“So, this is the famous partnership of Hawk and Fisher. I’ve heard a lot about you, all of it good. Glad to have you with us on this case. I’m sure it’s going to be fascinating working with you. But I’m afraid there isn’t that much for you to do, actually. I’ve no doubt we’ll solve this case soon enough. We always do, you know. Still, I’m sure we can find something to keep you occupied while you’re here.”
His voice was deep, resonant and commanding.
It would be,
thought Hawk dourly.
I’ll bet he smokes a pipe as well, and cracks nuts with his bare hands. A devil with the ladies and a natural leader of men. Given a few spare minutes, 1 think I could learn to hate this guy.
“Indeed,” said Tomb. “If you don’t mind, Charles, I’d like to take this opportunity to explain to our new friends why they’re here.”
“Of course,” said Buchan. “Don’t mind me. Go straight ahead.”
He leaned back against the doorway, took a pipe from his pocket and began cleaning it, whistling softly under his breath. There was a pause, as everyone looked at Tomb. He frowned slightly, as though uncertain where to start.
“We find ourselves in a rather unusual situation, Captain Hawk, Captain Fisher. My associates and I have worked on many strange cases in our time in the Squad, but I have to say we’ve never encountered anything quite like this. To put it bluntly, someone is killing the Gods of Haven.”
Hawk and Fisher looked at each other. “Go on,” said Hawk.
“We’ve lost three Beings so far,” said Tomb. “The Dread Lord, the Sundered Man, and the Carmadine Stalker. We don’t know how they died, or why, but all three have been utterly destroyed. If we don’t come up with some explanations soon, the Gods are going to panic, and the Street of Gods could end up as a battleground. There are a lot of old grudges among the Gods, and it wouldn’t take much to set them at each other’s throats.”
“I didn’t think Gods could die,” said Fisher.
“Call them Beings, if it will help,” said the mystic Rowan. “If you’re to be of any help to us, you have to understand how the Street of Gods operates. There are all kinds of religion here—some old, some new, some just fashions of the moment. Most are based around supernatural entities who’ve gathered a following through displays of power and promises of worldly dominion. Everyone wants to be on the winning side, to have a powerful protector watching out for them. Then there are human preachers whose teachings have developed into a religion. Their Churches tend to last the longest. Ideas are much more powerful and enduring than some magical Being with an ego problem.
“Religions come and go, and we try to keep the peace. Some of them are strange, some of them are beautiful, and some we don’t understand at all. People can believe in the weirdest things if they’re frightened or desperate enough. We don’t take sides. We just try to keep the feuds and vendettas under control, and make sure that whatever troubles there may be don’t pass beyond the Street of Gods.”
“How do you do that?” said Hawk.
The sorcerer Tomb smiled. “Talking things through, playing off one faction against another, and a lot of improvising. If things start to get too out of hand, we call in the SWAT team. If that fails, we turn to the Exorcist Stone. That’s our last resort. Essentially it’s a much more powerful version of the suppressor stone the Council’s been experimenting with. The Exorcist Stone dispels all magic from an area, no matter how powerful, and can even banish a Being from this plane of existence.”
“Banish?” said Fisher. “You mean destroy?”
The sorcerer shrugged. “We don’t know. They disappear and they don’t come back. We settle for that. We use the Stone very sparingly; only when there’s a threat to the whole city. If the Beings decided we were a threat to them, they’d band together and destroy us. Stone or no Stone.”
“Is that how the Gods have been dying?” said Hawk. “Someone’s got hold of an Exorcist Stone of their own?”
“That’s impossible,” said Rowan flatly. “There’s only one Stone, and no one knows how old it is or how it was . created. If by chance there was another, we’d know about it. Every magic-user for hundreds of miles around would know about it; the sheer power involved would blaze like a beacon in their mind’s eye. No one but the three of us has access to the Exorcist Stone, and it’s impossible for any of us to misuse it. When we join the God Squad, the Council places a geas on us, a spell of compulsion, to prevent any of us using the Exorcist Stone except in the line of duty.”
