Simon R. Green - Haven 06 - Bones of Haven

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Haven - 06 - Bones of Haven
Simon R. Green
Haven is an old city, but still growing, with new houses built on the bones of the old. But some parts of
Haven are older than others and have never been properly put to rest. Down below the surface of the
city, the remains of older structures stir uneasily in their sleep and dream dark thoughts of the way
things used to be. There are new buildings all over Haven, and some of them stand on unquiet
graves…
Chapter One
Hell Wing
Rain had come to Haven with the spring, and a sharp, gusting wind blew it in off the sea. The rain
hammered down with mindless ferocity, bouncing back from the cobbles and running down the gutters
in raging torrents. Water dripped from every surface, gushed out of drainpipes, and flew in graceful
arcs from carved gargoyle mouths on the smarter buildings. It had been raining on and off for weeks,
despite everything the city weather wizards could do, and everyone was heartily sick of it. The rain
forced itself past slates and tiles and gurgled down chimneys, making fires sputter and smoke. Anyone
venturing out into the streets was quickly soaked, and even inside the air seemed saturated with
moisture. People gritted their teeth and learned to ignore damp clothing and the constant drumming of
rain on the roof. It was the rainy season, and the city endured it as the city endured so many other
afflictions—with stubborn defiance and aimless, sullen anger.
And yet things were not as gloomy in the port city of Haven as they might have been. The rain-soaked
streets were decked with flags and bunting and decorations, their bright and gaudy colors blazing
determinedly through the grayness of the day. Two Kings had come to Haven, and the city was putting
on an attractive face and enjoying itself as best it could. It would take more than a little rain to dampen
Haven's spirits when it had an excuse to celebrate. A public holiday had been declared from most jobs,
on the grounds that the eager citizens would have taken one anyway if it hadn't been granted, and
people held street parties between the downpours and boosted the takings at all the inns and taverns.
Tarpaulins were erected in the streets wherever possible, to ward off the rain, and beneath them could
be found street fairs and conjurers and play-actors and all manner of entertainments.
Of course, not everyone got to take the day off. The city Guard still went about its business, enforcing
the law and protecting the good citizens from pickpockets and villains and outrages, and, most
important of all, from each other. Haven was a harsh, cruel city swarming with predators, even during
a time of supposedly universal celebration. So Hawk and Fisher, husband and wife and Captains in the
city Guard, made their way through the dismal gray streets of the Northside and wished they were
somewhere else. Anywhere else. They huddled inside their thick black cloaks, and pulled the hoods
well forward to keep the rain out of their faces.
Hawk was tall, dark, and no longer handsome. He wore a black silk patch over his right eye, and a
series of old scars ran down the right side of his face, giving him a cold, sinister look. Huddled inside
his soaking wet black cloak, he looked like a rather bedraggled raven that had known better days. It
had to be said that even when seen at his best, he didn't look like much. He was lean and wiry rather
than muscular, and was beginning to build a stomach. He wore his dark hair at shoulder length, swept
roughly back from his forehead and tied at the nape of his neck with a silver clasp. He'd only just
entered his thirties, but already there were streaks of gray in his hair. It would have been easy to
dismiss him as just another bravo, perhaps already past his prime, but there was a dangerous alertness
in the way he carried himself, and the cold gaze of his single eye was disturbingly direct. He carried a
short-handled axe on his right hip, instead of a sword. He was very good with an axe. He'd had lots of
practice.
Isobel Fisher walked at his side, unconsciously echoing his pace and stance with the naturalness of
long companionship. She was tall, easily six foot 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 in her late twenties, and
handsome rather than beautiful, with a raw-boned harshness to her face that contrasted strongly with
her deep blue eyes and generous mouth. Some time ago, something had scoured all the human
weaknesses out of her, and it showed. Even wrapped in her thick cloak against the driving rain, she
moved with a determined, aggressive grace, and her right hand never strayed far from the sword on her
hip.
People gave them plenty of room as they approached, and were careful to look away rather than risk
catching the Guards' eyes. None of them wanted to be noticed. It wasn't healthy. Hawk and Fisher were
feared and respected as two of the toughest and most honest Guards in Haven, and everyone in the
Northside had something to hide. It was that kind of area. Hawk glared balefully about him as he and
Fisher strode along, and stamped his boots unnecessarily hard on the water-slick cobbles. Fisher
chuckled quietly.
"Cheer up, Hawk. Only another month or so of utter misery, and the rainy season will be over. Then
you can start looking forward to the utter misery of the boiling hot summer. Always something to look
forward to in Haven."
Hawk sniffed. "I hate it when you're this cheerful. It's not natural."
"Me, or the rain?"
"Both." Hawk stepped carefully over a tangled mass of bunting that had fallen from a nearby building.
"I can't believe people are still going ahead with celebrations in this downpour."
