Werewolf Castle

by Tracy Falbe

  Arvin tensed beneath the touch of the huntsman. The contact impressed upon him the intense strength of the other man, and his instincts told him that granting the stranger’s request could be wise.

  “All right then. They can stay the winter,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Thal said. He released the man and offered his hand to seal the deal.

  Hesitantly, Arvin shook the hand.

  “Go back to your drinking and don’t mention me,” Thal said.

  He and Altea slipped away quickly, and Arvin leaned against the pillar, feeling greatly relieved.

  Recovering himself a little, he watched the stranger and his lovely wife gather several others who he did not recognize and leave his hall. He sighed and hoped that everything would go back to normal and nothing would come of the strange encounter.

  He took another moment to regain his composure and listened to music. The pretty singer with the long blond hair was introducing a song that he said he wrote after a perilous encounter with bandits in Bohemia.

  Long roads, good people and beer

  In Bohemia are always near.

  The troubadour’s voice

  Brings girls of his choice.

  Bohemian forests green and sweet

  Cast shade for our weary feet.

  All was well in village and farm.

  We players never thought of harm.

  Then one night the fire went out.

  We musicians awoke with a shout.

  A plague of men so foul

  Came to make players howl.

  Hands on the throat to strangle.

  With bandits we did wrangle.

  I begged for an Angel to save us

  But got the Devil instead.

  He hit the bandits on the head.

  I begged for an Angel to save us

  But got the Devil instead.

  With his sword they were fed.

  I begged for an Angel to save us

  But got the Devil instead.

  Their souls are in Hell

  We players sing on well.

  I begged for an Angel to save us

  But got the Devil instead.

  The audience cheered at the rousing finish of the tune.

  The original song delighted the guests, but Arvin contemplated the disquieting thought that the musicians still had a guardian devil.

  A jovial colleague interrupted his unpleasant pondering.

  “These players are marvelous, Arvin!” declared a tipsy quarry owner.

  Arvin gratefully shifted his attention to his friend, who slapped an arm around his shoulder and ushered him back to the table.

  “They’ll be playing for me all winter,” Arvin said.

  ******

  Thal’s pack gathered around him outside the residence of Arvin Kramer. Mileko hung back. His eyes darted up and down the street.

  Thal quietly explained that they were seeking a brothel on Star Street where Tobias Dorn might be found. “Once we get there, let me do the talking. You stay ready to support me. If I find Dorn, I plan to take control of him without attracting too much attention of course.”

  Mileko slid closer and said, “This place the lawyer frequents might not welcome a rough looking crew like us.”

  “Then you’ll wait for me outside,” Thal said. “Ansel, go ahead a bit and make inquiries to get directions to this street.”

  The tall youth nodded and hoped that he would not blush when he asked a stranger for the way to a street that everyone probably associated with prostitution.

  Mileko retrieved his horse and rode near the group casually. He used his vantage point from the saddle to watch for trouble. The fext was foremost in his mind because no arts of premonition were needed to know that another encounter with the dreadful creature would soon come to pass.

  Up ahead, Ansel appeared successful in gaining guidance from a man in the street, and he beckoned his group. Altea kept a hold of Thal’s hand as they walked.

  “So you think I’m going to let you walk into a brothel?” she asked.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll be coming in with me,” he said.

  Consternation briefly flared upon her features, and she did not know what to say.

  When they reached the Dove’s Wing, the place was as Mileko had predicted. Two burly doormen stood alongside the thick pair of wooden doors. Their humorless square faces exuded a dedication to their duty as if they guarded the Holy Grail.

  They narrowed their eyes when Thal’s group approached. Fleece ponchos and muddy boots summoned palpable displeasure.

  Thal patted Altea’s hand and said, “I’ll need you.”

