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

sounded very tired. “Part of me wants to walk right out of here with the Murdochs, but … the law here’s very clear. Mob violence has no place in business disputes. If we stay … maybe we can help keep the violence from getting out of hand. Sometimes you have to settle for the lesser of two evils. But there’s nothing says we have to like it.”
    The general growl of conversation among the Guards died away as the DeWitts came back out onto their balcony, and looked down like generals surveying their troops. As Foy had intimated, the DeWitts began by committing themselves to a massive bonus, to be paid once the Guards’ work was done. Most of the Guards nodded acceptance happily enough. A few even cheered.
    “The strikers have refused our lawful orders to leave the docks,” said Marcus DeWitt. “You will make them leave, by whatever means necessary.”
    “Be careful once you get onto the harborside,” said David. “Some of the structures aren’t very safe.”
    There was a brief murmur of dark amusement among the Guards. The DeWitts seemed entirely unaware of the irony in what had just been said.
    “Do your duty, Guardsmen,” said Marcus flatly. “Your city has need of you.”
    There were a few more cheers, but the majority of the Guards just turned and left the cobbled yard, heading to the docks to do their job.
    The first light of true morning spread slowly across the docks as the Guards marched down the harborside to face the striking dockers. Most of the red was gone from the skies, and a thin mist had sprung up, a pearl gray cloud that swallowed up the ships in the harbor, and wrapped itself around the two factions as though cutting them off from the rest of the world. As though nothing mattered but what the dockers and the Guard would do next. They were in their own little world now, with no escape from the violent clash that was growing more real and more inevitable with every moment.
    The harborside shook under the massed thunder of booted feet as the Guards bore down on the gathered strikers. The dockers fell silent, but made no move to fall back or disperse. They stood close together, bodies tense with anticipation, their faces full of silent hate and determination. The Guards crashed to a halt facing the strikers, and for a long, long moment both sides just stood and looked at each other. Both sides had weapons in their hands.
    In the midst of his fellow Guards, Hawk hefted his axe uneasily. Even now a few calm words from either side might have stopped this. A little give and take from both sides, a few gestures of goodwill, and they could all have turned aside from the terrible thing waiting to happen. But no one was interested in compromise. Hawk looked away, his gaze moving almost desperately across the ships’ masts rising above the mists like naked trees, and a sudden surge of wanderlust hit him, almost like pain. He felt an almost physical need to board one of those ships and just sail away. Not just from this particularly unpleasant duty, but from Haven, and all its corrupting evils. To start a new life somewhere else, to be someone else, someone cleaner. … Or perhaps just keep traveling. Hawk shook his head angrily. He’d never run away from a hard decision before, and he wasn’t about to start now.
    He looked at the striking dockers, and they looked back, grim and cold, knowing they were damned, whatever happened. The tension on the docks was so real and focused now, it almost had a cutting edge of its own. The violence was very close, a scent of sweat and adrenaline, a taste of blood in the mouth. Of men preparing to fight, to bleed and maybe die, because they had turned away from every other option. Because it was time.
    Hawk looked away again, as though by his refusal to take part, he could prevent the gathering anticipation. Like a child who thinks that if he can’t see it, it isn’t happening. He studied the zombies, still moving slowly but purposefully back and forth, lifting