Fisher shrugged. "Any excuse for a holiday. Besides, they can hardly postpone it, can they? The Kings
will only be here two more days. Then it'll all be over, and we can get back to what passes for normal
here in the Northside."
Hawk just grunted, not trusting himself to any more than that. His job was hard enough without extra
complications. Haven was without doubt the most corrupt and crime-ridden city in the Low Kingdoms,
and the Northside was its dark and rotten heart. No crime was too vile or too vicious to be overlooked,
and if you could make any kind of profit out of it, you could be sure someone was doing it somewhere.
And double-crossing his partner at the same time, like as not. Violence was commonplace, along with
rape and murder and protection rackets. Conspiracies blossomed in the shadows, talking treason in
lowered voices behind locked doors and shuttered windows. Throughout Haven, the city Guard was
stretched thin to breaking point and beyond, but somehow they managed to keep a lid on things, most
of the time. Usually by being even harsher and more violent than the people they fought. When they
weren't taking sweeteners to look the other way, of course. All of which made it increasingly difficult
for anyone to figure out why the Parliaments of both the Low Kingdoms and Outremer had insisted on
their respective Kings coming to Haven to sign the new Peace Treaty between the two countries.
It was true that the Peace Talks at which the Treaty had been hammered out had taken place in Haven,
but only after the Guard had protected the negotiators from treacherous assault by mercenaries and
terrorists. There were a great many people in both countries who had vested interests in seeing the
Peace Talks fail, and they'd shown no hesitation in turning Haven into their own private battleground.
Hawk and Fisher had managed to smash the worst conspiracy and preserve the Talks, but it had been a
very close thing, and everyone knew it. Everyone except the two Parliaments apparently. They'd set
their minds on Haven, and weren't going to be talked out of it. Probably because they simply couldn't
believe what their Advisors were telling them about the city.
Upon hearing of the singular honor being bestowed on their fair city, Haven's city Councilors
practically had a collective coronary, and then began issuing orders in a white-hot panic. No one had
ever seen them do so much so quickly. One of the first things they did was to give the Guard strict
instructions to get all the villains off the streets as quickly as possible, and throw the lot of them in
gaol, for any or no reason. They'd worry about trials and sentences later, if at all. For the moment, all
that mattered was rounding up as many villains as possible and keeping them safely out of the way
until the Kings had left Haven. The prison Governor came closer to apoplexy than a coronary, though
it was a near thing, and demanded hysterically where he was supposed to put all these extra bodies in
his already overcrowded prison. That, he was curtly informed, was his problem. So the Guards had
gone out into the streets all over the city, backed up by as many men-at-arms and militia as the Council
could put together, and started picking up villains and hauling them away. In some cases where their
lawyers objected strongly, the Guards took them in as well. Word soon got around, and those
miscreants who managed to avoid the sweeps decided it would be wisest to keep their heads down for
a while, and quietly disappeared. The crime rate plummeted, overnight.
Which is not to say the city streets suddenly became peaceful and law-abiding. This was Haven, after
all. But the usual petty crimes and everyday violence could be more or less controlled by the Guard
and kept well away from the Kings and their retinues, which was all that mattered as far as the Council
was concerned. No one wanted to think what the city would be like after the Kings had left and most
of the villains had to be released from prison due to lack of evidence. To be honest, few people in
Haven were thinking that far ahead. In the meantime, Hawk and Fisher patrolled their usual beat in the
Northside, and were pleasantly surprised at the change. There were stretches when no one tried to kill
anyone else for hours on end.
"What do you think about this Peace Treaty?" said Hawk idly. "Do you think it's going to work?"
Fisher shrugged. "Maybe. As I understand it, the two sides have hammered out a deal that both of them
hate but both of them can live with, and that's the best anyone can hope for. Now that they've agreed
on a definitive boundary line for the first time in centuries, it should put an end to the recent border
clashes at least. Too many good men were dying out there in the borderlands, defending a shaky line
on a faded old map to satisfy some politician's pride."
Hawk nodded. "I just wish they'd chosen somewhere else for their signing ceremony. Just by being
here, the Kings are a magnet for trouble. Every fanatic, assassin, and terrorist for miles around will see
this as their big chance, and head straight for Haven with blood in their eyes and steel in their hands."
"Come on," said Fisher. "You've got to admit, the Kings' security is pretty impressive. They've got four
heavy-duty sorcerers with them, a private army of men-at-arms, and a massive deputation of honor
guards from the Brotherhood of Steel. I could conquer a minor country with a security force that size."
Hawk sniffed, unimpressed. "No security is ever perfect; you know that. All it needs is one fanatic
with a knife and a martyr's complex in the right place at the right time, and we could have two dead
Kings on our hands. And you can bet Haven would end up taking all the blame, not the security
people. They should never have come here, Isobel. I've got a real bad feeling about this."