“But still the Gods keep dying,” said Buchan. “Their bodies destroyed, their presence dispersed. We’ve tried to investigate, but we have no experience in such matters. We’ve got nowhere. We don’t even know what to look for. So far, the Gods’ followers are still in shock; too dazed to do anything but sit around and pray for their Gods to return. When that doesn’t happen, they’re going to get angry and start looking for scapegoats.”
“And if that wasn’t bad enough,” said Tomb, “we’re starting to hear rumblings from the other Beings. The three unexplained deaths have left them feeling vulnerable and afraid. It’s only a matter of time before they decide to take matters into their own hands. We could end up with a God War on the Street. I don’t think Haven could survive such a war. I’m not even sure the Low Kingdoms would survive.”
“So we sent to the Council for help,” said Buchan. “And they sent us you.”
“The notorious Hawk and Fisher,” said Rowan, her voice flat and scathing. “A pair of thugs in uniform. I know all about your reputation. You’re the most violent Guards in Haven. You don’t care who you hurt. No one knows how many people you’ve killed.”
“You should visit the Northside,” said Hawk. “It might open your eyes to a few things. Northsiders don’t believe in reasoned argument or diplomacy. They tend more to poisoning your wine or slipping a dagger between your ribs. Or both. We have the highest murder rate, the worst violence, and the highest general crime rate in all Haven. We’re only as hard as we have to be, to get results. That’s all the Council cares about.”
“That’s as may be,” said Tomb weightily, “but I feel it only fair to warn you that I won’t tolerate such strong-arm tactics here. They’d just get you killed; you and anyone else unfortunate enough to be with you at the time. I must insist that while you’re a part of the Squad you follow my orders at all times. Is that clear?”
“Sure,” said Fisher.
“Of course,” said Hawk.
Tomb looked at them both suspiciously. He’d expected to have to argue the point, and their giving in so easily worried him. It wasn’t in character. He pursed his lips and decided to let it pass, for the moment. “There is one other thing we need to discuss,” he said slowly. “What religion do you both follow? What do you believe in?”
“Death and taxes,” said Fisher promptly. “Everything else is negotiable.”
“Isobel and I were both raised as Christians,” said Hawk quickly, to deflect Tomb’s deepening scowl. “I’ve seen a lot of darkness in my time, but I still trust in the light.”
“Christianity,” said Tomb thoughtfully. “The Old Religion. You’re from the Northern countries originally, I take it? Yes, I thought so. I’m afraid your religion isn’t much practised in the Low Kingdoms, though of course many of its terms still survive in the language. We really must sit down and discuss this some day.”
“Christians,” said Rowan disdainfully. “I thought you people believed in love and peace, and turning the other cheek?”
“We’re not very orthodox,” said Hawk.
“Well, just remember you’re only here on sufferance.” Rowan sniffed disgustedly. “All the Guards we could have had, and they had to send us a pair of Christians.”
“Apparently you have a friend on the Council,” said Buchan.
“Councillor Adamant, to be exact,” said Tomb. “I understand you behaved very creditably while working as his bodyguards during the election. Though why he thinks that should qualify you to work on the Street of Gods is beyond me.”
“We fought a God on his behalf,” said Hawk calmly. “The Abomination, the Lord of the Gulfs. We helped kill it.”
A sudden silence fell across the room. The three members of the God Squad looked at Hawk and Fisher almost respectfully.
“That was you?” said Buchan.
“We had some help,” said Hawk. Fisher’s mouth twitched.
“I don’t believe it,” said Rowan flatly.
Hawk looked at her calmly. “That’s your problem, lass.” He turned away to look at Tomb and Buchan. “Fisher and I aren’t exactly strangers to the Street of Gods. We’ve been here before. And whilst we might not have much experience in dealing with Beings, we do know how to track down murderers. That’s our job. We’re very good at it.”
Rowan started to say something scathing, and then stopped suddenly and looked at Tomb. “People are gathering out on the Street. They seem angry, disturbed. I don’t like the feel of it, Tomb.”
