Winner Takes All Page 4

  "For the moment," said Adamant, sinking back into his chair. "I haven't had much time for you lately, have I, my dear? I'm sorry, Danny, but it's been a madhouse round here these last few weeks. Still, there's a good hour or so before the big speech. Better get some rest while you can, love. After the speech we have to go out into the streets to shake hands and kiss babies. Or possibly vice versa."

  "That can wait," said Dannielle. "Right now, your friend Mortice wants a word with you."

  Adamant looked at Medley. "Have you ever noticed that whenever Mortice does something aggravating, he's always my friend?"

  Medley nodded solemnly.

  Market Faire had a bad reputation, even for the Northside, which took some doing. You could buy anything at the Faire, if you had the price; anything from a curse to a killing. You could place a bet or buy a rare drug, choose a partner for the evening or arrange an unfortunate fire for a bothersome competitor. Judges lived in the Faire, and high-ranking members of the Guard, along with criminals and necromancers and anarchists. The Faire was a meeting ground; a place to make deals. Hawk couldn't help wondering if that was why Adamant had chosen to place his campaign headquarters in Market Faire.

  He and Fisher made their way unhurriedly down the main street, and the crowds made way before them. The two Guards nodded politely to familiar faces, but their hands never moved far from their weapons. Market Faire was an old, rather shabby area, for all its brightly painted facade. The stone walls were weathered and discolored, there were cracks in the pavements, and from the smell of it the drains had backed up again. Still, all things were relative. At least the Faire had drains. Bravos swaggered through the bustling crowds, thumbs tucked into their sword belts, eyes alert for anything they could take as an insult. None of them were stupid enough to lock stares with Hawk and Fisher.

  Adamant's house was planted square in the middle of the main street, tucked away behind high stone walls and tall iron gates. There were jagged spikes on the gates and broken glass on top of the walls. Two armed men in full chain mail stood guard before the gates. The younger of the two stepped forward to block Hawk and Fisher's way as they approached the gates. Hawk smiled at him easily.

  "Captains Hawk and Fisher, city Guard, to see James Adamant. We're expected."

  The young guard didn't smile back. "Anyone can claim to be a Guard Captain. You got any identification?"

  "You're new in town, aren't you?" said Fisher.

  Hawk lifted his left hand, to show the Captain's silver tore at his wrist. "The man's just doing his job, Isobel."

  "Things have been a little unsettled around here recently," said the older of the two guards. "I know you. Captain Hawk, Captain Fisher. I'm glad you're here. Adamant's going to need some real protection before this election's over."

  The younger guard sniffed loudly. Hawk looked at him. "Anything the matter?"

  The young guard looked insolently at him. "You're a lot older than I thought you'd be. Are you really as good as they say?"

  Fisher's sword leapt into her hand, and a split second later the point of her sword was hovering directly before the young guard's left eyeball. "No," she said calmly. "We're better."

  She stepped back and sheathed her sword in a single fluid movement. The young guard swallowed loudly. The older guard smiled, unlocked the heavy gates, and pushed them open. Hawk nodded politely, and he and Fisher entered the grounds of Adamant's house.

  "Show-off," said Hawk quietly. Fisher grinned.

  The gates swung shut behind them with a dull, emphatic thud. The house at the end of the gravel pathway was a traditional two-storey mansion, with gable windows and a front porch large enough to shelter a small army. Anywhere else in the Steppes, a place like this would have had a whole family living in each room. Ivy sprawled across most of the front wall, its thickness suggesting that it alone was holding the aged brickwork together. There were four squat chimney pots at one end of the roof, all of them smoking. Hawk looked unhappily around him as he and Fisher made their way through the grounds towards the house. The wide grass lawns were faded and withered, and there were no flowers. The air smelled rank and oppressive. The single tree was dark and twisted, its branches bare. It looked as though it had been poisoned and then struck by lightning.

  "This," said Fisher positively, "is a dump. Are you sure this is the right place?"

  "Unfortunately, yes." Hawk sniffed the air cautiously. "Nothing's grown here for years. Still, not everyone likes gardening."

