "At least then we had a handful of suspects to choose among," said Hawk. "Now we're stuck with two: the man's wife and his best friend. And the only skeleton in the cupboard we've been able to find is that Medley might be seeing a Conservative girlfriend on the quiet. Hardly a burning motive for murder and betrayal, is it?"

  "Don't look at me," said Fisher. "You're the brains in this partnership; I just take care of the rough stuff. Conspiracies make my head hurt."

  "Right." Hawk scowled. "There's still the butler, Villiers. Maybe he knows something. Servants always know things."

  Fisher smiled sourly. "Whether he's prepared to talk to us about it is a different matter. If you ask me, Villiers is one of the old school—faithful unto death and beyond, if necessary. We'll be lucky to get the time of day out of him."

  Hawk looked at her. "That's great. Think positively, why don't you?"

  They both fell silent as the door swung open and Villiers came in. He bowed politely to the two Guards, shut the door firmly behind him, and then stood to attention, waiting to hear what was required of him. His poker-straight back and p
atient, dour expression gave him a solid dignity that was only partly undermined by the fluffy white tufts of hair that blossomed above his ears, in contrast to his resolutely bald head. He had dressed with exquisite care, and wouldn't have looked out of place in a Lord's mansion.

  So what was he doing, working for a champion of the common people?

  "Take a seat," said Hawk.

  Villiers shook his head slightly but definitely. "I'd rather not, sir."

  "Why not?" said Fisher.

  "It's not my place," said Villiers, "ma'am." He added the last word just a little too late.

  "How long have you been James Adamant's butler?" said Hawk quickly.

  "Nine years, sir. Before that I was butler to his father. The Villiers family has served the Adamant family for three generations."

  "Even during the bad times, when they lost everything?"

  "Every family knows disappointments from time to time."

  "How do you feel about Adamant's politics?" said Fisher.

  "It's not my place to say, ma'am. My duty is to Master Adamant, and the Villiers have always known their duty."

  "How do you get on with Mrs. Adamant?" said Hawk.

  "An excellent young lady, from a fine background. A strong support to Master Adamant. Her health has been a little delicate of late, but she had never allowed that to interfere with her duties to her husband and the household. Mrs. Adamant is a very determined young lady."

  "What's wrong with her health?" said Fisher.

  "I really couldn't say, ma'am."

  "How do you feel about Stefan Medley?" said Hawk.

  "Master Medley seems quite competent in his work, sir."

  "How about his private life?"

  Villiers drew himself up slightly. "None of my business, sir," he said firmly. "I do not hold with gossip, and I do not encourage it below stairs."

  "Thank you, Villiers," said Hawk. "That will be all."

  "Thank you, sir." Villiers bowed formally to Hawk, nodded politely to Fisher, and left, closing the door softly behind him.

  "I never met a butler yet who wouldn't be improved by a swift kick up the behind," said Hawk.

  "Right," said Fisher. "Snobs, the lot of them. Even if he did know anything, he wouldn't tell the likes of us. It wouldn't be proper."

  "Maybe there's nothing to tell," said Hawk. "Maybe there is no traitor, and this is all part of an elaborate smear job by the Conservatives to rattle Adamant and undermine his confidence."

  Fisher groaned. "My head hurts."

  "Stick with it," said Hawk. "The answer's here somewhere, if we just dig deep enough. Those blood-creatures were real enough. I'm damned if I'll let Adamant die the way Blackstone did. I'll keep Adamant alive, even if I have to kill all his enemies personally."

  "Now you're talking," said Fisher.

  All the day's talk and planning hadn't prepared Hawk and Fisher for the reality of life on the campaign trail. Adamant set out while the day was still young, taking with him Medley and Dannielle, Hawk and Fisher, and a small army of followers, mercenaries, and speech-writers. Hawk felt a little insulted by the presence of the mercenaries; it seemed to imply that Adamant felt Hawk and Fisher weren't enough to ensure his safety. But once Adamant and his party ventured into the streets, the crowds quickly grew so thick and so vociferous that only the mercenaries kept him from being mobbed. Hawk and Fisher contented themselves with walking on either side of Adamant and glaring at anyone who got too close.

  The morning passed in a blur of streets and crowds and speeches. Adamant went from hall to hall, from meeting place to open gatherings, delivering endless speeches, raising the crowds to fever pitch and leaving them with a burning intent to vote Reform, which would hopefully last until polling time later that evening. Adamant's followers spread coins around to anyone with enough wit to stick out an empty palm, and the free booze flowed like water. The speech-writers busied themselves with constant rewrites to suit specific areas, often thrusting hastily scrawled extra lines into Adamant's hands only moments before he was due to make his speech. Somehow he always managed to learn them in time and deliver the lines as though he'd only just thought of them. Hawk was impressed. And yet for all the carefully crafted speeches and crowd-handling, the one thing that stood out whenever Adamant spoke was his sincerity, and the crowds recognized it. He believed in his Cause, and he made the crowds believe.