  When her foot hit the first step beneath the entrance, she froze. Everything about her upbringing had instilled in her an absolute aversion to what went on inside such a place. She had noticed prostitution going on in places before, but never entered an actual brothel that brazenly traded in flesh. She had been taught that this was a place of bad women who had fallen farther than Eve. Much farther.

  She hung her head, gripped with shame for reflecting the judgment that society had forced into her heart. She who had been judged so harshly should not presume to consider the women within as less than herself. Indeed, if any inside knew she was a confessed witch, they might think her worthy of the stake.

  Altea lifted her chin, shedding another layer of prejudice that had been bred into her for countless generations.

  Thal noted her hesitancy and thought that it would give credence to the ruse he was planning. He greeted the guards with a cheerful hello.

  “This is a place for respectable gentlemen,” one guard said.

  “Those who know me respect me quite a bit,” Thal rejoined.

  “Do we look like we want to hear your jokes?” the guard demanded. His silent comrade tensed as if ready to toss Thal down the steps, but a flash from Thal’s eyes warned the brawny man not to make assumptions.

  “Then I’ll speak business for that is what brings me to the door of the Dove’s Wings. I was told that the most beautiful women in Pressburg were the hostesses of this house. As you can see, my fair wife here certainly belongs among the best. Alas, she’s barren and I don’t want her anymore. But she’s proven herself most willing in the bedchamber, and I’d not be so cruel as to leave her at a convent. That would be quite a waste. May I speak with the proprietor about granting this woman a position within?” Thal said.

  Altea’s look of astonishment supported his claim. He grabbed her arm as if to prevent her from running off.

  The plausibility of Thal’s proposition prompted the guard to say, “Wait here.” He disappeared within while his counterpart glowered appropriately.

  Altea decided to fill the awkward silence with pleas not to leave her at a brothel.

  “Silence woman,” Thal said.

  When the guard returned, he said, “No weapons inside.”

  “Very well,” Thal said. After pinning Altea with a stern look, he beckoned Ansel and Mitri and gave them his weapons. Observing the lengthy transfer of multiple weapons, the guards exchanged a look. Despite their intimidating stature, they were pleased that the stranger had not caused trouble.

  “Ask for Madame Trefenski,” the guard said and pushed open a door.

  Thal took Altea inside. They stood on the threshold observing the plastered foyer with a gaudy crystal chandelier filled with candles. Conversations and singing came from adjoining rooms. The open doorways revealed men inside drinking and chatting with women in bright dresses with substantial cleavage on display. Groping hands brushed across breasts and women giggled with false affection.

  Straight ahead, the foyer opened into a main hall set with buffets of food and tables where three men were eating. Two staircases flanked the hall leading up to rooms where the lusty transactions were completed. Small sculptures of nude women stood upon small platforms along the banisters, and oil paintings displaying the revels of pagan gods glistened richly on the walls.

  A silver-haired woman in a b
lue silk dress approached them. She had the face of a woman who could judge character well because she had seen all sorts in her life, but her dark eyes widened as she looked over Thal and could not reach a conclusion.

  “You’re the fellow who wants to get rid of his wife?” she said.

  “Madame Trefenski?” he said.

  She dipped her head and said, “And you are?”

  “Thal,” he answered and presumed to take her hand and kiss it lightly. He felt the tiny jolt that went through her body before his fingers slid off of hers. For a woman who had known many men, she had not encountered one like him.

  Trefenski concealed her sudden fluster and looked down her nose at Altea. “I suppose we could use her,” she said although she did not like the haughty defiance on the woman’s face, but training and discipline would take care of such things.

  “Let us speak in private,” Trefenski said and led them to a small room in the back of the house next to the kitchen. Servants glanced curiously at the newcomers.

  Trefenski shut the door and got to business. “As you can see, I’m entertaining guests and did not want to distract them with our conversation. What do you intend to pay me to take her in?”

  “Pay you?” Thal said.

  “I’m not taking in this girl, no matter how attractive, without payment in advance for room and board. And does she have any other clothes besides those?” Trefenski flicked her fingers at Altea’s black garb.

