by Tracy Falbe
“Grazie,” he said reduced to the language of his birth.
Sarputeen took some subtle pleasure from the gratitude. He had been using his powers more in recent days than he had in many years. He felt forces building inside him that he had mastered as a younger man. He intended now to draw upon them for grandiose works. The preparation of a healing draught for this Condottiere counted only as a small deed compared to what he expected to do.
Sarputeen remembered why he preferred the peace of the forest and the mountains. Such places were right and good for him. Traveling among the folk again stirred his powers over people, and he remembered fully the trickster pleasures of making them do his bidding. These clusters of dull-eyed sheep called towns had no faculty to resist his deceptions.
Breaking out of his reverie, Sarputeen said, “Have that servant heat water and wash this good fellow. Altea, fix him a plate of food.”
Thal helped Valentino into the kitchen and set him in a chair. Ansel and Mitri oversaw the sleepy manservant as he fetched a pail of water for the kettle. Altea took food from the lawyer’s pantry to prepare a meal.
Valentino’s fine manners failed when she set a plate in front of him. He shoved bread into his mouth and chewed the sliced meat as quick as a weasel. His tiny moans of pleasure indicated the depth of his hunger. He rapidly cleaned his plate, plucking up every crumb with his fingers.
Sitting back, he put his hands over the hard bulge in his shriveled belly. The food startled his insides, but he welcomed the discomfort.
He raised grateful eyes to Thal. He marveled at the presence of his most extraordinary friend. Knowing how trouble swirled around the great werewolf, Valentino said, “You’ve gotten more subtle since Prague. My escape was most bloodless.”
Thal chuckled. “We haven’t gotten out of town yet.”
Chapter 32. Door to Door
Janfelter awoke with the covers tossed away from his body. He appreciated the soft sheets that caressed his skin with supple luxury, but he grew too warm beneath coverings.
Sliding from the bed, he stretched like a cat that was in no hurry to kill but certainly expected to commit bloody deeds. He pissed in the pot and wrinkled his nose as his pungent urine assaulted the air.
He found the water in the pitcher to be icy cold. No servants had dared to slip in and make sure that Welser’s guest had hot water. The fear Janfelter inflicted on the household satisfied him.
The domestic underlings would soon be rid of him as long as the promised mercenaries were assembled by the time that he was dressed. Otherwise, he planned to horrify the banker with blood letting. The slaughter might even draw out the wolf. Janfelter still could not fathom what had drawn Thal and Sarputeen to this town. No clue upon their trail had pointed toward their purpose, except to draw him onward.
Janfelter paused in his toilette to contemplate the possibility that they had set a trap for him here, but Pressburg seemed to offer Sarputeen no advantage. He did not know the sorcerer to have any influence in this town.
Janfelter patted his face dry with a linen towel and accepted the unknowns swirling around him. If a trap existed, the mercenaries might make the difference, and Janfelter intended to find Thal first.
He pondered his upcoming battle as he buckled his armor in place. He tapped his fingers against the metal guarding his stomach. Thal’s jaws and blunt claws could not tear into his guts again.
He went to the window to look down on the stable yard. A crew of men with wide shoulders and weapons had gathered. Snow had fallen in the night, and the tracks of their horses and boots left a chaotic design in the fresh whiteness.
Janfelter counted ten of them. He combed his hair and donned his helmet before exiting the room. He surprised a maid at the bottom of the stairs. She gasped and darted away like a bird. Janfelter strode through the house and went out to take command of his new minions.
The men closed ranks a bit as he approached. Janfelter suspected that they were a single crew that followed a captain. Realistically, the banker could not have been expected to accomplish much more in a single night. He judged their numbers sufficient to shield him.
Each one of the grizzled mercenaries regarded him with judgmental eyes. They were fellows accustomed to taking orders for pay, but they were wary of foolish patrons.
“I’m Janfelter,” he announced.
“Trendel,” the ringleader said. He crossed his thick arms and offered no more introductions.
