“We stuck together after that; we knew a hint from the Gods when we saw one. We worked well together, and slowly became friends as well as allies. The army sent us here and there, and we saw a lot of action in the kinds of places minstrels like to call colorful. Arse-ends of the world, most of them. We fought in twenty-three different Campaigns down the years, and not one of them for a cause that was worth so much blood and dying. Still, we got to see some of the world. Had some good times together. Even had a few adventures that had nothing to do with the army; but none of them the kind of thing you’d want to make a song about.
“Ah hell, Greaves. What can I tell you that you don’t already know? Duncan was a good soldier and a better friend. He had a bit of a temper, but he was always sorry afterwards, and his word was good, unlike quite a few I could mention. He brought me here to the Tower, when my soldiering days were over, and made me a part of his Family in all but name. That’s my old sword, hanging on the wall there. And you tell me you’ll miss him? I miss Duncan with every breath I take. When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I remember is that he’s dead. It’s like there’s a hole in my life that he used to fill, and now it’s cold and empty. I should have been there, Greaves. I should have been there with him. Maybe I could have done ... something. He never did watch his back enough. But I wasn’t there, because we both thought I was too old. So he died alone, among strangers, and I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering if I could have saved him if I’d been there.
“What do you want me to say, Greaves? That he liked you? He did, as far as I know. Wait until after the will; I’ll read his eulogy then. I wrote it myself years ago; just needs a little updating. I’ll say all the right things, make all the proper comments, sing his praises and not mention any of the things he’d rather were forgotten. Things that might shock young Jamie and his friends. I’ll polish up his memory one last time, and we can all say goodbye. You have to learn to say goodbye, Greaves. It’s the first real lesson every soldier learns.”
Brennan finally ran down, and the old library was quiet again. Greaves nodded slowly. “Thank you, Robbie. There were many things Mister Duncan could not bring himself to tell me about his past, perhaps because he thought they might distress me. But I wanted to know them anyway. Because they were a part of him. But he is not really gone from us, you know. He has left behind the young master, Jamie. There is a lot of his father in him.”
“I suppose so,” said Brennan. “Sure, he’s a good kid. Is there anything else, or can I call the others down now?”
“We have to protect Mister Jamie!” said Greaves fiercely. “He is the MacNeil now. I think I know who our killer is. He masquerades as Quality, but he does not have the true stamp of the aristocracy about him. Never mind who; I am not certain enough yet to point the finger. But when the time comes, he must die. And Mister Jamie may not be able to do the deed. He’s young, and largely untested. If he should balk, we must do the task for him. The Secret must not get out. Or we betray Duncan’s name and memory.”
Hawk hurried down the corridor to the bathroom, clutching at the right side of his face with his hand. He banged on the bathroom door with his fist, waited a moment to see if anyone would answer, and then pushed open the door and hurried in. He slammed the door behind him with his foot, and made for the washbasin. He splashed some water into the bowl, and then reached up and carefully eased the glass eye out of his aching eye socket. He leaned against the wall as the pain slowly receded, letting his breathing get back to normal, and then he dropped the eye into the basin. It stared up at him reproachfully, as though someone had told it about the problem being all in Hawk’s mind. He turned his back on it, and massaged the right side of his face. He was already feeling a lot better. When this case was over he was going to have to have a stiff talk with himself as to which part of his mind was in charge.
He turned back and studied himself in the wall mirror. With his right eyelid closed to hide the empty socket, he looked somehow furtive. Not to mention half-witted. If someone came up to him on the street looking like that, he’d arrest the man on general principles. He glared down at the offending glass eye. The pain was almost gone now, but he had no doubt it would start creeping back as soon as he replaced the eye. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about. The case was complicated enough when he took it on, but now things were definitely getting out of hand. Not only was he nowhere near identifying the spy Fenris, he also had to find a magic-using killer freak before it killed everyone in the Tower; whilst, at the same time, keeping the increasingly paranoid others from figuring out that Richard and Isobel MacNeil weren’t all they were supposed to be. Hawk sighed, heavily, and fished the glass eye out of the water.