"You have bad feelings about everything."
"And I'm usually right."
Isobel looked at him knowingly. "You're just miffed because they wouldn't let any Haven Guards into
their security force."
"Damn right I'm annoyed. We know the situation here; they don't. But I can't really blame them, much
as I'd like to. Everyone knows the Guard in this city is rife with corruption, and after our last case, no
one trusts anyone anymore. After all, if even we can come under suspicion…"
"We proved our innocence, and exposed the real traitor."
"Doesn't make a blind bit of difference." Hawk scowled and shook his head slowly. "I still can't
believe how ready everyone was to accept we were guilty. After all we've done for this city…
Anyway, from now on, there'll always be someone ready to point the finger and mutter about no smoke
without fire."
"Anyone points a finger at me," said Fisher calmly, "I'll cut it off, and make him eat it. Now, stop
worrying about the Kings; they're not our responsibility."
They walked a while in silence, kicking occasionally at loose debris in the street. The rain seemed to
be letting up a bit. Every now and again someone up on a roof would throw something down at them,
but Hawk and Fisher just ignored it. Thanks to the overhanging upper floors of the buildings, it was
rare for anything to come close enough to do any harm, and there was no point in trying to chase after
whoever was responsible. By the time the Guards could get up to the roof, the culprits would be gone,
and both sides knew it. They were in more danger from a suddenly emptied chamber pot from an upper
window. You had to expect that kind of thing in the Northside. Even if you were the infamous Hawk
and Fisher.
Hawk scowled as he strode along, brooding over recent events. It wasn't that long ago that most of
Haven had been convinced he'd gone berserk, killing anyone who got in the way of his own personal
vendetta outside the law. It hadn't been true, and eventually he'd proved it, but that wasn't the point. He
knew he had a reputation for violence; he'd gone to great pains to establish it. It kept the villains and
the hardcases off his back, and made the small fry too nervous to give him any trouble. But even so,
the speed with which people believed he'd gone bad had disturbed him greatly. For the first time, he'd
seen himself as others saw him, and he didn't like what he saw.
"We never used to be this hard," he said quietly. "These days, every time I look at someone I'm
thinking about the best way to take them out before they can get to me. Whether they're behaving
aggressively or not. Whenever I talk to someone, part of me is listening for a lie or an evasion. And
more and more, I tend to assume a suspect is bound to be guilty, unless hard evidence proves them
innocent."
"In the Northside, they usually are guilty," said Fisher.
"That's not the point! I always said I'd never laid a finger on an honest man, or killed anyone who
didn't need killing. I'm not so sure of that anymore. I'm not infallible. I make mistakes. Only thing is,
my mistakes could cost someone their life. When we first took on this job, I really thought we could do
some good, make a difference, help protect the people who needed protection. But now, everyone I
meet gets weighed as a potential enemy, and I care more about nailing villains than I do about
protecting their victims. We've changed, Isobel. The job has changed us. Maybe… we should think
about leaving Haven. I don't like what we've become."
Fisher looked at him anxiously. "We're only as hard as we need to be to get the job done. This city is
full of human wolves, ready to tear us apart at the first sign of weakness. It's only our reputation for
sudden death and destruction that keeps them at bay. Remember what it was like when we first started?
We had to prove ourselves every day, fighting and killing every hardcase with a sword and a grudge,
just to earn the right to walk the streets in peace. Now they've learned to leave us alone, we can get
things done. Look, we're a reflection of the people we're guarding. If they start acting civilized and
playing by the rule book, so will I. Until then, we just do what we have to, to get the job done."
"But that's the point, Isobel. Why do the job? What difference does it make? For every villain we put
away, there are a dozen more we can't touch who are just waiting to take his place. We bust our arses
every day, and nothing ever changes. Except us."
"Now, don't start that again. We have made a difference. Sure, things are bad now, but they were much
worse before we came. And they'd be worse again if we left. You can't expect to change centuries of
accumulated evil and despair in a few short years. We do the best we can, and protect the good people
every chance we get. Anything above and beyond that is a bonus. You've got to be realistic, Hawk."
"Yeah. Maybe." Hawk stared straight ahead of him, looking through the driving rain without seeing it.
"I've lost my way, Isobel. I don't like what I am, what I'm doing, what I've become. This isn't what I
meant to do with my life, but I don't know what else to do. We are needed here; you're right about that.
But some days I look in the mirror and I don't recognize my face at all. I hear people talking about
things I've done and it doesn't sound like me. Not the me I remember being, before we came here. I've
lost my way. And I don't know how to find it again."
Fisher scowled unhappily, and decided she'd better change the subject. "I know what your problem is.
You're just brooding because I've put you on another diet."