  They walked the rest of the way in silence. Hawk strained his ears for some sound apart from their own boots on the gravel drive, but the grounds were unnaturally quiet. By the time they got to the massive front door, Hawk had managed to thoroughly unsettle himself. At the very least there should have been the bustling sounds of the heavy crowds outside, the everyday clamor of a city at work and at play. Instead, Adamant's house and grounds stood stark and still in their own little pool of silence.

  There was a large and blocky brass knocker on the door, shaped like a lion's head with a brass ring in its jaws. Hawk knocked twice, raising loud echoes, and then quickly let go of the brass ring. He had an uneasy feeling the lion's head was looking at him.

  "Yeah," said Fisher quietly. "I feel it too. This place gives me the creeps, Hawk."

  "We've seen worse. Anyway, you can't judge a man by where he happens to be living. Even if he has got a graveyard for a garden."

  They fell silent as the massive door swung silently open on its counterweights. The man standing in the doorway was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed immaculately in the slightly out-of-date formal wear that identified him immediately as a butler. He looked to be in his early fifties, with a supercilious expression, a bald head, and ridiculous tufts of white hair above his ears. He held himself very correctly, and his gaze said that he had seen it all before, and hadn't been impressed then, either. He bowed very politely to Hawk, and, after a moment's hesitation, to Fisher.

  "Good morning, sir and madam. I am Villiers, Master Adamant's butler. If you'll follow me, Master Adamant is expecting you."

  He stepped back a careful two paces, and then stood at attention while Hawk and Fisher entered. He closed the door quietly, and Hawk and Fisher seized the opportunity for a quick look around the hall. It was comfortably spacious without seeming overbearing, and the wood-paneled walls glowed warmly in the lamplight. Hawk approved of the lamps. Too many halls were oversized and underlit, as though there was something fashionable about eyestrain. He realized Villiers was standing politely at his side, and turned unhurriedly to face him.

  "Villiers, you're standing on my shadow. I don't normally like people that close to me."

  "I'm sorry, sir. I was just wondering if you and your… partner would care to remove your cloaks. It is customary."

  "I don't think so," said Hawk. "Maybe later."

  Villiers bowed slightly, his impassive face somehow managing to convey that of course they knew best, even when they were wrong. He led the way down the hall, without looking to see if they were following, and ushered them into a large, comfortably appointed library. All four walls were lined with bookshelves, and leather-bound book spines gleamed dully from every direction. There was one comfortable chair by the fireplace, which Fisher immediately appropriated, stretching her legs out before her. Villiers cleared his throat politely.

  "If you would be so kind as to wait here, I will inform Master Adamant of your arrival."

  He bowed again, to just the right degree, and left the library, closing the door quietly but firmly behind him.

  "I never did like butlers," said Fisher. "They're always such terrible snobs. Worse than their employers, usually." She looked at the empty fireplace, and shivered. "Is it just me, or is it freezing cold in here?"

  "Probably just feels that way, coming in from the warmth outside. These big places hold the cold."

  Fisher nodded, looking absently around her. "Do you suppose he's really read all these books?"

  "Should
n't think so," said Hawk. "Probably bought them by the yard. Having your own library is quite fashionable, at the moment."

  "Why?"

  "Don't ask me. I've never understood fashion."

  Fisher looked at him sharply. There had been something in his voice… "This isn't what you'd expected, is it?"

  "No," said Hawk. "It isn't. James Adamant is supposed to be a man of the people, representing the poor and the downtrodden. This kind of lifestyle is the very thing he's always campaigned against A big house, a butler, books he's never read. Dammit, he can't even be bothered to look after the place properly."

  "Don't blame me," said Adamant. "I didn't choose this monstrosity."

  Hawk turned round quickly, and Fisher rose elegantly to her feet as James Adamant entered the library, followed by Dannielle and Medley.

  "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," said Adamant. "Captains Hawk and Fisher, may I present my wife, Dannielle, and my Advisor, Stefan Medley."

  There was a quick flurry of bows and handshakes. Dannielle extended a hand for Hawk to kiss. He shot a quick glance at Fisher, and shook the hand instead.

