Guards of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk and Fisher (Hawk & Fisher)
Simon R. Green
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
WOLF IN THE FOLD
Chapter 1 - A Head Start
Chapter 2 - Fenris Gone to Ground
Chapter 3 - Ghosts and Memories
Chapter 4 - Wolf in the Fold
Chapter 5 - Plans and Secrets
Chapter 6 - A Dead Man, Talking
Chapter 7 - Death of a Lonely Man
Chapter 8 - Saying Goodbye
GUARD AGAINST DISHONOR
Chapter 1 - Chacal
Chapter 2 - Going Down
Chapter 3 - Talking Peace and War
Chapter 4 - A Matter of Trust
Chapter 5 - Under Siege
Chapter 6 - Naming the Traitor
Chapter 7 - Scapegoat
Chapter 8 - Cutting Loose
Chapter 9 - under the Masks
Chapter 10 - Loose Ends
THE BONES OF HAVEN
Chapter 1 - Hell Wing
Chapter 2 - Something to Believe in
Chapter 3 - Hostages
Chapter 4 - Something in the Dark
Chapter 5 - At Play in the Fields of the Lord
Chapter 6 - Good byes
Guards of Haven
The Adventures of Hawk & Fisher
In the dark city of Haven, where everything’s for sale,
city Guard captains Hawk & Fisher cannot be bought.
A husband-and-wife team with fast blades and even faster mouths,
who dare to cleanse Haven’s corrupted soul. Together they are
the perfect crimebusters ... with a touch of magic.
The war against crime is forever.
Hawk & Fisher
And don’t miss the first three Adventures of Hawk & Fisher in
Swords of Haven
Praise for The Adventures of Hawk & Fisher
“Green’s very different approach to writing fantasy adventure—bearing a strong resemblance to the private eye novel—works surprisingly well.”
—Chronicle
“Simon R. Green’s books are fun books that grab you, suck you in, and don’t let you go. They are always fun, and the Hawk & Fisher books are no exception. Hawk and Fisher are a couple of honest, straight-talking, tough-as-nails Guards who use steel as often as wits to keep themselves out of trouble. They bully their way through situations, often just letting their reputations work their magic. The plots are straightforward with just enough of a twist to keep you guessing until the end. If you’ve read and enjoyed Green’s other books, you don’t want to miss these books. If you haven’t read Green before, Swords of Haven is a good way to get a taste of his style of writing.”—SF Site
“Green has a marvelous gift of leavening grim situations with wicked wit.”—Prism UK
Praise for Simon R. Green’s
Deathstalker novels
Deathstalker
“A huge novel of sweeping scope, told with a strong sense of legend.”
—Locus
Deathstalker Rebellion
“Derring-do, space battles, and wry banter aplenty ... an eminently satisfying space opera.”—Booklist
Deathstalker War
“The action is fast and frenzied.... Manages to consistently entertain, with some wondrously quirky and warped characters.”—Locus
Deathstalker Destiny
“Be prepared for an incredible romp through a wonderful universe... filled with outrageous and incredibly powerful heroes and villains, swords and disruptors, and more lethal creatures than you can imagine.”—SF Site
Deathstalker Legacy
“Rip-roaring space opera with dastardly villains, exciting battles, nefarious plots, and strong-willed heroes.”—Chronicle
Deathstalker Return
“Green ably juggles elements of sword-and-sorcery, high fantasy, humorous quest, and SF, with homages to authors such as Moorcock, Adams, Cordwainer Smith, and Zelazny.... A fun, twisty romp with surprises around every corner.”—Publishers Weekly
Deathstalker Coda
“Deathstalker Coda is the latest, last, and possibly even the best installment of Simon R. Green’s sprawling space opera, a story overflowing with over-the-top action, memorable characters, bizarre twists, unexpected revelations, monumental battles, huge armies, and visceral fight scenes.”—SF Site
Praise for Simon R. Green’s novels of the Nightside
Something from the Nightside
“The book is a fast, fun little roller coaster of a story—and its track runs through neighborhoods that make the Twilight Zone look like Mayberry. Simon R. Green’s Nightside is a macabre and thoroughly entertaining world that makes a bizarre and gleefully dangerous backdrop for a quick-moving tale. Fun stuff!”—Jim Butcher, author of the Dresden Files novels
Agents of Light and Darkness
“The Nightside novels are a great blending of Lovecraft and Holmes. [Agents of Light and Darkness] is an action-packed thriller, a delightful private-eye investigative fantasy tale.”—Midwest Book Review
Nightingale’s Lament
“Filled with supernatural creatures of various sorts, the action leavened by occasional bits of dry humor, the Taylor series has proven to be a welcome break from the endless quasimedieval intrigues that dominate contemporary fantasy.”—Chronicle
Hex and the City