“Trendel, thank you for joining me this morning. We must search the city. The notorious werewolf Thal Lesky has come here. This is your chance to do the Empire a great service,” Janfelter said.
Trendel exchanged a look with another man. This news about the shape shifter explained the big bag of coins hastily shoved into his hands under cover of darkness. The princely pay hinted broadly at a true emergency.
He coughed and spat into the snow. Janfelter resisted the urge to cringe at the sight of the phlegm against the holiday snow.
“So you must be the only bounty hunter daft enough to still chase that curse,” Trendel said.
“He’s flesh and blood and can be killed,” Janfelter said adamantly.
“I think we’ll need to be paid more than what’s been offered,” Trendel announced.
Janfelter entertained the idea of dragging Welser out of the house and making the banker pay up. The cost mattered not to Janfelter, but he chose to assert himself with this seasoned mercenary, who was probably just testing his mettle anyway.
“You can have half of the reward,” Janfelter proposed. He had no need to collect the bounty.
Trendel pursed his lips thoughtfully as if perplexed by his hesitancy to snatch up a chance at more coin.
“Half it is then,” Trendel agreed abruptly and extended a hand.
Janfelter shook hands with the man and noted the mercenary’s subtle recoil from his touch.
“How are we to search the city?” Trendel asked. “One man can be hard to find.”
“He’s not alone. Both men and women are in his company,” Janfelter explained. Starting toward the stable to retrieve his horse, he said, “We’ll go door to door and flush him out.”
******
Thal and Mileko prowled the empty streets. A red-nosed dawn had just peeped over the horizon, and most everyone in Pressburg stayed tucked into their beds on this frosty morning. The stillness granted the two men privacy in the urban environment in the moments before matrons swept snow from steps, maids milked cows, and children fetched wood.
Shutters were closed at the home of Arvin Kramer. Some smoke still rose from a chimney in his hall where a great fire had crackled and warmed his guests.
Thal tested the front door and found it unlatched. The cold hinges creaked as he and Mileko entered. Those guests who had not made it home the night before were bundled near the hearth. Plates and chalices littered the tables. A cat stood on a buffet eating flaky bits of fish from a skeleton on a platter. The cat hissed at Thal and dashed away, yet no one woke as Thal and Mileko stole through the hall.
Thal located the musicians. They occupied a loft in an adjoining room. Blankets wrapped them, and they rested their heads on their musical instrument cases. For a moment, he admired the sight of them, recalling their pleasant and loyal company.
He took a knee next to Regis and gently shook his shoulder.
“Regis, it’s Thal,” he whispered.
The Venetian shifted irritably, devoted to his sleep.
“It’s Thal,” he repeated, and his friend’s eyes finally opened. He sat up and looked around with fear.
“You’re fine,” Thal said. “I’ve come to say goodbye.”
“So truly we are to part ways,” Regis said sadly.
“Are you volunteering to come with me to Hungary?” Thal teased.
“No.”
“Was Kramer kind to you last night?” Thal asked.
“We did not speak,” Regis said.
“Well, I asked him to board you until sprin
g. Be sure to remind him,” Thal said.
“Thank you, but even if he proves faithless, I think we’ll do well enough here. We impressed a few other gentlemen last night. Our talents are wanted,” Regis reported.
“Good,” Thal said, pleased that his friends had the means to find their way in the world but sad about their parting.
Raphael and Carlo woke up, and Thal wished them farewell. They each embraced, and Carlo kissed Thal’s cheeks.
“You need a shave,” he admonished.
“I’ll have to attend to my appearance at another time,” Thal said, rubbing his beard.
“You still look good,” Carlo assured him.
“I’m lucky that way,” Thal said but then grew serious and warned his friends to stay inside for a few days because the fext was in town.
“Have you found Valentino?” Regis asked.
“Found? I’ve done better. He’s free already. His lawyer aided his escape very greatly although under protest,” Thal said.
