by Jack Yeovil
Johann made an excuse and left.
He thought about Wolf. And he thought about Harald Kleindeinst, wondering if he had done the right thing by setting the watchman on the trail.
It was too late to step back.
In an hour, he would join the von Liebewitzes and venture out into the fog.
Perhaps there would be answers out there.
They were waiting for him at the Wayfarer's Rest. He had been delayed by the business with Joost Rademakers. Dickon was being stupid and would suffer for it later. He should have known that Rademakers on his own wouldn't have a chance against Filthy Harald. The captain always had underestimated him.
The whole city was going mad in this fog. The Luitpoldstrasse Station had been snowed under with bleeding citizens, complaining of assaults, robberies and arson. Harald had seen three Knights Templars roughing up a couple of Fish and left them to it. There were Imperial Militiamen hanging around with the watch, getting in the way.
Dickon had sent a runner to the fire-fighters, to help with the burning carriages in the Street of a Hundred Taverns, but he had either got lost, got killed or found the fire service busy elsewhere.
He could tell straight away that Rosanna and Elsaesser had news for him.
'Out with it,' he said. 'Elsaesser, speak slowly, no repetitions, no gabble.'
'Trudi Ursin's missing boyfriend is Wolf Mecklenberg'
'Von Mecklenberg,' put in Rosanna.
'The elector's brother.'
Harald bit down hard on the nugget, to see how it tasted. It wasn't good.
'But the baron was interested in the Beast before Trudi turned up dead,' he reasoned. 'Which suggests that he knows something we don't.'
'There's more,' said the scryer. 'It's common knowledge that the baron's brother was abducted as a child, by Chaos knights'
'It was a bandit called Cicatrice,' said Elsaesser. 'I'd heard the story, but never made the connection'
'Wolf was rescued,' explained Rosanna, 'and purged of the warp-stone. But maybe there's still something inside.'
Harald imagined a young man in a frenzy, tearing at a girl with claws and teeth.
'Scryer, is Wolf the Beast?' he asked.
She thought hard, not wanting to say anything until she was certain.
'I'll put it this way: do you think he's the Beast?'
'It's it's not impossible. I've been through some of his clothes, trying to find traces. He has an aura of violence, of confusion. Also, he suffers from terrible guilt.'
'But that doesn't make him our killer?'
'No,' she admitted. 'There are a lot of violent people in this city.'
She was looking at him. There was still a splash of Rademakers's blood on his coat.
'That's true,' he said.
'What should we do?' asked Elsaesser.
'You take Baron Johann,' he ordered. 'Get over to the palace and stick to him like a lashworm in case his brother shows up. Tell him I've sent you for his own protection. Make up some story. Convince him that there's a rumour going around that he's the killer and the vigilantes are after him. That's probably true. There are rumours going around that everyone's the killer. Dickon is trying to convince the Hooks that it's me, and hopes they'll put me out of the way.'
Elsaesser saluted.
'Rosanna,' Harald continued, 'you stick with me. We'll try and find this Wolf of yours. He may not be the killer, but he's certainly got some questions to answer.'
'He's a Leaguer,' Elsaesser said. 'You could start at their hall. It's not far.'
'Also,' said Rosanna, 'he's on weirdroot. He might be trying to buy some of the stuff.'
'That's something to start with.'
Elsaesser pulled on his peaked cap and left.
'Lad,' Harald said after him, 'be careful.'
The officer said, 'I will be,' and left.
Harald felt the aches of his fight with Rademakers disappearing. The old copper feeling was coming back. It wasn't just nausea, it was a tightness in the pit of his stomach that he recognized as excitement.
'You want him, don't you?' said the scryer.
'Yes, I do.'
'Dead or alive?'
'Either way, Rosanna. Just so long as we stop him, I don't care.'
'Dead, then.'
'That's safest, I admit.'
'Dead, yes. I agree. Dead.'
'Selecting your sword, viscount?'