“Green has a flair for character creation, and his knack for evocative, memorable names is tremendous. His postmodern mix-and-match style allows him to blend in a sizable Casablanca homage as well as quantum physics.”—SFRevu
Paths Not Taken
“An entertaining adventure.”—Chronicle
Sharper Than a Serpent’s Tooth
“No one writes like Simon R. Green. His style is infectious, energetic, over-the-top without the slightest hint of restraint. He writes large on a scale that refuses boundaries, turning even the slightest act into something grand and epic.”—The Green Man Review
BOOKS BY SIMON R. GREEN
THE DEATHSTALKER SERIES
Twilight of the Empire
Deathstalker
Deathstalker Rebellion
Deathstalker War
Deathstalker Honor
Deathstalker Destiny
Deathstalker Legacy
Deathstalker Return
Deathstalker Coda
THE ADVENTURES OF HAWK & FISHER
Swords of Haven
Guards of Haven
ALSO BY SIMON R. GREEN
Blue Moon Rising
Beyond the Blue Moon
Blood and Honor
Down Among the Dead Men
Shadows Fall
ACE BOOKS
THE NIGHTSIDE SERIES
Something from the Nightside
Agents of Light and Darkness
Nightingale’s Lament
Hex and the City
Paths Not Taken
Sharper Than a Serpent’s Tooth
Hell to Pay
ROC
Published by New American Library, a division of
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Published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. These novels were previously published in a Roc mass-market edition and separately in Ace paperback editions by The Berkeley Publishing Group.
First Roc Trade Paperback Printing, September 2007
Wolf in the Fold copyright © Simon R. Green, 1991
eISBN : 978-1-429-58091-5
Guard Against Dishonor copyright © Simon R. Green, 1991
The Bones of Haven copyright © Simon R. Green, 1992
All rights reserved
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PUBLISHER’S NOTE
These are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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WOLF IN THE FOLD
1
A Head Start
When you are tired of life, come to Haven. And someone will kill you.
The city port of Haven was a bad place to be after dark. It wasn’t much better during the day. If there was a viler, more corrupt and crime-ridden city in the whole of the Low Kingdoms, its existence must have been kept secret to avoid depressing the general populace. If Haven hadn’t been settled squarely on the main trade routes, and made itself such a vital part of the Low Kingdoms’ economy, it would undoubtedly have been forcibly evacuated and burnt to the ground long ago, like any other plague spot. As it was, the city thrived and prospered, brimming with crime, intrigue, and general decadence.
It also made a lot of money from tourism.
Such a dangerous city needed dangerous men and women to keep it under something like control. So from Devil’s Hook to the Street of Gods, from the Docks to High Tory, the city Guard patrolled the streets of Haven with cold steel always to hand, and did the best they could under impossible conditions. Apart from the murderers, muggers, rapists, and everyday scum, they were also up against organized crime, institutionalized brutality and rogue sorcerers; not to mention rampant corruption within their own ranks. They did the best they could, and for the most part learned to be content with little victories.
They should have been the best of the best: men and women with iron nerves, high morals, and implacable wills. Unstoppable heroes, ready to take on any odds to overthrow injustice. But given the low pay, appalling working conditions and high mortality rate, the Guard settled for what it could get. Most were out-of-work mercenaries, marking time until the next war, but there was always a ripe mixture of thugs, idealists, and drifters, all with their own reasons for joining a losing side. Revenge was a common motive. Haven was a breeding ground for victims.
The Guard squadroom was a large, cheerless office at the rear of Guard Headquarters. It was windowless, like the rest of the building. Windows made the place too vulnerable to assault. The Headquarters made do with narrow archery slits and ever-burning oil lamps. The walls and ceilings were covered with grime from the lamps and open fireplaces, but no one gave a damn. It fitted the general mood of the place. Half the squadroom had been taken up by oaken filing cabinets, spilling over from the cramped Records Division. At any hour of the day or night, it was a safe bet you’d find somebody desperately searching for the one piece of paper that might help them crack a case. There was a lot of useful information in the files. If you could find it. They hadn’t been properly organized in over seventeen years, when most of the original files were lost in a fire-bombing.
