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sorcerer only too well. Lord and Lady Hightower were a prominent part of Haven's High Society. They
moved in all the right circles, and knew all the right people. In a very real sense, they were part of the
moneyed and influential elite who controlled Haven. They were also, surprisingly, two of Blackstone's
strongest supporters.
Lord Roderik Hightower was a stocky, medium-height man in his early fifties. His short-cropped hair
was iron grey, and his piercing dark eyes stared unyieldingly from a harsh, weatherbeaten face. Only a
few years earlier, he'd been the Chief Commander of the Low Kingdoms' army, and a legend in his own
lifetime. He always led his men into battle, and he was always the last to retreat. His grasp of strategy
was second to none, and he had guts of solid steel. A soldier's soldier. He was still solidly muscled, but
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signs of wear were finally beginning to show. He was getting slower, and old wounds gnawed at him
when it rained. He'd retired from the army rather than accept the desk job they offered him, and had
immediately looked for a new challenge with which to occupy himself. He finally settled on politics, and
took on the campaign to clean up Haven with the same determination and gusto he'd shown in his army
days.
Hawk knew him from a year or so back. There had been a series of werewolf murders on the lower
Northside, and Hawk had been one of the investigating Guards. It had been a complicated, messy case.
Hawk had finally identified the shapechanger and destroyed it, but not before three more men had been
killed. One of them was Hightower's only son. Hawk's superiors had stood by him, but Hightower still
blamed him for his son's death.
Great, thought Hawk. Just what I needed. More complications.
He looked curiously at Hightower's wife, the Lady Elaine. A very well-preserved early fifties, she wore
the latest fashion with style and dignity. Her dress was long and flowing, despite the muggy weather, and
studded with semiprecious stones. She fanned herself constantly with an intricately painted paper fan, but
otherwise seemed unaffected by the heat. She had a long mane of pure white hair and showed it off to
advantage. Her face had a strong bone structure, and she was still stunningly good-looking, despite her
years. All in all, she looked splendid, and she knew it. She held her husband's arm protectively, and
looked around Gaunt's parlor with such poise that she seemed to be suggesting that simply by entering
such a room she was most definitely slumming.
Hawk felt an almost overwhelming urge to sneak up behind her and kick her in the bustle.
Fisher leaned closer to Hawk. "Hightower;" she said softly. "Wasn't he the one who;"
"Yeah," said Hawk.
"Maybe he's forgotten by now."
"I doubt it."
Hightower looked across the room, saw Hawk and Fisher, and stiffened slightly. He spoke quietly to his
wife, who looked at the two Guards as though they'd just crawled out from under a rock. She reluctantly
let go of her husband's arm and moved away to greet Blackstone. Lord Hightower glared at Hawk for a
long moment, and then walked slowly across the length of the room to confront him. Hawk and Fisher
bowed politely. Hightower didn't bow in return. He waited for Hawk to straighten up, and then studied
him coldly.
"So. You're William's bodyguards."
"That's right, my lord," said Hawk.
"I should have had you drummed out of the Guard when I had the chance."
"You tried hard enough, my Lord," said Hawk calmly. "Luckily my superiors knew the facts of the
matter. Your son's death was a tragic accident."
"He'd still be alive if you'd done your job properly!"
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"Perhaps. I did my best, my Lord."
Hightower sniffed, and looked disparagingly at Fisher. "This is your woman, is it?"
"This is my partner and my wife," said Hawk. "Captain Fisher."
"And if you raise your voice to my husband again," said Fisher calmly, "I'll knock you flat on your arse,
right here and now."
Hightower flushed angrily, and started to splutter a reply. And then his voice died away as he looked
into Fisher's steady eyes and saw that she meant it. Hightower had a lifetime's experience of fighting men,
and knew without a shadow of a doubt that Fisher would kill him if she thought he was a threat to her
husband. He recalled some of the things he'd heard about Hawk and Fisher, and suddenly they didn't
seem quite so impossible after all. He sniffed again, turned his back on the two Guards, and walked back
to his wife with as much dignity as he could muster.
"How to make friends and influence people," said Hawk. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]