  Altea clenched her teeth. She gave Thal one meaningful look that warned him to conclude this situation or she would.

  “Madame, is there a man by the name of Tobias Dorn in the house?” he said.

  Grave reproach deepened the lines on Trefenski’s face. “I would never divulge the names of my guests to a stranger,” she said.

  “You’re going to make an exception,” Thal said. He moved closer.

  Trefenski puffed out her chest bravely. “One scream from me and you’ll get the beating of your life,” she warned.

  “My apologies,” Thal said, and he moved swiftly to pin her against the wall with a hand over her mouth. She struggled considerably but the effort was useless against his strength.

  Altea fashioned a gag quickly and bound it across the woman’s face. Thal then moved her into a chair and they tied her hands to the armrests.

  Altea squatted next to her and looked her in the eye. “Nod if Tobias is here,” she said.

  Trefenski’s fear swatted aside her devotion to confidentiality. Trembling in her bonds, she nodded.

  “Stay with her,” Thal said and left the room. Altea bolted the door and folded her arms to stand guard over her prisoner.

  Thal returned to the one of the front rooms where men were being entertained. He stood in the doorway and said, “Dorn? Tobias Dorn?”

  The men glanced at him but no one replied. Thal went to the other parlor and made the same inquiry. This time a man said, “He’s at the dice game.” He gestured with his drink toward the back of the house, and Thal resumed his hunt. His keen ears detected an outburst of shouting and laughter behind a door, and he went in.

  Men were gathered around a table, stacked with coin. A few ladies of the house sat on laps or rubbed shoulders. No one gave Thal a second glance.

  He watched a man take up the dice cup. He made a bold prediction about his luck to the fellow wagering against him and cast his dice. Half the table exclaimed and the other half groaned.

  The man who had rolled the dice cursed.

  “Tobias Dorn?” Thal said.

  The man still holding the dice cup looked up. He had a short beard that lent some gravitas to his soft face. His dark doublet was unbuttoned, and his white shirt hung open to reveal a pudgy chest with dark hairs.

  “Who are you?” he demanded with the confidence of a man who felt comfortable in his surroundings.

  “A new bodyguard. Madame wants to see you. She’s got a new girl that might interest you,” Thal said.

  The men seated alongside Tobias chuckled and elbowed him with fraternal encouragement.

  “Well, that does sound better than this accursed game,” Tobias said. He flung some coins in the direction of the winners and grumbled about the dice being crooked.

  He walked over to Thal and said, “I’d told her to find me someone new.”

  “I suspected as much,” Thal murmured and opened the door for him.

  “This way,” Thal said with a butler-like tone.

  Tobias walked the house like he knew it well. As they stopped at the door to Trefenski’s room, he seemed to have an inkling that something was amiss. He looked at Thal with greater scrutiny.

  Thal knocked on the door. “Altea, open up.”

  She stood aside after opening the door. Tobias stopped in shock when he saw the state of Madame Trefenski. Tobias whirled, and Thal struck him a blinding blow across the jaw. He fell like he had been hit by a log and moaned on the floor in a twilight of consciousness.

  Thal shut the door quickly. He and Altea lifted the lawyer to his feet. His head hung as he grumbled incoherently.

  Trefenski growled into her gag.

  Thal and Altea hustled Tobias toward the back door.

  “He’s had much too much to drink,” Thal explained when they passed someone in the hall.

  When they emerged into the back yard, Thal spotted the service gate that led back to Star Street. “Bring the others quickly,” Thal said, and Altea hurried ahead to fetch their pack.

  The others clustered around Thal as he assisted the dazed lawyer down the street. When he started to resist a little, Thal’s arm tightened on him like a vice.

  “Mileko, have you anything to subdue him?” Thal wondered hopefully.

  Mileko jumped from his horse and produced a slender vial of liquid. He forced it into Tobias’s mouth. The man sputtered and the taste nearly brought him back to his senses before the drug made him slump in Thal’s arms.