There was a perfume in the air that he recognized. Knowing he was in for a tedious scene, Leos ran a chamois leather along the edge of his blade and turned to pay attention.
'Dany,' he said, pointing at a comely throat with the foil, 'do not overestimate your importance in the order of things.'
The favourite pouted, ringlets shaking.
'Testy this evening, aren't we?'
'I have to go out.'
'With the countess? You are much in her company.'
The sword point did not shake. It was fixed in the air. He was still in perfect condition, the muscles of his shoulders, arms and legs gave him pleasure as he stretched, extending his steel. Von Tuchtenhagen's champion hadn't strained him at all.
'I could kill you, you know. Quite easily.'
'But would that be honourable?'
'Honour is a matter for gentlemen. Between us, it's different.'
Dany laughed, a girlish giggle, and brushed Leos's sword away.
'It certainly is, dearest.'
Leos scabbarded his blade and felt its weight on his hip. With his weapon in place, he felt whole again.
'You killed this morning?'
'Twice.'
'Did it give you an appetite?'
Dany tried to kiss him, but he pushed the favourite away.
'Not now.'
'Temper, temper. You know, Leos, when you are angry I can quite see the quality in you that made poor Clothilde of Averheim swoon so dramatically. I hear the little fool is ruined for all other men after your callous treatment of her. Such a shame. Hot little bitch too, I'd heard. The young men of her city must curse you in their prayers.'
'Dany, you can be extraordinarily tiresome at times.'
'I thought I had a certain degree of license. After all, I am an intimate of the family.
Leos felt the killing chill in his heart.
'You're sailing into choppy waters, Dany. You might well encounter the odd wreck.'
'Wrecks by the name of the Graf von Tuchtenhagen, or the Bassanio Bassarde, or what were the other names?'
'You know them as well as I do.'
'Not quite as well. Mo one ever forgets their kills.'
Dany was playing with silk handkerchiefs, running fingers under them, examining the shifting patterns.
'My sister has tired of you, you know,' Leos said, spitefully. 'She has a more important admirer.'
'Bitch,' spat Dany.
Leos gave one of his rare laughs. 'Hurts, doesn't it? Have you met the current paramour? Very distinguished, they say, and highly influential. Between them, the countess and he could decide the fate of the Empire.'
Dany made a fist, crumpling silk.
'Before von Tuchtenhagen and Bassarde, I had to kill others. You are right. I remember the names: Cleric-Captain Voegler of the Order of the Fiery Heart, young von Rohrbach, even a commoner or two, Peder Novak, Karoli Vares'
Dany tried to counterfeit a lack of fear.
'It's a long list. Perhaps my sister provokes too many insults for her own good. But many of them were quite close to her at one time or another. The ways of her heart are unpredictable.'
The favourite looked away.
'And so, Dany my dear, are the ways of mine.'
Leos took the favourite's shoulders and turned a pretty face around to look into his eyes. Dany's pupils were contracting, a sign of over-fondness for weirdroot.
'Aren't my hands strong, Dany dear?'
Leos forced his mouth against Dany's and kissed him. The viscount tasted the favourite's fear.
'Maybe you won't be the favourite
much longer?'
Dany broke away and wiped his mouth with his silk, spitting into it. He had been shaking, but now his confidence was coming back.
'I'll never duel with you, Leos,' he said.
Leos smiled. 'And I'll never ask you.'
'After all,' Dany said bitterly, 'now the countess has done with me, it is not as if I lacked for female company?'
The favourite smiled.
'And my girlfriend's name is still von Liebewitz.'
Leos backhanded Dany across the mouth, rouging his lips with blood.
'You should be more careful; family favourite. If it ever entered your head to tell what you know, or what you think you know, you would be dead before the first story crept out of your mouth. Remember that.'
Dany slunk away and flung himself face-down upon the bed. He was not crying out loud.
Leos finished dressing. Johann would be waiting at the coach. Emmanuelle would be late, as usual.
Leos was interested in spending some time alone with the Elector of Sudenland. The man had a mysterious, attractive air.