He held it up to the mirror, and then practically had a coronary as he saw the door start to swing open behind him. He crammed the glass eye into his socket, checked quickly that he’d got it the right way round and pointing in the right direction, and then turned smiling falsely to face Katrina Dorimant. She had a hand to her mouth, and was blushing prettily.
“I’m so sorry, Richard, but you forgot to lock the door. I’ll wait outside.”
“No, it’s all right,” said Hawk quickly. “I’m finished. You can come in. I’m ... just leaving.”
“There’s no hurry,” said Katrina, walking slowly towards him. “No need to rush off on my account. I only came in to freshen up. Besides, I’ve been looking for a chance to get you on your own.”
“Oh yes?” said Hawk, in a voice that wasn’t as steady as it might have been. He started to back away, and immediately bumped into the wash stand behind him. “What did you want to see me about?”
“No need to be bashful, Richard dear. We don’t need to play games, surely; not at our age. We’re of an age where we can say what we mean, and pursue those things we desire without hiding behind false modesty. You’re a very attractive man, Richard.”
She stopped immediately in front of him, so close her bosom pressed lightly against his chest as she breathed. Her upturned face brought her mouth dangerously close to his, and he could feel her warm breath on his lips. Hawk swallowed hard.
“You are a married woman,” he said hoarsely, clutching at straws.
“Oh, don’t bother about Graham. No one else does. We’ll just have to be discreet, that’s all. I’ve seen you watching me, Richard, when you thought no one was looking. Watching me, wanting me, desiring me. I can feel the passion rising within you. Why try and deny it? My heart is beating faster just at the closeness of you. Feel it!”
She grabbed his right hand and held it firmly to her breast. Her skin seemed impossibly soft and warm under his hand, and her perfume filled his head. He thought about calling for help, and then quickly decided against it. If Isobel was to find them like this, she’d kill both of them. Or laugh herself sick. Hawk wasn’t sure which would be worse. He tried to surreptitiously pull his hand free, but she had a grip like a beartrap.
“Don’t fight it, Richard,” murmured Katrina, practically breathing the words into his mouth. Her eyes were dark and dangerous. “You do find me attractive, don’t you?”
“Uh ... yes. Sure. It’s just ...”
“Just what?”
“This is hardly the right place for a romantic assignation,” said Hawk, improvising wildly. “Someone might come in.”
“We could lock the door.”
“They’d get suspicious! Besides, Jamie will be calling us down for the reading of the will soon, and we wouldn’t want to be interrupted, now would we?”
“The will. Yes, of course.” She let go of his hand and stepped back, frowning thoughtfully. “You’re right, my dear; this isn’t the right time. But don’t worry, Richard. I’ll sort something out. Just leave everything to me. And the next time we meet, things will be very different, I promise you. See you later, my darling.”
She kissed the tip of her index finger, pressed it to his lips, and then turned and left the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind her. Hawk swallowed hard and slumped back against the washstand. Just when he thought the case couldn’t get any more complicated ... The bathroom door burst open, and Hawk almost screamed. Fisher looked at him.
“What the hell are you so jumpy about?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. What is it?”
“Jamie’s just called us down for the reading of the will. Are you all right? You look a bit flushed.”
6
A Dead Man, Talking
The library had been designed for quiet contemplation, or perhaps the occasional late-night reminiscences of a few old friends. Cosy and comfortable, a refuge from the hurlyburly of the world. Now that it was crammed from wall to wall with several chattering MacNeils and their friends, the room seemed small and cluttered and not a little cramped. Hawk and Fisher were the last to arrive, and hung back by the door to look the place over before plunging in. Fisher was interested in who was talking to whom, and what that implied. Hawk wanted to know where Katrina was, so he could be sure to avoid her, and how many exits there were to the room. He always liked to know where the doors were, in case he had to leave in a hurry. You picked up habits like that, living in Haven. He was relieved to note there was only the one door. It simplified things. He turned his attention to the gathering.