  “Thank you,” Thal said, and he kept the sluggish man stumbling along.

  Thal made inquiries in the street that he needed to help the drunk lawyer home until he found a neighbor who directed them to the right house.

  They went down the alley to the backdoor and discovered that it was locked.

  “Mitri, what think you of this lock?” Thal asked.

  The former thief bent to peer at the keyhole with a professorial manner.

  “Can you pick it?” Thal asked with a note of impatience.

  “Oh yes, but...” Mitri said before deciding that the subject did not warrant speech. He patted down the feeble prisoner in Thal’s grasp. His big hands rummaged across the man’s torso as Mitri inspected his pockets. He plucked out a key and swirled it triumphantly on its ring. Mitri smiled timidly to his werelord, admonishing him gently for suggesting that he pick a lock when surely the man had a key to his own house on his person.

  “Of course,” Thal said.

  Mitri turned the key and pushed open the door like a royal steward showing a king to his chambers.

  Mileko went in first and swiftly confirmed that no family or servants were present. Apparently, the bachelor lawyer spent so much time at the Dove’s Wings that he had little need to keep a staff at his home every hour of the day. The privacy suited Thal well.

  Chapter 28. Warnings of the Warlock

  The pace Sarputeen set put Johan’s relative youth to shame. He hurried behind the elder man who stalked toward the castle with the urgency of the Reaper. The shadow of the great castle fell across the men as they advanced toward it on the flagstone lane. They skirted the slower traffic impatiently. Johan’s skin crawled with anxiety because he feared that people would spot his deception. He had no idea what might happen if their attempt to enter the castle failed, but he expected that their fraud would be dealt with severely, as were all things.

  A pair of draft horses hauling a wagon laden with barrels snorted as the two werewolves went by. Johan glanced nervously at the driver, but the man seemed indifferent to the supposed monks. He shook
the reins and clucked at the shaggy backs of the horses.

  Johan decided to keep his eyes on Sarputeen’s straight back instead of flitting his gaze about in a guilty fashion. The sorcerer seemed to glide by the townsfolk without their caring.

  When Sarputeen came to an abrupt stop, Johan nearly ran into him.

  “What is it, my Lord?” he whispered.

  The entrance to the castle yard loomed ahead of them like the gates of Heaven. Blue and gold flags streamed from the ramparts, and guards in matching livery stood alongside the open gates. Johan hoped that their spears were ceremonial props even if he knew better.

  Sarputeen took a deep breath but did not immediately reply. His dark eyes appraised the stone walls as if he saw the ghosts of those who had battled for this place over the centuries. He related to the need to defend territory. He had heirs now to inherit his domain, and that worldly demand motivated him to lash out at Tekax.

  To Johan, he finally said, “Remember to call me Brother Miguel.”

  Johan nodded meekly before expressing his fears. “I don’t look like a monk. My hair is shaggy as a dog,” he fretted.

  Sarputeen ran a hand over the stubble on his head. “Worry not. It won’t matter,” he said.

  Faith in the wolf lord soothed Johan. He hustled dutifully behind Sarputeen and kept his chin up.

  The guards stepped into the traffic and escorted the duo aside. They asked the stranger’s their business.

  “Can you not see we’re Jesuits?” Sarputeen demanded. “We bear news from Prague. That’s our business.”

  The guard looked over the two men. He looked twice, but every time he regarded Sarputeen, those inscrutable eyes nudged something deep within his senses. Something that he was not well acquainted with but inclined to trust.

  “Welcome, Brother,” he said finally and sauntered back into his position by the gate.

  The sorcerer entered the castle without giving the guard another glance.

  In the courtyard, men were unloading a cart of evergreen wreaths meant for decking some hall. A hammer clanged in the smithy to shape a horseshoe, and the scent of baking bread drifted pleasantly in the air.