Rumour had it that if ever the files were successfully reorganized, there’d just be another fire-bombing. So no one bothered.
And three times a day, regular as the most expensive clockwork, the squadroom filled with Guard Captains waiting for the day’s briefing before going out on their shift. It was now almost ten o’clock of the evening, and twenty-eight men and women were waiting impatiently for the Guard Commander to make his appearance and give them the bad news. They knew the news would be bad. It always was.
Hawk and Fisher, husband and wife and Captains in the Guard for more than five years, stood together at the back of the room, enjoying the warmth of the fire and trying not to think about the cold streets outside. Hawk was tall, dark, and no longer handsome. The series of old scars that marred the right side of his face gave him a bitter, sinister look, heightened by the black silk patch over his right eye. He was lean and wiry rather than muscular, and building a stomach, but even standing still the man looked dangerous. Anyone who survived five years as a Captain had to be practically unkillable, but even those who didn’t know his reputation tended to give him plenty of room. There was something about Hawk. something cold and unyielding, that gave even the hardest bravo cause to think twice.
He wore the standard furs and black cloak of the Guard’s winter uniform with little style and less grace. Even on a good day Hawk tended to look as though he’d got dressed in the dark. In a hurry. He wore his dark hair at shoulder length, swept back from his forehead and tied at the nape with a silver clasp. He’d only just turned thirty, but already there were streaks of grey in his hair. On his right hip Hawk carried a short-handled axe instead of a sword. He was very good with an axe. He’d had lots of practice.
Isobel Fisher leant companionably against him, putting an edge on a throwing knife with a whetstone. She was tall, easily six feet in height, and her long blond hair fell to her waist in a single thick plait, weighted at the tip with a polished steel ball. She was heading into her late twenties, and handsome rather than beautiful. There was a rawboned harshness to her face that suggested strength and stubbornness, only slightly softened by her deep blue eyes and generous mouth. Sometime in the past, something had scoured all the human weaknesses out of her, and it showed. She wore a sword on her hip in a battered scabbard, and her prowess with that blade was already legendary in a city used to legends.
A steady murmur of conversation rose and fell around Hawk and Fisher as the Guard Captains brought each other up to date on the latest gossip and exchanged ritual complaints about the lousy coffee and the necessity of working the graveyard shift. As in most cities, the night brought out the worst in Haven. But the graveyard shift paid the best, and there were always those who needed the extra money. As winter approached and the trade routes shut down one by one, choked by snow and ice and bitter storms, prices in the markets rose accordingly. Which was why every winter Hawk and Fisher, and others like them, worked from ten at night to six the next morning. And complained about it a lot.
Hawk leant back against the wall, his
arms folded and his chin resting on his chest. He was never at his best at the beginning of a shift, and the recent change in schedules had just made him worse. Hawk hated having his sleeping routine changed. Fisher nudged him with her elbow, and his head came up an inch. He looked quickly round the squadroom, satisfied himself the Commander wasn’t there yet, and let his chin sink back onto his chest. His eye closed. Fisher sighed, and looked away. She just hoped he wouldn’t start snoring again. She checked the edge on her knife, and plucked a hair from Hawk’s head to test it. He didn’t react.
The door flew open and Commander Dubois stalked in, clutching a thick sheaf of papers. The Guard Captains quieted down and came to some sort of attention. Fisher put away her knife and whetstone and elbowed Hawk sharply. He straightened up with a grunt, and fixed his bleary eye on Dubois as the Commander glared out over the squadroom. Dubois was short and stocky and bald as an egg. He’d been a Commander for twenty-three years and it hadn’t improved his disposition one bit. He’d been a hell of a thief-taker in his day, but he’d taken one chance too many, and half a dozen thugs took it in turn to stamp on his legs till they broke. The doctors said he’d never walk again. They didn’t know Dubois. These days he spent most of his time overseeing operations, fighting the Council for a higher budget, and training new recruits. After three weeks of his slave-driving and caustic wit most recruits looked forward to hitting the streets of Haven as the lesser of two evils. It was truly said among the Guard that if you could survive Dubois, you could survive anything.