  "I think we'd all be much more comfortable in my study," said Adamant easily. "This way."

  He led them back down the hall and ushered them into the study, chatting amiably all the way. "My superiors insisted we take on this draught-ridden folly as Reform Headquarters, and in a moment of weakness, I agreed. It's quite unsuitable, of course, but the current thinking is that we have to put on as good a show as the Conservatives or the voters won't take us seriously. Personally, I think it's that kind of half-baked nonsense that's undermined Reform's credibility with the electorate these past few years. But since I'm only a very junior candidate, I don't get much say in these matters."

  Medley brought in some more chairs, and Dannielle bustled around making sure that everyone was comfortably seated and had a brimming glass of wine in their hand.

  "How do you feel about this place?" Hawk asked her politely.

  "Ghastly old heap. Smells of damp, and half the time the toilets don't work properly."

  "Your garden's not up to much, either," said Fisher. Hawk winced.

  Dannielle and Adamant shared a look, their faces suddenly grim.

  "We have enemies, Captain Fisher," said Adamant evenly. "Enemies not averse to using sorcery, when they can get away with it. Three days ago we had a splendid garden. Fine lawns, well-tended flower beds, and a magnificent old apple tree. And now it's all gone. Nothing will grow there. It's not safe even to walk far from the path. There are things moving in the dead earth. I think they come out at night, sometimes. No one's ever seen them, but come the morning there are scratches on the door and shutters that weren't there the night before."

  There was a cold silence for a moment.

  "It's illegal for political candidates to use sorcery in any form," said Hawk finally. "Directly or indirectly. If you can prove Hardcastle was responsible…"

  "There's no proof," said Dannielle. "He's too clever for that."

  There was another silence.

  "You made good time in getting here," said Medley brightly. "I only put in my request for you this morning."

  Hawk looked at him. "You asked for us specifically?"

  "Well, yes. James has many enemies. I wanted the best people I could get as his bodyguards. You and your partner have an excellent reputation. Captain Hawk."

  "That isn't always enough," said Fisher. "The last time we got involved with guarding a politician, the man died."

  "We know about Councilor Blackstone," said Medley. "It wasn't your fault he died; you'd done everything you reasonably could to protect him. And you found his murderer, long after any other Guards would have given up."

  Hawk looked at Adamant. "Are you happy with this arrangement, sir Adamant? It's not too late for you to find somebody else."

  "I trust my Advisor," said Adamant. "When it comes to picking the right people for a job, his judgment is impeccable. Stefan knows about such things. Now then, if you and your partner are going to be spending some time with us, I'd better bring you up to date on what's happening in the election. What kind of things do you need to know, Captain Hawk?"

  "Everything," said Hawk flatly. "Who your enemies are, what kind of opposition you'll be facing. Anything that might give us an edge."

  Dannielle got to her feet. "If you're going to get all technical, I think I'll go and see how dinner's coming along."

  "Now, Danny, you promised you wouldn't bother the cook anymore," said Adamant. "You know she hates people looking over her shoulder."

  "For what we're paying her, she can put up with a little criticism," said Dannielle calmly. She smiled graciously at Hawk and Fisher, and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

  "Now then," said Adamant, leaning comfortably back in his chair. "When you get right down to it, there are only two main parties: Conservative and Reform. But there's also a handful of fringe parties, and a few well-supported independents, just to complicate things. There's Free Trade, the Brotherhood of Steel, No Tax on Liquor (also known as the Who's for a Party Party), and various pressure groups, such as the Trade Guilds and some of the better organized militant religions."

  "The Conservatives are the main threat," said Medley. "They've got the most money. Free Trade is mainly a merchants' party. They make a lot of speeches, but they're short on popular support. Mostly they end up throwing their weight behind the Conservatives. No Tax on Liquor is the Lord Sinclair's personal party. He funds it and runs it, practically single-handed. There are always people willing to go along with him, if only for the free booze he dishes out. He's harmless, apart from this one bee in his bonnet. The Trade Guilds mean well, but they're too disorganized to mount any real threat to the Conservatives, and they know it. Usually they end up working hand-in-hand with Reform. That's where a lot of our funding comes from."

