Guards of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk and Fisher (Hawk & Fisher) by Simon R. Green Page A

gravely. “This is my sister, Isobel. We’ve come to pay our respects to the new head of the Family.”
    “Of course, sir and madam. I am Greaves, butler of Tower MacNeil. Please come in.”
    He stood back to allow them to enter. He seemed faintly disapproving, possibly because they came from a backwater like Lower Markham, but most likely because butlers always seemed faintly disapproving. Hawk suspected it was part of the job description. He strolled into the hallway as though he owned the place, with Isobel on his arm, smiling demurely. The smile didn’t suit her, but Hawk admired the effort that had gone into it. Greaves closed the door behind them, and Hawk’s ears pricked up as he heard the sound of heavy bolts being thrown home. It could be that the Tower MacNeil household was routinely security-minded ... or it could be that right now they had reason to be. He took off his cloak, and found the butler already there waiting to receive it. Fisher handed Greaves her cloak, and raised a painted eyebrow enquiringly.
    “Are you the only staff here, Greaves? Surely it’s not a butler’s place to take the cloaks from guests. Don’t you have any maids under you?”
    Greaves’s expression didn’t alter in the least as he arranged the cloaks neatly on the wall by the door. “Alas, madam, I’m afraid Tower MacNeil is extremely short staffed at present. Normally we have a staff of twenty-two, but everyone else left some time ago.”
    Hawk looked at him sharply. “And why is that?”
    “It’s not really my place to say, sir. If you and the young lady would care to follow me, I’ll take you to the MacNeil himself. I’m sure he will be happy to answer any questions you may have.”
    He turned his back on them, politely but firmly, and started off down the hall. Hawk and Fisher exchanged a look behind his back, shrugged pretty much in unison, and followed him. They’d only been in the place a few moments and already they were up to their ears in questions. What the hell could have happened here to drive all the servants out? And since it had happened recently, could it have something to do with Fenris’ arrival? The butler worried Hawk as well. The man was being far too calm and pleasant. Most butlers were worse snobs than their masters and would have had coronaries at the mere mention of their doing maids’ work. And yet Greaves seemed to be implying he was doing all the servants’ work at Tower MacNeil. What kind of hold could keep him at his duty, despite the humiliation?
    Hawk shrugged inwardly. Perhaps Greaves was just angling for a larger than usual gratuity when Hawk left. In which case, he was going to be disappointed. Wardrobe might have provided Hawk with aristocratic clothes, but they’d absolutely declined to fill the purse on his belt. He’d had to do that, with his bonus money, and he was damned if he was going to part with one penny more than he absolutely had to.
    The butler led Hawk and Fisher down a stylishly appointed passage and ushered them into a large and spacious drawing room. Early morning light streamed through the immaculately polished windows, reflecting brightly from the pure white of the stonework, illuminating the room like a vision of paradise. The whole ceiling was covered with a single delightful piece of art depicting nymphs and shepherds at play. In a romantic and extremely tasteful way, of course. Everywhere there were luxurious chairs and couches, fine displays of wines and spirits, silver trays bearing all kinds of cold food, and every other comfort the mind could imagine. Hawk did his best to look unimpressed.
    Standing with his back to the roaring fire was a tall, well-built young man with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. He couldn’t have been more than twenty, and his unruly mop of tawny hair made him look even younger. Nevertheless, there was a dignity and strength in his stance, and a composure in his face, that was quietly impressive. Hawk didn’t need Greaves to