Hawk thought furiously as he and Fisher made their way down the stairs and into the hall. He'd gone about as far as he could on his own. If he was going to get any further, he had to have more information from Gaunt and his guests, and that meant more cooperation on their part. Some would cooperate, some might, and some wouldn't. In theory, he could order them to do anything and they were legally obliged to obey him, but in reality he had to be very careful about what orders he gave. Most of his suspects were important people in Haven. They had a great deal of clout, if they chose to use it. Hawk worried his lower lip between his teeth. If and when he felt able to accuse someone, he'd better have overwhelming evidence to back him up. Nothing else would do.
Unfortunately, evidence was in very short supply at the moment. All he had were endless theories, none of which seemed to lead anywhere. He couldn't be sure of anything anymore. He stopped suddenly at the foot of the stairs, and looked down the hall at the closed front door. Fisher stopped beside him and looked at him curiously.
"Hawk, what is it?"
"I just had an intriguing thought," said Hawk. "We've been assuming that no one could get in or out of this house because of the isolation spell. Right?"
"Right."
"How do we know there is an isolation spell?"
"Gaunt said so. And besides, we felt the effects when he cast it."
Hawk shook his head. "Gaunt has said a lot of things. We felt a spell being cast, all right, but how do we know it was an isolation spell? Could have been anything. You go into the parlor and talk to Gaunt a minute. Keep him occupied. I'm going to open that front door and see if we really are isolated from the outside world."
Fisher nodded reluctantly. "All right. But you be careful, Hawk."
Hawk grinned, and set off down the hall as Fisher went into the parlor. The hall was large and gloomy, and the shadows seemed very dark. His footsteps echoed loudly on the quiet. He finally came to a halt before the closed front door, and looked it over carefully. It looked normal enough. He reached out his left hand and gently pressed his fingers to the wood. It felt strangely cold to the touch, and seemed almost to pulse under his fingertips. Hawk snatched his hand away and rubbed his fingers together. They were still cold. Hawk braced himself, and took a firm hold of the door handle. It seemed to stir in his hand, and he tightened his grip. He turned the handle all the way round, and then eased the door open a crack. The hall was suddenly very cold. Hawk opened the door a little wider and looked out. And outside the door there was nothing; nothing at all.
Hawk clung desperately to the door. It was like standing on a narrow ledge and looking out over a bottomless drop. No matter where he looked there was only the dark, as though the house were falling on and on into an endless night. A cold wind blew from nowhere, searing his bare face and hands. Hawk swallowed sickly, and with a great effort tore his eyes away from the dark. He stepped back, and slammed the door shut. He moved quickly away from the door and leaned against the nearest wall while he got his breath back. His hands and face were numb from the cold, but feeling quickly returned as the summer heat inside the house drove the cold out of him. He smiled slightly. If nothing else, he had established that the house was very definitely isolated from the outside world. He wondered how Fisher was getting on.
When Fisher had entered the parlor, the assembled guests met her with a frosty silence. They were sitting together in a group, having apparently discovered that there was comfort as well as safety in numbers. They made an ill-assorted group, with some fully dressed and some still in their nightclothes. (Catherine Blackstone was once again sitting by the empty fireplace. She'd regained some of her composure, but her face was still very pale and her eyes were red and swollen. She held a handkerchief in one hand as though she'd forgotten it was there. Stalker sat beside her, drinking thirstily from a newly filled glass of wine. Lord and Lady Hightower sat together, staring into the empty fireplace, both lost in their own thoughts. Visage had pulled her chair up next to Dorimant's, and she leaned tiredly against him, his arm round her shoulders. The young witch looked frightened and confused, while Dorimant looked stubbornly protective. Gaunt was sitting nearest the door, and stood up as Fisher entered.
"Well, Captain Fisher, what have you found?"
"Nothing particularly helpful, sir sorcerer. Judging from the extent of his wounds, it seems likely Edward Bowman was attacked by a madman or an animal. Or by someone who wanted it to look like an animal attack."
Gaunt raised an eyebrow. "Why should anyone want to do that?"
"Beats me," said Fisher. "Nothing in this case seems to make sense."
"Some things never do, girl," said Stalker. "You learn that as you get older."
Fisher looked at him sharply. There had been something in his voice, something; bitter. Stalker finished off the last of the wine and stared moodily into the empty glass. Fisher turned back to Gaunt.
"Earlier on this evening. Hawk asked you to run some tests on the wine Blackstone was drinking just before his death," she said quietly. "Did you take a sample to test?"
"I'm afraid not," said Gaunt. "I was going to do it first thing in the morning."
"Damn."
"Is there a problem, Captain Fisher?"
"You could say that. Someone has removed the wineglass from Blackstone's room."
"You should have put a guard on the door," said Lord Hightower suddenly. His voice was flat and harsh.
"We could have, my Lord," said Fisher. "But we thought it more important to protect all of you against further attacks."
"You failed at that too," said Hightower. "I'll have your heads for this incompetence, both of you!"
Fisher started to answer him, and then stopped as Gaunt's head suddenly snapped round to stare at the hall.
"Someone's trying to open the front door!"
"It's all right, sir Gaunt," said Fisher quickly. "It's only Hawk. He's just checking that the house is properly secure."
Gaunt relaxed a little, and stared sardonically at Fisher. "You mean he's checking the isolation spell. What's the matter, Captain? Don't you trust me anymore?"
"We don't trust anyone," said Fisher carefully. "That's our job, sir sorcerer."
Gaunt nodded curtly. "Of course, Captain. I understand."
"Then you'll also understand why we have to search all the rooms on the ground floor."
Gaunt frowned. "You've already seen them once."
"Not all of them, sir sorcerer. We haven't seen the kitchen, or your laboratory."
"My laboratory is strictly private," said Gaunt. "No one uses it but me. There's really no need for you to check it; you felt the avoidance spell yourself. It's impossible for anyone to enter the laboratory apart from myself."
"We'll still have to check it," said Fisher.
"I can't allow that," said Gaunt flatly.
"I'm afraid I must insist."
"No."
"Then we'll have to arrest you," said Fisher.
"On what charge?"
"We'll think of something."
Gaunt smiled coldly. "Do you really think you have the power to arrest me?" he said softly.
"We can give it a damn good try," said Hawk.
Everyone looked round to see Hawk standing in the parlor doorway, axe in hand. Gaunt started to raise his left hand, and then stopped as Fisher drew her sword in a single swift movement that set the tip of her blade against his ribs. Gaunt stood very still. The guests watched in a fascinated silence. Hawk took a firm grip on his axe. The tension in the parlor stretched almost to breaking point. And then Gaunt took a deep breath and let it out, and some of the strength seemed to go out of him with it.