Gotrek & Felix- the First Omnibus - William King

by Warhammer

  The other sewerjacks back from inspecting the bodies. ‘Good work, you two,’ said Hef. ‘You can certainly fight.’

  ‘Might have left us some, though? I thought there was some coming up behind us but they seemed to stop when you two got stuck in.’

  ‘Probably scared them away.’

  ‘Well, let’s take a body and show it to the watch captain. Maybe they’ll believe us this time.’

  ‘Right-o, young Felix. You going to carry it?’

  Felix kept his mouth shut as he bent to lift the smelly, furry carcass. Even amid the stink of the sewers the smell of the corpse was offensive. Felix was quite pleased when, halfway back to the watch station exit, Hef offered to take a turn carrying it.

  ‘And you say that there are rat-men below the city, brother? In the sewers even?’

  Looking around the dining chamber of Otto’s house, Felix found it easy to understand his brother’s incredulity. Everything here seemed solid and safe and unthreatening. The expensive brocade curtains shut out the night just as effectively as the high walls enclosing the garden shut out the city. The solid teak furniture spoke of wealth based on a firm foundation of prosperity. The silver cutlery, different for each course, reflected an ordered world where everything had its place. Here in his brother’s stone-walled house it was hard to recall details of the nightmare battle he had fought that morning.

  ‘Oh yes.’ As he said it he saw again the snarling feral rat-face of the skaven he had killed. He remembered the bubbles of bloody froth blowing from its lips. He felt its stinking weight press against his body as it fell. He forced the memory back and concentrated on the goblet of fine Parravonian wine his brother had placed before him.

  ‘It seems almost impossible to believe. Even though you do hear rumours.’

  ‘Rumours, Otto?’

  The merchant looked around. He got up and walked around the chamber, making sure each of the doors was securely closed. His Bretonnian wife, Annabella, had retired to her chambers, leaving the two men to talk business in private. Otto returned to his seat. His face was flushed from the wine. Candlelight flickered off little beads of sweat on his face.

  ‘They say that there are mutants in the sewers and goblins and other monsters.’ Felix smiled at his brother’s seriousness. Otto was telling this to a sewerjack as if it were a great secret. ‘You may smile, Felix, but I’ve talked to folk who swear it’s true.’

  ‘Really?’ It was hard to keep a note of irony from his voice. Otto didn’t notice it.

  ‘Oh yes, the same folk who swear that there’s a great mutant undertown called the Night Market. They say it’s on the edge of the city. In an abandoned graveyard. It’s frequented by followers of certain depraved cults.’

  ‘Slaanesh worshippers, you mean?’

  Otto pursed his lips primly. ‘Don’t use that word in my home. It’s cursed unlucky and I don’t want to attract the attention of the Dark Powers. Or their followers.’

  ‘Unlucky or not, these things exist.’

  ‘Enough, brother.’

  At first Felix found it hard to believe his brother was serious. He wondered what Otto would say if he told him that he had once witnessed a Slaaneshi orgy on Geheimnisnacht. Best not to, he decided. Seeing his brother’s serious, fear-filled face he realised quite how large the gap between them had grown.

  Could he really once have been as sheltered as his elder brother, shivering and fearful at the mention of a dark power about which he knew not the slightest thing? He had to admit that it was perhaps possible. He began to understand how the cultists got away with it. There was a veil of secrecy drawn over the whole subject in polite society; it wasn’t mentioned or discussed. People preferred to believe, or pretend to believe, that such things as Chaos cults couldn’t exist. If they were mentioned, they didn’t want to talk about them. Everyone abhorred mutants and talked about them widely.

  That was fine. It was easy to pick on visible targets, they provided a focus on which to vent deep seated unease. But bring up the fact that normal, supposedly sane folk might be interested in the worship of the dark ones and a door was slammed in your face.

  The playwright Detlef Sierck had been right when he wrote: ‘Ours is a land chained by silence; ours is a time when the truth goes unspoken.’ People just didn’t want to know.

  Why? Felix did not understand. Did they honestly think that pretending a problem did not exist would make it go away? The watch captain today had looked at the body and could not deny its existence, even though he had obviously wanted to. He was forced to report the matter to a higher authority.