The musicians expressed their relief that the Condottiere no longer rotted in prison.
“Now I must pay the master of this house another visit,” Thal said. “Take care of yourselves my friends. I’ll miss your songs.”
“Music tames the wild beast,” Raphael observed.
They indulged in another round of embraces. The Venetians told Thal to send Altea their affection. They then shook hands with Mileko, who mustered a polite goodbye.
Thal and Mileko hurried toward a staircase. At the top, the floorboards creaked, but the slumbering household remained impervious to the intrusion. No one was in a hurry to wake up and clean the mess from the party.
Thal had little trouble finding the master’s chamber. He entered the bedroom and parted the curtains around the bed.
Arvin Kramer was rolled up in a blanket alone. The draft created by the opening of the curtains made him nuzzle his blanket. Thal seized him and clamped a hand over his mouth to keep him from shouting. Mileko opened the curtains on the other side of the bed and aided Thal in restraining the man.
As shock drove Kramer into full wakefulness, Thal said, “The business I have with you depends on discretion. You must not yell for your manservant.”
After a terrified glance toward the darkly clad accomplice pinning his legs, Kramer decided that he might try quiet conversation. No one in his house had the slightest chance of disarming these rogues anyway.
Thal released his mouth and said, “You’re a merchant. That means you either have trading vessels on the river or you know who does.”
The near normalcy of the subject relaxed Kramer a little. He understood that some commercial enterprises required stealth although he tried not to be involved in such affairs.
“Go to the docks if you seek a boat,” Kramer advised bravely.
“Could I hire one from you?” Thal asked. He took out a purse and poured it into Kramer’s lap. Gold and silver coins, filched from the lawyer’s reserves, clinked temptingly on the blanket.
Kramer touched them. “What’s your cargo?” he asked.
“Just people and a horse,” Thal said.
Kramer glanced at the two men violating his bedchamber. Mileko’s mysterious gaze granted him no insights, and when he looked at Thal his skin prickled with instinctive fear.
“Who are you?” he whispered.
“It was my understanding that most people have heard my name,” Thal said.
Despite wanting to put on a brave face, Kramer swallowed. “Leave me be,” he said and pushed the coins out of his lap.
Sincerely, Thal continued, “I’d rather not steal a boat. If you send me away, I might steal one of yours or maybe someone else’s. My conscious would prefer that I compensated you.”
Mileko added, “You must have associates downriver. We could even leave your boat with one of your trading partners. You’d lose nothing. As he said, we do not mean to be criminals, but we retain the option.”
“It really is my desire not to deal with criminals,” Kramer insisted, hoping for sympathy.
“Do you have a rival whose boat you’d prefer I steal?” Thal proposed.
Kramer smiled uncomfortably. The name of a contemptible competitor came to mind, but he said, “I’d not wish theft upon another.”
“Then we our both honorable men, and you will let us hire your boat,” Thal urged.
Kramer hesitated as if giving himself yet another chance to wake from a bad dream.
Thal started plucking the coins from the bedding. “I guess we’ll just steal whichever boats suits us,” he decided.
“Wait,” Kramer said. “I’ve a boat that will suit you. It hasn’t even been loaded with new cargo yet.”
“Very good,” Thal said. “Tell my associate the details of its location and thank you.”
The men let Kramer get out of his bed. The merchant fumbled through getting on slippers and struggled to get his arms into a robe. “Are you not worried that I’ll keep your money and report you to the City Guard?” he wondered.
Thal gestured to the coins on the bed. “It’s not exactly my money, and you should ask yourself how competent you consider this City Guard of yours. Because if they prove insufficient against me, your betrayal will provoke my temper.”
Kramer swallowed.
Shifting away from his threat, Thal said cheerfully. “The City Guard is not my chief concern. They’re not who I wish to elude.”
“What does that mean?” Kramer whispered as if some supernatural force could be eavesdropping.