David, Holly, and Arthur were standing with their backs to the fireplace, toasting each other with cups of steaming punch. They were smiling and laughing as though they didn’t have a care in the world. As though they’d forgotten all about the dead man and the disguised freak. Hawk sniffed, and shrugged inwardly. The Quality were well known for ignoring things they didn’t want to think about. Behind them, Greaves was down on his knees, encouraging the crackling fire with vigorous use of a poker. He had his coat off and his sleeves rolled up, and looked thoroughly disgusted with the whole business. Presumably in the past he’d had underlings he could call on to deal with such menial tasks.
Over by the desk, Marc had backed Katrina into a corner and was apparently addressing her about something earnest and worthy and incredibly dull. Certainly Katrina’s desperation was becoming clearer by the minute as she smiled mechanically and looked past Marc for something she could use as an excuse to escape him. Hawk looked quickly away before she could lock eyes with him, and watched thoughtfully as Alistair took a book from one of the shelves and flipped slowly through it. Jamie and Brennan were arguing quietly about something just behind him, and Alistair was going to great pains to make it clear he wasn’t listening. Hawk nudged Fisher’s elbow, and the two of them moved over to join Alistair. Hawk had a strong feeling Alistair was keeping something back, apart from the matter of the Red Marches, and this seemed as good a time as any to find out what. Alistair looked up as they approached, and nodded amiably.
“Something interesting?” said Fisher, glancing at the book Alistair was holding.
“Not really, my dear. Just old Family history.” He snapped the book shut and replaced it on the shelf. “You’re looking very fresh, Isobel. The short rest seems to have agreed with you. In fact, you look quite splendid. Tell me, is there a young man in your life yet?”
“Oh, yes,” said Fisher. “Can’t seem to get rid of him. What about you, Alistair? Do you have any Family of your own, back in the Red Marches?”
“No. They all died some time ago. I’ve been on my own ever since. But I still come, when the Family calls. As we all do.” He looked round the crowded room, and scowled disapprovingly. “Though in my day we came for the sake of the Family, not ourselves. Look at them; gathered together like so many vultures, waiting to see who can snatch the biggest titbits from the dear departed.” He stopped, looked at Hawk, and cocked an eyebrow. “No offence intended, Richard.”
“Of course,” said Hawk calmly. “Personally, Isobel and I will be grateful for whatever largesse Duncan may leave us, but that’s not why we’re here. We just wanted to meet Jamie and get reacquainted with the Family. We’ve been out of touch too long.”
“A long way to come, just for that. Lower Markham’s pretty remote, after all. In fact, I wasn’t even aware the Family tree had any branches in that area. Tell me, what branch of the Family are you descended from?”
There was an awkward pause, as Hawk chose and discarded a dozen names, and hoped desperately Fisher would bail him out. It quickly became clear that she was as thrown as he was. Hawk smiled easily at Alistair, and fought to keep his voice calm and even. “I believe we’re descended from Josiah MacNeil, on our father’s side.”
Alistair frowned. “Josiah? I was just looking at the Family tree in that book, but I don’t seem to recall ...”
“Wrong side of the blanket,” said Fisher quickly. “That’s why he left Haven in the first place. You know how these things are. ...”
“Oh, I see. Yes, of course. Happens in the best of Families....” Alistair smiled, just a little coldly and nodded to them both. “If you’ll excuse me ...”
He moved away to join Katrina and Marc. Katrina looked openly relieved at being rescued from Marc’s monologue. Hawk and Fisher looked at each other, and smiled grimly.
“That was close,” said Fisher.
“Right,” said Hawk. “If it had been any closer, it would have been behind us. We should have spent more time working out a background on the way here. It’s always the niggling little questions that catch you out.”