Free Guards of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk and Fisher (Hawk & Fisher) by Simon R. Green Page A

scars hidden under makeup he looked ten years younger, and somehow more at peace with himself and the world. Fisher looked at him and smiled tenderly.
    “I often wondered what you looked like, before the scars.”
    “Well?” said Hawk awkwardly. “What do you think?”
    “I think you look very handsome, my love. But then, I always did.”
    Hawk leant forward to kiss her, and Mistress Melanie yelled at him. “No touching till the makeup’s set! I don’t want to have to fix her face all over again!”
    Hawk and Fisher shared a wry smile. There was a loud knocking at the door.
    “Are you two decent?” called Commander Dubois from outside.
    “Near as we ever get,” said Hawk loudly, and nodded for Mistress Melanie to let the Commander in. Hawk and Fisher struck carefully aristocratic poses and stared haughtily at Dubois as he came in. He walked slowly over to them, and looked from one to the other and back again.
    “I’m ... impressed,” he said finally. “You might just bring this off after all. I wish we had time to give you a full briefing on how to behave, all the little tricks of etiquette and the like, but we’re way behind schedule as it is.”
    “Don’t worry,” said Hawk. “We know which fork to use, and which way to pass the port. We’ve been around.”
    “Right,” said Fisher. “You’d be surprised.”
    “Yeah, well,” said Dubois. “We’ve worked out a rough background for you. You’re going to be remote country cousins of the MacNeils; a brother and sister from the wilds of Lower Markham. That’s way out on the Eastern border, so no one should be able to trip you up on local details. Make up anything you like; they won’t know the difference. But keep it simple. You don’t want to end up contradicting each other. Also, they’ll expect a certain amount of gaucherie and unfamiliarity with the latest styles, so that should help excuse any foul-ups you do make. Now then, you’re going to have to get used to your new names. Captain Fisher can use her given name of Isobel. That’s quite a fashionable name at the moment. But we don’t seem to have a given name on the files for you, Captain Hawk.”
    “There isn’t one. I’m just Hawk.”
    “You only have the one name?”
    “I’ve had others. But I’m just Hawk now.”
    “Be that as it may,” said Dubois, in the tone of someone determined not to ask questions he’s sure he wouldn’t like the answers to. “As far as you’re concerned, from now on you’re Richard MacNeil. Got it?”
    “Richard ...” said Hawk. “Yeah, I can live with that.”
    “I’m so pleased,” said Dubois. “One last thing: Leave your axe here. We’ll supply you with a standard duelling sword. And Captain Fisher will have to go unarmed, of course. No young lady of the Quality would wear a sword. It simply isn’t done.”
    Hawk and Fisher looked at each other.
    “No axe.”
    “No sword.”
    “Tight trousers.”
    “And a bloody corset.”
    They looked hard at Dubois. “We want a bonus,” said Hawk flatly.
    “In cash,” said Fisher.
    “In our hands, before we go.”
    “I can arrange that,” said Dubois.
    Hawk looked at Fisher. “They must really be desperate.”
    “Maybe we should hit them for overtime while we’re at it,” said Fisher.
    “Don’t push your luck,” said Dubois.

3
     
    Ghosts and Memories
     
    Haven was an old city, but the dark and brooding cliffs that overlooked it were older still. Huge and forbidding, they rose out of the restless sea like grim, watchful guardians, protecting Haven on three sides from the raging storms that swept in off the sea. The waves pounded endlessly at the jagged spurs of rock, throwing spray high into the wind even on the calmest of days. Tower MacNeil stood firm and unyielding on an outcropping of dark basalt that jutted from the cliff face like a clenched fist against the encroaching sea.
    The Tower was tall and elegant, built entirely from the local white stone, with its distinctive