  A sudden chill ran through Felix when he recalled who had come to collect the corpse for examination. They were men from the office of Chief Magistrate von Halstadt. Felix wondered if the body of the dead skaven would ever be seen again.

  ‘Tell me more about von Halstadt,’ Felix asked. ‘Where does he live?’

  Otto seemed glad to change the subject. ‘His father was a minor noble, killed in one of the peasant uprisings in the early seventies. He studied for the Sigmarite priesthood, but was never ordained. There were hints of a scandal, something to do with spying on the nunnery. He is efficient. He’s said to keep files on everyone. And his enemies disappear mysteriously.’

  Felix fell silent. A pattern had emerged. He believed he understood what had happened. It would take a little checking though. He would make a start early tomorrow. ‘You say he lives nearby.’

  ‘Two streets away. Near the palace, on Emmanuelleplatz.’

  ‘Well, well.’ Felix leant back in his chair and yawned expansively. ‘Well, brother, it’s late and I really must go. I have work tomorrow.’

  ‘Very well.’ Otto rang the small bell that sat beside his plate. ‘I’ll have Franz bring your cloak.’

  ‘I told your predecessor never to come here,’ von Halstadt said, staring at the skaven with barely concealed distaste. He hated it when anyone else but him entered his filing chamber. ‘The servants might see you.’

  The rat-man met his gaze levelly. There was something about this one that made von Halstadt nervous. Perhaps it was the greyish fur or perhaps it was the strange, blind-seeming eyes, but there was something different about this one. Something scary, almost.

  ‘This one is not as the other, manthing. Grey seer this one is. Magelord in the service of the Thirteen. Contracted to the clan but not of it. Important I see you. Things went badly with the guards. Many skaven dead.’

  ‘But my servants–’

  ‘Worry not, foolish manthing – they snoresleep. A simple spell.’

  Von Halstadt laid down his file. He marked the place with a uninked quill and closed it gently. He let his hand fall near the hilt of his blade. The touch of it reassured him somewhat. He met the skaven’s stare and dared it to look away. ‘I’m unused to being called “foolish”. Do not do so again.’

  The skaven smiled. It was not calming. For a second the magistrate felt as if it might leap forward and bite him. He kept his hand on his weapon. With an almost imperceptible shake of its head the skaven stopped smiling. It twitched its tail.

  ‘Of course. So-sorry. Many apologies, yes. Grieve for the loss of kin. Cost many warptokens to replace.’

  ‘I accept your apology.’ Von Halstadt was reassured. It was obscurely pleasing that even so monstrous seeming a creature as the rat-man felt a sense of loss at the death of its relatives. Still, he found himself longing for the day when he would no longer have to deal with the skaven and could have them destroyed. He picked up the file and returned it to its precise place in the proper cabinet.

  ‘The manthings are dangerous to our association. Know your appearance and can pickchoose you from others. They must not be allowed to threaten you or us.’

  ‘True.’ The thought was worrying. Von Halstadt’s enemies were legion and the slightest hint of scandal would be used against him. The treacherous sewerjacks would sell that information to the highest bidder, he felt sure. Their lack of loyalty to the ca
use of humanity sickened him. They deserved to die. And to think he had once felt sorry for them. ‘They must die.’

  ‘Yes-yes, and you must show us where to find them.’

  ‘That is straightforward enough. I had their watch captain interviewed today.’ he opened a new cabinet and pulled out a slim dossier. ‘Here is my file on them.’

  ‘Good-good. Soon they will all die-die.’

  Once safely back in the sewer, Grey Seer Thanquol cursed to himself. He was tired of dealing with morons like Tzarkual and the manthing von Halstadt. He would have preferred to have been back home in his warm burrow in Skavenblight, surrounded by his breeders and with a few captive humans to run through his maze. He missed the beautiful rotting aroma of the swamps and he was worried about the intrigues which might be taking place against him in his absence. He hated working with the idiot Tzarkual, who could not even carry out the simple assassination of five manthings properly.