“I recommend you stay inside, especially tonight,” Thal cautioned.
Kramer nodded. The events were starting to overwhelm him. Images of the beautiful blonde woman from the party flashed through his mind along with the lyrics from the Venetians’ song. Kramer decided that he would not again randomly invite people from the market square into his home.
Morning light was peeking through the shutters, and he could see the man a little more clearly. He had a strange air about him. His charms enticed curiosity, affection even, as if they shared some kinship that must be recognized.
The disoriented merchant watched the rogue depart his chamber. Kramer grasped again at the thought that he was only having some odd dream after his party, but the man in black remained annoyingly in his presence.
“Get dressed. You’ll personally show me this boat,” Mileko said and tossed the man’s hose at him.
******
Thal left the home confident that Mileko would secure the boat. He traveled an alley, alert for trouble. People were stirring in most households. He took care to stand clear when he saw someone toting a chamber pot out the back door. When he reached a street, he lingered in the shadows and scanned the avenue. In the distance, he heard some abnormal shouting. The clatter of a mounted group moved on another street nearby. Thal quickly assessed the few people walking on the street and chose the perfect moment to dart across into another alley without anyone noticing him.
He rushed along this alley, and the noise grew louder on the street ahead of him. Staying hidden, he saw riders clogging the street. Two of them were on foot and pounding on doors. Thal could not quite overhear their demands upon the people who answered the doors, but the man in the center of the mounted group made an announcement.
“We seek strangers. They would have just reached town. A notorious magic user wanted by the crown and the Church is here. Tell us if you’ve seen him.”
The words pierced the air precisely. His eastern accent disturbed the locals who heard it.
Janfelter! Thal pressed more closely to the building and watched his nemesis intently. This rare opportunity to view the fext in secret held his attention although his heart beat with alarm.
Janfelter reeked of overripe arrogance that proved he felt no guilt for his deeds. Thal thought of the people who had been killed in Strecno and recognized that he bore some responsibility. If not for him, the fext would not have even approached Zilina.
The best he could do was dest
roy this thing and make sure that it hurt no others in its pursuit of him. Not daring to linger any longer, he hurried away to rejoin his father.
******
The sunny morning startled Valentino awake. Although he had barely been asleep a few hours, the faint slices of sunshine bursting through the shutters’ edges alarmed his senses diminished by darkness.
He froze in the bed, momentarily forgetful of what had happened until the memory of his miraculous escape returned. The good linen and thick wool blanket shocked his body. He sniffed the air and appreciated its delicate lack of foulness. The lawyer’s nightshirt covered his body that a rather worried servant had helped him scrub in the wee hours of the morning before he had collapsed.
The light scrape of claws on the wood floor alerted Valentino that he was not alone. A small dog got up from a bundle of blankets and stretched back and forth. A woman sat up from the bedding.
“Awake already?” she whispered.
Her accent was pure Prague and made him ache for the company of his wife.
Altea got up and went to his bedside. She rubbed sleepiness from her eyes and bent over him with concern. Her loose hair fell forward as she set a hand on his forehead.
“You should sleep more,” she advised.
He still had not fully processed what his wife must have gone through to find Thal at his father’s remote castle. That she had bothered for his sake at all amazed him after he had destroyed her life with his insistence on immediate marriage.
“I cannot believe Thal came for me,” he moaned.
“He owed you much. We owed you much,” Altea said.
“He is in my debt no more,” Valentino declared. “The prison was so awful. I thought I was strong, but...” He trailed off, silenced by the enormity of the despair that had assailed him for uncountable days.
“I failed Carmelita so utterly. I don’t deserve this mercy,” he confessed.
Altea pulled a blanket over his chest. “Deserving and mercy have little to do with each other,” she said.
Downstairs she heard the back door open and shut. Her mind was better able now to decode the sounds that she heard, and she recognized the tread of Thal’s boots on the floor. She stood as he came up the stairs, anticipating fondly his entry.
