"That looks nice," said Hawk.
"Very nice," said Fisher. "I wonder if we're invited to dinner."
"I doubt it," said Hawk. "We probably get scraps and leftovers in the kitchen, afterwards. Unless Blackstone decides he wants a food taster, and I think Gaunt would probably take that as an insult to his culinary arts."
"Ah, well," said Fisher. "At least now we can sit down for a while. My feet are killing me."
"Right," said Hawk. "It's been a long day;"
They drew up chairs by the empty fireplace, dropped into them, and stretched out their legs. The chairs were almost indecently comfortable and supportive. Hawk and Fisher sat in silence a while, almost dozing. The unrelenting muggy heat weighed down on them, making sleep seem very tempting. The minutes passed pleasantly and Hawk stretched lazily. And then Katherine Blackstone came hurrying into the parlor, and Hawk sat up with a jolt as he saw the worry in her face.
"I'm sorry to trouble you," said Katherine hesitantly.
"Not at all," said Hawk. "That's what we're here for."
"It's my husband," said Katherine. "He went into our room to get changed while I paid a visit to the bathroom. When I came back, the door to our room was locked from the inside. I knocked and called, but there was no answer. I'm afraid he may have been taken ill or something."
Hawk and Fisher looked quickly at each other, and got to their feet.
"I think we'd better take a look," said Hawk. "Just in case. If you'd show us the way, please;"
Katherine Blackstone nodded quickly, and led them out of the parlor and into the hall. Hawk's hand rested on the axe at his side. He had a bad feeling about this. Katherine hurried down the hall and up the stairs at the far end, grabbing at the banister as though to pull herself along faster. Hawk and Fisher had to push themselves to keep up with her. Katherine reached the top of the stairs first, and ran down the landing to the third door on the left. She hammered on the door and rattled the doorknob, then looked worriedly at Hawk.
"It's still locked. Captain. William! William, can you hear me?" There was no reply. Katherine stepped back and looked desperately at Hawk. "Use your axe. Smash the lock. I'll take the responsibility."
Hawk frowned as he drew his axe. "Perhaps we should talk to Gaunt first;"
"I'm not waiting! William could be ill in there. Break the door down now. That's an order. Captain!"
Hawk nodded, and took a good grip on his axe. "Stand back, then, and give me some room."
"What the hell is going on here?" said Gaunt, from the top of the stairs. "Captain; put down your axe."
Hawk looked steadily at the sorcerer. "Councilor Blackstone doesn't answer our calls, and his door is locked from the inside. Do you have a spare key?"
Gaunt came forward to join him. "No," he said slowly, "I've never needed any spares." He looked at the closed door, and his mouth tightened. "William could be hurt. Smash the lock."
Hawk nodded, and swung his axe at the brass lock, using all his strength. The blade sank deep into the wood, and the keen edge bit into the brass. The heavy door shook violently in its frame, but didn't open. Hawk jerked the blade free, and struck again. The axe sheared clean through the lock. Hawk smiled slightly as he pulled the blade free. It was a good axe. He kicked the door open, and he and Fisher hurried into the room, with Katherine and Gaunt close behind.
William Blackstone lay on his back on the floor, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. A knife hilt protruded from his chest, and his shirtfront was red with blood.
Chapter Three
QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS
Katherine Blackstone pushed past Hawk and Fisher, and ran forward to kneel beside her husband. Her hand went briefly to his chest, and then to his face. She looked back at Hawk, and her face was blank and confused.
"He's dead. He's really dead. Who; Who;"
She suddenly started to cry, great rasping sobs that shook her whole body. Fisher moved forward and knelt beside her for a moment before putting an arm round her shoulders and helping her to her feet. She led Katherine away from the body and made her sit down on the bed. Katherine accepted this docilely. Tears rolled down her face, but she made no attempt to wipe them away. Shock. Hawk had seen it before. He looked at Gaunt, standing beside him in the doorway. The sorcerer looked shaken and confused, unable to take in what had happened.
"Gaunt," said Hawk quietly, "you're her friend; get her out of here. Fisher and I have to examine the body."
"Of course," said Gaunt. "I'm sorry, I; of course."
"And, Gaunt;"
"Yes?"
"Take her downstairs, get somebody to sit with her, and then set up an isolation spell. I don't want anyone or anything getting in or out of this house."
"Yes. I understand."
Gaunt went over to Katherine and spoke softly to her. Katherine shook her head dazedly, but got to her feet as Gaunt went on talking to her, his voice low and calm and persuasive. They left the room together, and Hawk shut the door behind them. Hawk and Fisher looked at the dead body, and then at each other.
"Some bodyguards we turned out to be," said Hawk.
Fisher nodded disgustedly. "This is going to be a real mess, Hawk. Blackstone was the best thing to happen to this city in years. What's going to happen with him gone?"
"If we don't find out who killed him, and quickly, there'll be riots in the streets," said Hawk grimly. "Damn. I liked him, Isobel. He trusted us to keep him safe, and we let him down."
"Come on," said Fisher. "We've got work to do. I'll check the room, you check the body."
Hawk nodded, and knelt down beside Blackstone. He looked the body over from head to toe, careful not to touch anything. Blackstone's face was calm and relaxed, the eyes open and staring at the ceiling. His hands were empty. One leg had buckled under him as he fell back, and was trapped beneath the other. The knife had been driven into his heart with such strength that the crosspiece of the knife was flush with Blackstone's chest. Hawk looked at the weapon closely, but it seemed a perfectly ordinary knife. There were no other wounds on the body, or any sign that Blackstone had tried to defend himself. The shirt around the knife was soaked with blood. Hawk frowned. With a wound like that, you'd expect a lot more blood;
"Look at this," said Fisher.
Hawk looked up sharply.
Fisher was crouched down beside the bed, staring at a wineglass lying on its side on the thick rug. There was a little red wine left in the glass, and a few drops had spilled out onto the rug. The crimson stains looked disturbingly like blood. Fisher dipped a finger into the wine in the glass, and then lifted it to her mouth.
"Don't," said Hawk. "It could be poisoned."
Fisher sniffed at her finger. "Smells okay."
"Leave it anyway, until we've had a chance to check it."
"Come on, Hawk. Why poison Blackstone and then stab him through the heart?"
"All right, I'll admit it's highly unlikely. But you never know. Wipe your fingers off thoroughly, okay?"
"Okay." Fisher wiped her finger on the bedspread, and then moved over to crouch down beside Hawk. She stared glumly at the body, and shook her head slowly. "Well. How do you see it happening?"
Hawk frowned. "The door was locked from the inside, and Blackstone had the only key. At least, I assume he had it. I'll check in a minute to make sure. Anyway, I think we're fairly safe in assuming it wasn't suicide. First, he had everything to live for. Second, there had been threats on his life. And third, he'd have a hell of a hard job stabbing himself like that. Apart from anything else, the angle's all wrong. No, suicide is definitely out."
"Right," said Fisher. "So, somebody got in here, stabbed Blackstone, and then left, leaving the door locked from the inside. Tricky. Could Blackstone have locked the door himself, after he was stabbed?"
"No," said Hawk. "With a wound like that, he must have died instantly."