The sorcerer nodded slowly. “I can See them, Rowan. Two large factions, closing on each other. Damn. There’s going to be another riot. Charles, Rowan. Gather your equipment. Hawk and Fisher, come with me. You’re about to see what happens when the rules break down on the Street of Gods. You should find it an interesting experience. If you survive it.”
Out on the Street of Gods, everything felt different. There was a vague unfocused tension on the air, and the crowding buildings felt grim and oppressive. Hawk and Fisher hurried along beside the God Squad, weapons drawn and at the ready. Tomb took the point, striding confidently in the lead, his robe of sorcerer’s black billowing impressively around his stocky frame. He was smiling calmly, his stance relaxed and at ease.
Rowan hurried along at his side, stretching her legs to keep up with him. She carried a bulging satchel on one shoulder, and her face had taken on an uncomplicated expression of bulldog determination. Away from Tomb’s comfortable study, she looked stronger, more focused, almost elemental in her single-mindedness. Charles Buchan strolled along behind them, his long legs easily meeting their pace. He wore a brightly polished chain-mail vest, and a long sword on his left hip. He carried himself well, his bearing calm and controlled. His face was a smiling, pleasant mask, but his eyes were very cold.
Hawk kept a watchful eye on the Squad as they hurried down the Street of Gods. Even with their practised professionalism, he could all but see the tension rising off them. He started to wonder if he ought to feel more worried himself. After all, this was their territory; if they were worried, there was probably a damned good reason for it. The Street itself seemed increasingly uneasy. There were fewer people around than previously, and they hurried on their way with heads bowed and eyes downcast. The street preachers were crying of universal death and destruction. A painted clown with razor blades buried in his bleeding eyes sang a bitter song of love and loss. Two shadows with nothing to cast them tore at each other like maddened animals. A tall angular building began to melt and run away like boiling wax, while the gargoyles on its guttering screamed in agony.
Hawk increased his pace and moved in beside the sorcerer Tomb. “Pardon me, sir Tomb, but if my partner and I are heading into a dangerous situation, I think we have a right to know what we’re getting into.”
“Of course,” said Tomb. “You’ll have to forgive us, Captain, but I’m afraid we’re not used to working with strangers. Rowan and I both have the Sight, the ability to see and sense things at a distance. It seems a longstanding rivalry between two religions has boiled over into open fighting on the Street. The way things are, if we don’t put a stop to it quickly, it’ll develop into a full-blown riot, and the Beings themselves may be tempted to get involved. Normally, things wouldn’t get this bad this quickly, but with three dead Gods and the murderer still at large, tempers are running short.”
“Wait a minute,” said Hawk. “If things are that serious shouldn’t we call in the SWAT team?”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Tomb. “It’s only a riot. We can handle it.”
“Famous last words,” muttered Fisher behind them.
Hawk gave Tomb a hard look, but the sorcerer seemed perfectly serious. “All right,” said Hawk, “Give me some background on this. You said two religions. Which religions?”
“They’re based on two lesser Beings,” said Tomb. “Neither of them especially powerful or important, but both with long-established followings. Dusk the Devourer is head of a no-frills nihilist cult. Everything is vile and awful, the world’s going to be destroyed, and only the faithful will be saved and transported to a better world. I can’t prove it, but I’m fairly sure Dusk itself is a manic-depressive.
“The other Being is the Chrysalis. It’s a huge cocoon about twenty feet long. It’s supposed to perform the occasional miracle, but I’ve never seen any. The Chrysalis’ followers believe that eventually the cocoon will open and the God within will emerge in all its glory to purge the world of evil. Whether it wants to be purged or not. They’ve been watching the cocoon for over four hundred years, but nothing’s happened yet.
“Interestingly enough, each religion is the other’s particular nemesis. Every God must have its Devil, though I’ve never been sure why. Good business, I suppose. Anyway, normally the two groups of followers content themselves with blazing sermons, veiled insults in the Street, and the occasional scuffle after the taverns have closed. But with things as they are, nothing’s normal anymore. The Street of Gods is like a forest in a drought, waiting for a single spark to set everything alight.”