And he was after something.
V
'Etienne,' said the dancer, Milizia, 'is this appropriate?'
The Bretonnian ambassador cast an eye on the girl's costume. It was tight in the right places and cut away to display her body. It was a gravity-defying miracle.
'Wondrous to behold, my sweet,' he said, 'now leave us alone. We men have business that must be discussed. The landlord will feed you in your dressing room and I shall send for you later.'
Milizia curtseyed, setting herself wobbling like a jelly on a plate and withdrew. De la Rougierre felt his amorous spirits rising again and fingered the waxed ends of his moustaches.
'The lady,' began Dien Ch'ing, 'is most substantial.'
De la Rougierre laughed out loud. The Celestial was a sly one.
'You have no women the like of our Milizia in Ear Cathay, I'll bet.'
'No, indeed we do not.'
'More's the pity, eh? Tell me, those sailors' stories about the girls of the East'
Ch'ing waved his serious anthropological inquiry aside and tapped the papers on the desk.
'This treaty, de la Rougierre. Tonight, I would like to see our guests put their seals to it. It is most important.'
'Of course, of course, but nothing is more important than love, my friend, nothing'
The Celestial gave a thin smile. 'As you say.'
'But after love, there must be war, eh?'
De la Rougierre thumped his barrel chest. 'The Bretonnians are as renowned for their prowess on the battlefield as in the boudoir, my friend. The foeman trembles when the armies of Charles de la Tete d'Or III are on the march.'
'So I am given to understand. I am a poor stranger in these lands, but even I have heard of the high reputation of the Bretonnians.'
The dwarf clapped his hands like an excited child and lifted his goblet. The Celestial was a fine man, a fine diplomat.
'This treaty will be the start of a great campaign against the Dark Lands, a campaign that will strike at the goblins in their homes. It will be magnificent.'
'Of course,' the Bretonnian agreed, 'with a de la Rougierre in it, it could hardly be anything but magnificent!'
'That is indeed so.'
'I'm glad to hear you agree with me. I'll call for another bottle of this establishment's best Quenelles rose and we'll drink a toast to our victory over the dark.'
Ch'ing laughed softly, almost under his breath.
For an instant, de la Rougierre felt as if someone were tickling his skeleton with a roc feather. There were shadows in this room and he could swear that there was something small lurking up in one of the corners, hanging from the ceiling, spying on them with glittering eyes. When he looked again, there was nothing there.
The wine arrived.
'Our guests will be here soon,' de la Rougierre told the landlord. 'Make sure they are conducted up here with no trouble. These are important people.'
The landlord, who was taking more money for this private party than he usually did in any given three month period, was nervously obsequious and assured the Bretonnian that all that could be done would be done or he would know the reason for it and be using a stick on his staff.
The Celestial sipped his wine.
'Wonderful vintage, is it not? The best wines in the world are Bretonnian. And the best wine-drinkers.'
De la Rougierre drained his goblet, then refilled it.
He thought of Big Women.
Getting across the city to the palace had not been easy. Two of the main bridges had been blocked, Emperor Karl-Franz Bridge by the wreckage of a couple of carts and an armed band of Hooks, and Three Toll Bridge by the Knights Templar and the Imperial Militia, who had sealed off each end and were keeping some unfortunate travellers penned between their positions.
In the end, Elsaesser found a lone ferryman and paid him over the odds.
Out in the fog, everything seemed peaceful. But he could see the flickering of distant fires in the East End and hear shouts of anger and pain.
'Bad fog,' said the boatman, 'worse than the coronation year and that was as bad as it's ever been.'
A rowing boat floated by, keel-up.
'Nothing as bad as fog, unless it's torrential rain with thunder and lightning.'
There was a series of splashes. Some people were being thrown off one of the docks.
'Maybe an earthquake would be worse, if we ever got them. Or the Southlands hail where the stones are the size of coaches.'
Everyone was busy tonight: the watch, the Templars, the Hooks, the Fish, the militia, the fire-fighters.
