"You could always go to Hardcastle," said Medley.
"I tried," said Sykes. "He wouldn't see me. Three thousand ducats. Adamant. That's my offer. I've got the bank draft right here."
"I'll talk to the Guild and put what pressure I can on the DeWitts," said Adamant. "That's all I can promise you. If that's not good enough, then we'll have to do without your money."
Sykes took a folded bank draft out of his coat pocket, hefted it in his hand, and then tossed it onto the desk. "I'll see you again, Adamant;if you win the election."
He pulled his coat around him, glared briefly at Hawk and Fisher, and left the study. The door swung shut behind him. Hawk turned slightly to look at Adamant.
"Is it normally this blatant? I mean, when you get right down to it, those two were giving you bribes in return for future favors. Reform's always campaigned against that kind of corruption in the past."
"Fighting an election costs money," said Medley. "Lots of it. James couldn't hope to pay all the bills on his own, and the Cause can't do much to help. What money they have has to be spread around among the poorer candidates. All they could give us was this house. So, we take funds where we can find them. You can bet Hardcastle isn't bothered by any such niceties. If his supporters don't make big enough donations, all he has to do is threaten to raise property taxes. And it's not as if we promised to do anything against our principles. In the end, all politics is based on people doing favors for each other. That's what keeps the system going. It may not be a very pretty system, but then, that's one of the things we're fighting to change."
The door flew open, and Dannielle swept in. She glared at them all impartially, and then sank into her favorite chair. "I feel like I ought to open all the windows and set up incense sticks, just to get the smell of politics out of this room."
"Sorry, Danny," said Adamant. "But they really wouldn't have talked freely with you there, and we needed the money they were offering."
Dannielle sniffed. "Let's change the subject."
"Let's," said Medley. "Is there anything more you need to know before we start campaigning, Captain Hawk, Captain Fisher?"
"Yes," said Hawk. "I need more information on the other candidates. Hardcastle, for example. I gather he's unpopular, even among his own people."
"The man's a brute," said Adamant. "He runs the High Steppes like his own private Barony. Even levies his own separate tax, though it's not called that, of course. It's an insurance policy. And people who don't or can't keep up their payments find their luck's suddenly changed for the worse. It starts with beatings, moves on to fires, and ends with murder. And no one says anything. Even the Guard looks the other way."
Hawk smiled coldly. "We're the Guard here now. Tell me about Hardcastle himself."
"He's a thug and a bully, and his word is worthless," said Medley unemotionally. "He takes bribes from everyone, and then welshes on the deal, as often as not. He's been very successful in business, and it's rumored he knows where some very important bodies are buried. He has his own little army of men-at-arms and hired bullies. Anyone who tries to speak out against him gets their legs broken as a warning. I don't think he has any friends, but he has acquaintances in high places."
"Anything else?" said Fisher.
"He's married," said Dannielle. "But I've never met her."
"Not many have," said Medley. "She doesn't go out much. From what I hear, it was an arranged marriage, for business reasons. They've been married seven years now. No children."
"An army of men-at-arms," said Hawk thoughtfully. "You mean mercenaries?"
"That's right," said Medley. "It's hard to get an accurate figure, but he's got at least three hundred armed men under his personal command. Probably more."
"And this is the man you're standing against?" said Fisher. "You must be crazy. You're going to need your own private army just to walk the streets in safety."
"What do I need an army for?" said Adamant. "I've got you and Captain Hawk, haven't I? Relax, Captain Fisher. We have our own mercenaries. Not as many as Hardcastle, but enough. They'll keep the worst elements off our backs. We'll just have to play the rest by ear."
"Terrific," said Fisher.
"Tell me about the other candidates," said Hawk.
Adamant looked at Medley, who frowned thoughtfully before speaking. "Well, first, there's Lord Arthur Sinclair. Youngish chap, inherited the title a few years back under rather dubious circumstances, but that's nothing new in Haven. Plays politics for the fun of it as much as anything. Likes all the attention, and the chance to stand up in public and make a fool of himself. He's standing as an independent, because nobody else would have him, and he wants to see an end to all forms of tax on alcohol. He has some backing, mostly from the beer, wine, and spirits industry, and he's wealthy enough to buy himself a few votes, but the only way he'll get elected is if all the other candidates drop dead. And even then there'd have to be a recount."
"He means well," said Adamant, "but he's no danger to anyone except himself. He drinks like a fish, from what I've heard."
"Then there's Megan O'Brien," said Medley, having waited patiently for Adamant to finish. "He's a spice merchant, also independent, standing for Free Trade. Given that a great deal of Haven's income comes from the very taxes O'Brien wants stopped, I don't think much of his chances. He'll be lucky to get through the election without being assassinated.
"And, of course, there's General Longarm. Once a part of the Low Kingdoms army, now part of a militant movement within the Brotherhood of Steel. He's been officially disowned by the Brotherhood, though whether that means anything is open to question. The Brotherhood's always been devious. He's campaigning as an independent, on the Law and Order ticket. Believes every lawbreaker should be beheaded, on the spot, and wants compulsory military service introduced for every male over fourteen. He's crazier than a brewery-yard rat, and about as charismatic. His Brotherhood connections might get him a few votes, but otherwise he's harmless."
"I wouldn't count him out completely," said Adamant. "Brotherhood militants took The Downs away from the Conservatives at the last election. I think it would be wise to keep a good weather eye on General Longarm."
"Any more candidates?" said Fisher, helping herself to more wine from the nearest decanter.
"Just one," said Medley. "A mystery candidate. A sorcerer, called the Grey Veil. No one's seen or heard anything about him, but his name's on the official list. Magicians aren't actually banned from standing in the election, but the rules against using magic are so strictly enforced, most magic-users don't bother. They say they're unfairly discriminated against, and they may well be right. Mortice says he's never even heard of the Grey Veil, so he can't be that powerful."
Hawk frowned. "We had a run-in with a sorcerer, earlier today. It might have been him."
"Doesn't make any difference," said Fisher. "We ran him off. If he was the Grey Veil, I think we can safely assume he's no longer standing. Running, maybe, but not standing. The report we filed will see to that."
"Let me get this straight," said Hawk. "Apart from us, there's Hardcastle and his mercenaries, militant Brothers of Steel, and a handful of independents with whatever bullies and bravos they can afford. Adamant, this isn't just an election, it's an armed conflict. I've known battles that were safer than this sounds like it's going to be."
"Now you're getting the hang of it," said Dannielle.
"I think that's covered everything," said Adamant. "Now, would anyone like a quick snack before we leave? I doubt we'll have time to stop to eat once we've started."
Hawk looked hopefully at Fisher, but she shook her head firmly. "Apparently we're fine," said Hawk. "Thanks anyway."