  Down on Eel Street they found a landlord dictating how his tenants should vote, on pain of eviction. Adamant did a half-hour speech on the evils of oppression and the virtues of the secret ballot, and Fisher punched the landlord in the mouth. Not far away, in Baker Street, Hardcastle had planted a sorcerously altered double of Adamant to make damaging claims and speeches. Unfortunately for him, he grew too enamored of the sound of his own voice and didn't get out of the area fast enough. Adamant's mercenaries took care of the double's protectors, and Hawk and Fisher caught up with him before he managed a dozen yards. Adamant made a blockbuster speech on the need to outlaw dirty tricks in politics, and Hawk and Fisher took turns ducking the double in a horse-trough until he admitted who hired him.

  A bunch of rather shabbily dressed men began following Adamant and his people from location to location. They shouted impertinent questions and generally made a nuisance of themselves, but Adamant let them get away with it. Hawk and Fisher began to grow a little annoyed with them. Medley spotted the danger signs.

  "They're reporters," he said quickly. "Please don't break them."

  "We don't hit everyone we don't like," said Fisher.

  "Of course not," said Medley. "It just seems that way. Look, we need the press on our side. The two main papers may be written by and for the Quality and the upper middle classes, but they have votes too, and they have a lot of influence over how other people vote. Luckily for us, Hardcastle's always hated the press and never made any bones about it. So, anything that makes us look good is going to get reported, and that's another nail in Hardcastle's coffin. Besides, a lot of the reporters out there are freelancers, making notes for broadsheets. We definitely don't want to upset them."

  Adamant finished his speech, about the opening of a small free Hospital for the Poor and Needy, and the crowd applauded loudly. Adamant then formally declared the hospital open, cut a length of ribbon that served no purpose Hawk could make out, and got cheered again. Hawk decided he'd never understand politics. A large and muscular heckler pushed his way to the front of the crowd, accompanied by two mercenaries in full chain mail. He started insulting Adamant, loudly and obscenely. The crowd stirred unhappily but did nothing, intimidated by the two mercenaries. Adamant's mercenaries were hesitant about going into the crowd themselves, for fear of starting a panic. Hawk and Fisher looked at each other, and drew their weapons. The fight lasted less than a minute, and the heckler was left on his own, looking a lot less imposing, and staring unhappily at Fisher's sword-point hovering before his eyes.

  "If I were you," said Hawk, "I'd leave now. Otherwise, Fisher will show you her party trick. And we haven't really got the time to clean up the blood afterwards."

  The heckler looked at the two dead men at his feet, swallowed hard, and disappeared back into the crowd. They let him go, being more interested in putting questions to Adamant while they had the chance. Most of their questions concerned sewers, or the lack of them, but on the whole the crowd was good-natured. Seeing one of Hardcastle's men put to flight had put them almost into a party mood. Adamant answered their questions clearly and concisely, with just enough wit to keep the crowd amused without dampening the fire he was trying to build in them.

  Hawk leaned against a nearby wall and surveyed the scene before him. Everything seemed quiet. The crowd was friendly, and there was no sign of any more of Hardcastle's men. Hawk nodded, satisfied, and seized the chance for a short rest. The campaign trail so far had been hard and tiring, and there was still a lot of territory to cover. He looked round to see how the others were taking the strain.

  Fisher looked calm
and collected, but then, it took a lot to get to Fisher. Adamant was in his element and had never looked better. Dannielle, on the other hand, had found an overturned crate to sit on. Her face was pale and drawn, her shoulders were slumped with tiredness, and her hands were shaking. Hawk frowned. Villiers had said she was ill… He decided to keep an eye on her. If she didn't find her second wind soon, he'd have Fisher escort her home. The last thing Adamant needed was something else to worry about. Dannielle would be safe enough with Fisher, and maybe a couple of mercenaries, just to be on the safe side. He looked round for Medley, to tell him what he intended, and felt a sudden chill as he realized there was no sign of him. He turned quickly to Fisher, who smiled briefly.

  "Don't panic; he's just popped into the inn across the road for a swift drink. He'll be back before we have to move on. You're getting old, Hawk, missing things like that."

  "Right," said Hawk. "This election is putting years on me."

  The inn wasn't much to look at, even by High Steppes standards. Inside, the lights were dim enough to keep everything vague and indistinct. Most of the patrons preferred it that way, but then, they weren't much to look at either. It was that kind of neighborhood. Medley didn't give a damn. This was where he'd first met his lady love, and it would always be a special place to him. He nodded to the indifferent bartender behind the stained wooden bar, and moved quickly on to the private booths at the back of the inn. She was there, waiting for him, just as she'd promised. As always, just the sight of her was enough to make his heart beat faster. He sat down beside her, and his hands reached out and found hers. They sat staring into each other's eyes for a long moment, and it seemed to Medley that he'd never been so happy.