That would make things easy for the Beast if he wanted to venture out.
'Of course, an invasion of hideously altered beastmen would put a bit of a dent in trade and spoil everyone's day.'
To Elsaesser, it was personal now. He felt as if it were just him and the Beast. That wasn't true, of course. There was Captain Kleindeinst and Rosanna.
'And a rain of fire from the skies, called down by a black wizard, would be just awful.'
And Baron Johann? He was with them, wasn't he?
'You have to look on the bright side in the ferry business.'
Elsaesser was sure the baron wasn't trying to protect the Beast. That would not make sense. Even if his brother were the killer, the baron would want him stopped, if not necessarily executed.
'Here you are, sir. Have a nice evening.'
He paid the man and ran all the way to the palace. He passed more Knights of the Fiery Heart, marching from the Temple, armour clanking.
Reinforcements. They were talking about taking on the enemy and putting them to the rout, but none of them seemed to know which enemy. After some discussion, they decided they were probably supposed to put down a rebellion in the notoriously slack and untrustworthy palace guard.
The portcullis was down, but Elsaesser had wound up with Baron Johann's imperially-sealed document and that was enough to get him into the palace. None of the men on the gate knew where the baron was, and neither did the steward he bumped into in the courtyard.
Elsaesser had never been inside the palace before and was surprised at how big it was. You could fit his entire town into its walls. Even without the fog drifting through the courtyards, it would be easy to get lost in the place.
He saw a slim young man striding across towards some outbuildings, looking as if he knew where he was going.
'Excuse me, sir,' Elsaesser asked.
The man turned. He wore one of those damned green velvet cloaks that were causing such trouble.
'I beg your pardon,' he said, 'do I know you, officer?'
'No,' he admitted and the courtier sneered, as if Elsaesser were committing a grave offence by talking to someone to whom he had not been introduced.
The officer remembered Professor Brustellin's lectures. This man was typical of the aristocratic cancers the great man had diagnosed, handsome in an unmanly sort of
way, with a bred-in-the-bone contempt for anyone without a lineage.
'I'm with the watch,' Elsaesser explained. 'I need to see Baron Johann Mecklenberg.'
'Von Mecklenberg, I think you mean.'
'Yes, of course, von Mecklenberg,' said Elsaesser, impatient. 'Do you know where he is?'
The youth looked amused. 'I'm going to meet him now, at our carriage. Is it really necessary that you disturb him?'
'Oh yes, he'll thank you for conveying me to him. It's to do with the Beast.'
The aristocrat dropped his effete pose and looked serious, a single line appearing between his fine brows.
'Viscount Leos von Liebewitz,' he said, not extending his gloved hand. 'Come on, hurry up.'
They walked through the fog and soon the outlines of a coach were discernible. The baron stood beside it.
'Elsaesser,' he said, 'what are you doing here?'
The viscount stood back, faint in the fog, and Elsaesser wondered why the man was so brittle. There was more than just aristocratic distance in it. He was acting like a jealous girl.
'Captain Kleindeinst sent me. I'm your bodyguard.'
The baron laughed, not unkindly.
'You don't seem the type.'
'Sorry, sir.'
'No, fine, it's a good idea. You can fill me in on your progress'
Elsaesser knew that would come up and wondered whether he should tell the baron what they had learned about his brother's relationship with the last victim.
'You've met Leos, I see.'
The viscount emerged from the fog, his face a mask.
'Elsaesser and I have been hunting the Beast.'
'The murderer of commoners? I'm surprised at your interest, Johann.'
Elsaesser felt something pass between the baron and the viscount. All these titles confused him and the subtle tensions that went along with them were worse. He was glad he only had to deal with Hooks and Fish, and murderers.
The baron ignored the viscount's implied criticism and turned to talk with Elsaesser. 'Leos is a champion swordsman. He'll be useful in the fog, I think.'
The viscount smiled sheepishly and tried to shake off the compliment.