Hawk smiled in spite of himself. "Right. I must be getting old, lass; I never used to put on weight like
this. I can't believe I've had to let my belt out another notch. When I was younger I had so much
energy I used to burn off food as fast as I could eat it. These days, I only have to look at a dessert and
my waistline expands. I should never have admitted turning thirty. That was when the rot set in."
"Never mind, dear," said Fisher. "When we get back home tonight I'll put out your pipe and slippers,
and you can have a nice doze in your chair by the fire before dinner."
Hawk looked at her. "Don't push your luck, Isobel."
She laughed. "Well, it serves you right. Anyone would think you were on your last legs and doddering
towards the grave, to hear you talk. There's nothing wrong with you that a good fight in a good cause
couldn't put right. In the meantime, no desserts, cut down on the meat, and lots of nice healthy salads.
And no more snacks in between meals, either."
"Why does everything that's good for you have to taste so damned bland?" complained Hawk. "And I
don't care if lettuce is good for me; I'm not eating it. Flaming rabbit food…"
They continued on their way through the Northside, doing their rounds and showing their faces. Hawk
seemed in a somewhat better mood but was still unusually quiet. Fisher decided to let him brood, and
not push it. He'd had these moods before, and always snapped out of it eventually. Together, they
checked out three burglaries, and lectured one shopkeeper on the need for bolts as well as locks on his
doors and window shutters. None of the burglaries were anything special, just routine break-ins. Not
much point in looking for clues. Sooner or later they'd catch someone in the act, and he'd confess to a
whole bunch of others crimes and that would be that. After the burglaries, they got involved in a series
of assaults, sorting out tavern brawls, muggings, and finally a domestic dispute. Hawk hated being
dragged into domestic quarrels. You couldn't win. Whatever you did was bound to be wrong.
They approached the location of the domestic dispute cautiously, but at least this time there was no
flying crockery to dodge. Or flying knives. The address was a poky little apartment in the middle of a
row of shabby tenements. Neighbors watched silently as the two Guards entered the building. Hawk
took the lead and kept a careful eye on the house's occupants as they made way before him. Guards
were the common enemy of all Northsiders; they represented and enforced all the laws and authority
that kept the poor in their place. As a result, Guards were targets for anyone with a grudge or a mad on,
and one of the nastier surprise attacks these days was the Haven mud pie—a mixture of lye and grease.
Thrown at close range, the effect could be devastating. The lye burned through clothing as though it
wasn't there, and if it hit bare skin it could eat its way right down to the bone. The grease made the lye
stick like glue. Even a small mud pie could put a Guard in hospital for weeks, if his partner didn't get
him to a doctor fast enough. And doctors tended to be few and far between in the Northside. The last
man to aim a mud pie at Hawk had got both his arms broken, but there were any number of borderline
crazies in the Northside, just waiting to be pushed over the edge by one frustration too many. So Hawk
and Fisher stayed close together and kept a wary eye on shadowed corners and doors left just a little
too far ajar.
They made their way through the hall and up the narrow stairs without incident. Mothers and small
children watched in stony silence, while from above came the sound of domestic unrest. A man and a
woman were shouting and screeching at the tops of their voices, but Hawk and Fisher didn't let
themselves be hurried. As long as the couple were still shouting they weren't searching for blunt
instruments or something with a sharp edge. It was when things went suddenly quiet that you had to
worry. Hawk and Fisher reached the landing and strode down the hall, stepping over small children
playing unconcernedly on the floor. They found the door with the right number, the sounds from
within made it pretty hard to miss. Hawk hammered on the door with his fist, and an angry male voice
broke off from its tirade just long enough to tell him to go to hell. Hawk tried again, and got a torrent
of abuse for his trouble. He shrugged, drew his axe, and kicked the door in.
A man and a woman looked round in surprise as Hawk and Fisher stood in the doorway taking in the
scene. The woman was less than average height, and more than a little undernourished, with a badly
bruised face and a bloody nose. She was trying to stop the flowing blood with a grubby handkerchief,
and not being very successful. The man was easily twice her size, with muscles on his muscles, and he
was brandishing a fist the size of a mallet. His face was dark with rage, and he glared sullenly at Hawk
and Fisher as he took in their Guards' cloaks.
"What are you doing here? You've no business in this house, so get out. And if you've damaged my
door I'll see you pay for the repairs!"
Hawk smiled coldly. "If you've damaged that woman, you'll pay for it. Now, stand back from her and
put down that fist, and we'll all have a nice little chat."
"This is family business," said the man quickly, before the woman could say anything. He lowered his
摘要：

Haven-06-BonesofHavenSimonR.GreenHavenisanoldcity,butstillgrowing,withnewhousesbuiltonthebonesoftheold.ButsomepartsofHavenareolderthanothersandhaveneverbeenproperlyputtorest.Downbelowthesurfaceofthecity,theremainsofolderstructuresstiruneasilyintheirsleepanddreamdarkthoughtsofthewaythingsusedtobe.The...

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