  The thought of the hostleader’s chittering excuses made Thanquol want to bite his own tail with anger. By the Thirteen, it was true! If you wanted a bone gnawed properly you had to gnaw it yourself. No sense entrusting vital tasks to the likes of the useless hostleader.

  Still, his masters had assigned him to Tzarkual’s clan and he was obliged by the binding oaths of his order to implement and expedite their plans. And this one was sound. It resounded to Clan Skab’s credit in the Great Game being played back in Skavenblight. He could see that, foolish though he was, von Halstadt represented a valuable agent to have in place. Of all the humans he had ever met, the spymaster thought most like a skaven – a very stupid skaven, admittedly, but still a skaven. He was easy to manipulate due to his strange jealousy of, and attraction to, the breeder Emmanuelle, prepared to believe anything so long as it was connected to her. Imagine thinking that the skaven use the city’s rats as spies, foolish manthing!

  However, von Halstadt had proven useful in removing those who might prove to be a threat to the long-term plans of the Thirteen and he was an adroit and effective collector of the warpstone so necessary for the continued research plans of the seers.

  Yes-yes, it would be wise to resist the urge to slay the manthing. He was more useful alive than dead, at least until the Great Day came and humanity writhed beneath the talons of the skaven once more.

  Thanquol easily deciphered the strange scratchmarks humans called writing. He had trained all his life for this. The study of mankind and its arts were his particular forte. Von Halstadt had thoughtfully attached the maps showing the closest sewers to the victim’s dwellings. The manthing was not entirely incompetent. How convenient! Two of the manthings dwelled together in an easily accessible place. He would start with them.

  ‘Come-come, Boneripper. I have work for you this night,’ Thanquol squeaked.

  The rat-ogre growled its assent from the shadows. Enormous claws slid smoothly from their sheaths at the prospect of food.

  Hef was lurching drunkenly down the muddy side-street when he heard the sounds of a struggle coming from the hovel which he shared with Gilda and his brother. He knew he shouldn’t have stayed in the tavern for that last pint with Gotrek. If Big Jax and his men had returned for vengeance while he was away, he would never forgive himself.

  The hook knife felt cool and reassuring in his hand. He wished he were more sober, but that was not to be helped. He broke into a trot and almost immediately tripped over a pile of rotting garbage in the path. At night, without street lighting the New Quarter was a death-trap.

  He picked himself up and set off more carefully along the lane. As he recalled there was an open sewer near here and it wouldn’t do to fall in. He heard Gilda scream and all thought of caution vanished when the scream ended in a moan of pain. He ran, scrabbling over the garbage, knocking over a pile of muck. He knew that no one else but him would answer a scream for help in Cheap Street. It was that sort of area.

  Flames started to leap skyward over the hovel. Someone must have knocked over a lamp in the struggle. He heard a feral snarl from within the hut. Maybe Jax had brought his tame war-dogs, as he had threatened. Hef covered the open ground near the entrance in one final spurt. By the light of the flames flickering within he could see that the door had been ripped off its hinges.

  Something moved within. His brother met him at the door. Spider opened his mouth and tried to speak. Blood gushed forth. Hef caught him as he fell forward. As his arms met round his brother’s back, he felt the hole and the great soft mass of the lungs pumping though it. Spider moaned and was still.

  It was a nightmare. He had returned home and his home was in flames. His brother was dead. No, that could not be. He and Spider had been inseparable since they could walk. They had served on the same fishing boat, stolen the same money, ran off together to the same city, lived with the same girl. They had the same life. If Spider was dead, then…

  Hef stood absolutely still. Tears streamed down his face as the monstrous shape emerged from the ruins of the burning hut and loomed over him. The last thing he heard was the sound of chittering from behind him.

  Felix was up bright and early. He made his way down the muddy streets of the New Quarter, ignoring the pall of smoke that rose from the shantytown near Cheap Street. Another fire, he supposed. Well, he had been lucky, the wind had not fanned the flames in the direction of Frau Zorin’s tenement. If they had, he might have died in his sleep. And he couldn’t afford to die just now. He still had things to do.

  He turned left down Rotten Row and hit the cobbled streets of Commercial Way. Coaches clattered past as merchants made their way to the coffee houses before starting business for the day. He found his way to the Hall of Archives and made his way to the division of the planning office with responsibility for sewers.

