Beyond the Blue Moon (Forest Kingdom Novels) by Simon R. Green

Hawk. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re not in charge of all those bloody zombies, are you?”
    “Certainly not,” said Mistique, pulling a face. “Nasty things. Not my kind of territory at all. No, the city Council appointed me as official bodyguard to the DeWitts, for the duration of their troubles. Just in case the dockers have clubbed together to buy some magical threat. If it was anyone but the DeWitts, I’d have told the Council to go take a long walk off a short pier, but one doesn’t turn down the DeWitts. So here I am, darlings, a sorceress of my magnitude reduced to a mere bodyguard. The shame of it. Far too much like real work for my taste. But, needs must when the devil vomits in your shoes. And the job does pay very well. Both Mummy and Daddy are getting on a bit now, and need a lot of looking after, which means I’ve been raiding the family coffers just a little more than I feel comfortable with, so …”
    “So we do what the DeWitts tell us, and tug our forelocks respectfully, if we know what’s good for us,” said Hawk.
    “Well, yes, darling. That’s life. In Haven, anyway. Though it has to be said that Marcus and David don’t have a single social grace between them. I mean, honestly, they’ve been ordering me about like a bloody servant. I’d widdle in their wine, but with the vintages they prefer, they’d probably never notice.”
    “Maybe you can tell us why the DeWitts have such a hold over the Council just now,” said Fisher. “They don’t normally have this much influence.”
    “Ah, yes. It seems there’s a great deal of perishable goods currently waiting to be unloaded from the boats in the harbor. Tons and tons of it. And an awful lot of it could go off, really soon, if it isn’t unloaded in a hurry. The DeWitts are currently paying for widespread preservation spells, but if they have to keep that up much longer, the cost will eat up all their profits. So dear David and Marcus are caught between a rock and a descending boot. If they let up on the spells, they’ll be left with nothing but tons of rotting food. And if they don’t supply that food, in good condition, they stand to lose not only oodles and oodles of money, but also a whole bunch of very important contracts throughout the city. So they really can’t afford to allow anything to interfere with unloading the ships.”
    “And of course the dockers know all about this,” said Hawk.
    “Oh, of course, darling. Anyway, since the Council doesn’t want to face a whole city full of hungry people, with the prospect of civil unrest and even riots, for now what the DeWitts want, the DeWitts get. Bend over and smile, darlings. It’ll all be over before you know it.”
    “How are the DeWitts controlling so many zombies at once?” asked Fisher, on the grounds that changing the subject had to be a good idea.
    “They’ve come into possession of some remarkable magical artifact,” said Mistique, tossing her long hair thoughtfully. “Paid a hell of a lot for it, too. Apparently it makes controlling any number of zombies a piece of cake. I don’t know what it is. They won’t let me see it. They’re also being very cagey about who they got it from. Don’t blame them. Nothing good ever came from dealing with necromancers.”
    “Could they really get away with replacing the workforce with zombies?” asked Hawk.
    “I don’t see why not,” said Fisher. “Zombies wear out the longer and harder you work them, but there’s never any shortage of corpses in Haven to replace them. In fact, the Council would probably approve. All the main cemeteries have been full for years, and the incinerators are working twenty-four-hour shifts.”
    “But what about the dockworkers and their families?” asked Hawk. “Does no one care what happens to them?”
    “This is Haven, darling,” said Mistique, not unkindly.
    “And the DeWitts are running a business, not a charity,” said a cold voice bearing down on them. The three