  "What about the Brotherhood of Steel?" said Fisher. "I always thought they were more mystical than political."

  "The two are pretty much the same in Haven," said Adamant. "Power and religion have always gone hand-in-hand here. Luckily most of the Beings on the Street of Gods are more interested in feuding with each other than getting involved in the day-to-day politics of running Haven. The Beings have always been great ones for feuds. But, over the past few years the Brotherhood of Steel has changed its ways. They're nowhere near as insular as they used to be; they're much better organized, and just lately a militant branch has started flexing its political muscle. They've even got a candidate standing in this election. He won't win; they're not that strong yet. But they could be a deciding factor in who does win."

  Hawk frowned. "Who would they be most likely to side with?"

  "Good question," said Medley. "I can think of any number of political fixers who'd pay good money for the answer. I don't know, Captain Hawk. Ordinarily I'd have said the Conservatives, but the Brotherhood's mystical bent confuses the hell out of me. I don't trust fanatics. There's no telling which way they'll jump when the pressure's on."

  "All right," said Hawk. "Now that we're clear on that…"

  "Speak for yourself," muttered Fisher.

  "… perhaps you could explain exactly what's at stake in this election. A lot of people have been saying Reform could end up dominating the Council, even if the Conservatives still hold most of the Seats. I don't get that."

  "It's really very simple," said Adamant, and Hawk's heart sank. Whenever people said that, it always meant things were about to become very, very complicated. Adamant steepled his fingers, and studied them thoughtfully. "There are twenty-one Seats on the Council, representing the various districts of Haven. After the last election. Reform held four Seats, the Conservatives held eleven, and there were six unaffiliated Seats. Which meant in practice that the Conservatives ran the Council to suit themselves. But this time there are at least three Seats that could go either way. All Reform has to do is win one extra Seat, and together with the six independents we
could take control of the Council away from the Conservatives. Which is why this particular election is all set for some of the dirtiest and most vicious political infighting Haven has ever seen."

  "Great," said Fisher. "Just what the people need. Another excuse to go crazy, riot in the streets, and set fire to things. How long is this madness going to go on for?"

  "Not long," said Medley, smiling. "After the result has been announced this evening, there will be general fighting and dancing in the streets, followed by the traditional fireworks display and the paying off of old scores by the victorious party. After that, Haven will go deathly quiet, as everyone disappears to bind their wounds, get some sleep, and nurse their hangovers. Not necessarily in that order. Everything clear now?"

  "Almost," said Hawk. "What are we doing here?"

  Adamant looked at Medley, and then back at Hawk. "I understood you'd been told. You and your partner are here to act as my bodyguards until the election is over."

  "You don't need us for that," said Hawk flatly. "You've got armed men at your gates, and probably quite a few more scattered around the house. And if you'd still felt the need for a professional bodyguard, there are any number of agencies in Haven that could have provided you with one. But you asked for us, specifically, despite our record. Why us. Adamant? What can we do for you that your own men can't?"

  Adamant leaned back in his chair, and some of his strength seemed to go out of him for a moment, only to return again as he lifted his eyes and met Hawk's gaze squarely. "Two main reasons, Captain Hawk. Firstly, there have been death threats made against me and my wife. Quite nasty threats. Normally I wouldn't worry too much. Elections always bring out the cranks. But I have reason to believe that these threats may be genuine. There have been three separate attempts on my life already, all of them quite professional. Stefan tells me there are whispers that the attacks were sanctioned by Councilor Hardcastle himself.

  "Secondly, it seems I have a traitor among my people. Someone has been leaking information, important information, about my comings and goings, and my security arrangements. That person has also been embezzling money from my campaign funds. According to Stefan's investigations, it's been going on for some months; small amounts at first, but growing larger all the time. What evidence we have been able to piece together suggests that traitor has to be someone fairly close to me; my friends, my servants, my fellow campaign workers. Someone I trusted has betrayed me. I want you two to act as my bodyguard, and identify the traitor."