  He knew he would find what he needed there. Three quarters of an hour, much browsing through ancient, dust-covered files and plans, two threats and one bribe later, he had proven himself to be correct. Pleased with himself, Felix made his way to the watch house.

  They were instantly assigned to help out the rest of the watch in the area that had burned: burying the dead, searching the rubble for the living. They marched up to the shantytown to take a look. The fire had ripped through many hovels, the burned and the disfigured dead were everywhere. A little boy, his face blackened by soot, sat near an old woman who whimpered quietly to herself.

  ‘What happened here, son?’ Felix asked.

  ‘It was the rat-daemon what did it,’ the boy said. ‘I saw it myself. It killed the men who lived there and carried them below to feast. Ma says it’ll come for me next if I don’t behave.’

  Felix exchanged looks with Gotrek. Savage interest was evident in the Trollslayer’s one good eye.

  ‘There’s no such thing as rat-daemons, lad. Don’t lie to us – we’re with the watch.’

  ‘There is too. I saw it with my own eyes. It was taller than you and heavier than that big one-eyed dwarf. It was led by a smaller rat-man with grey skin and horns on its head.’

  ‘Did anyone else see it?’

  ‘Don’t know. I hid. I thought they might take me too.’

  Felix shook his head and went to check the ruins of Hef and Spider’s hut. There was little left of the pitiful building save the burned-out remains and the charred corpse of a woman.

  ‘No sign of Hef or Spider?’

  Gotrek shook his head and pointed with his toe to something grey and sharp lying in the ashes. ‘That’s Hef’s knife.’

  Felix bent and picked it up. The metal was still warm from lying in the embers. Felix looked at the corpse. The smell of burnt meat filled his nostrils.

  ‘Gilda?’ said Felix.

  Felix shook his head. Sorrow and rage filled him. He had liked the brothers. They had been good men. Now he wanted vengeance.

  ‘You were an engineer once, Gotrek. Tell me what these mean.’

  Felix ignored the Trollslayer’s incredulous look. He cleared a space on the table in the watchroom and spread out the charts.
Rudi watched curiously as he smoothed the cracked old parchment flat and weighed down each corner with an empty tea mug.

  The Slayer gave his attention back to the papers. ‘These are charts of the sewers, manling. Dwarf-made plans of the Old Quarter.’

  ‘That’s correct. They show the area beneath Chief Magistrate von Halstadt’s mansion. If you look closely, you’ll discover that it’s not too far from the place where Gant was killed. I’d also bet if we looked we’d find a way up from the sewers to his house.’

  A frown creased Rudi’s low brow. ‘You’re suggesting that we break into Fritz von Halstadt’s house! We’ll be hung if we’re caught. We might even lose our jobs!’

  ‘That would be a pity. What do you say, are you in? Rudi?’

  ‘I don’t know…’

  ‘Gotrek?’

  ‘Yes, manling – with one provision.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘If von Halstadt is the Chaos worshipping, skaven-loving, snotling-fondler we saw in the sewer then we kill him.’

  An appalled silence hung over the chamber. The import of the Trollslayer’s words sunk into their brains. Felix felt his mouth go dry. What the dwarf was suggesting was murder, pure and simple.

  No, he decided, thinking of Gant, and the dead in the New Quarter, it wasn’t murder, it was justice. He’d go along with that. ‘Fine.’

  ‘There’s no backing out then. Rudi?’ The bald-headed man looked shocked. His face was pale and fear was in his eyes.

  ‘You don’t know what you’re suggesting.’

  ‘Are you coming with us or not?’ Rudi didn’t answer for a second. ‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll come. I just hope you’re wrong, that’s all.’

  ‘I’m not,’ Felix said.

  ‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’

  The sewers had never seemed so ominous to Felix. Shadows danced away from the lantern light. Every time he heard Rudi’s heavy tread behind him, he had to fight the urge to look around. The sound of the Slayer continually tapping the walls with his hatchet blade was getting on his nerves. He knew that Gotrek was only doing it to see if he could find a hollow area but that did not make it any easier to take.