Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (10 page)

“I’m not ready,” he confessed.

Emerald laughed. “That’s first I heard a
young man use that excuse. The girls aren’t going to wait for you
long, Thal. I suppose you don’t realize how handsome you are.”

He touched his chin. The stubble was longer
and he had figured that he looked rather scruffy. “Good night,” he
said.

******

Every evening the fattening moon stayed in
the sky a little longer and extended the camp festivities. More
people visited from the village. Music, games, drinking, and
dancing entertained everyone. Emerald engaged a few people in tarot
readings, and Thal got his chance to play primero. Jan and Lucas
came back on the same night that two imperial couriers were camping
nearby. Andreli and Thal played with the four men. Thal lost his
few precious coins most efficiently but felt that he had learned
more of the nuances of the game. He was surprised in the morning
when Andreli happily staked him again and told him to be ready that
night.

But the weather turned cool and rainy. For
several days the drizzly weather persisted and kept the camp quiet.
Thal hunted again with the men and dogs and poached another deer.
He helped with chores and spoke sometimes with Medina. This time he
recognized how she was flirting with him. Although curious about
her bodily charms, he remained carefully platonic. Knowing how she
contributed to her community subdued his attraction. He was used to
being the revered mate of glorious alpha females, and the chance to
be one man among many did not fire his enthusiasm. He wanted to be
more to a woman than just an entertaining trifle.

He spent more time examining his fur. Softly
he mouthed the words on it, and each time he heard them he felt
closer to understanding them. Emerald’s tarot reading had been
correct about secret knowledge.

When a morning dawned full of sunny
excitement, Andreli expected to enjoy a busy night. The Gypsy
leader got out his pistol and started cleaning it. Thal observed
with interest. Gerling brought over his pistol and borrowed a rag
from Andreli.

Gerling was the portly man who Thal had taken
the pistol from when he first entered camp. Thal still sensed some
apprehension from the man who had witnessed his feral energy up
close, but Gerling was making an effort to get past his first
impression because of Andreli’s fondness for the newcomer.

He showed Thal how the pistol worked and let
him trigger the firing mechanism a couple times without gunpowder
so he could see the spark.

The wooden stock of Andreli’s hefty pistol
had a dark patina and the brass embellishments had been lovingly
polished. He handed it to Thal who weighed the weapon in his
hands.

“How did you get this?” Thal asked.

“I salvaged it from a battlefield,” Andreli
said.

“A very fresh battlefield,” Gerling put in
while scrubbing his barrel.

“You have to be quick to get a weapon.
Something like this does not stay on the ground long,” Andreli
said. He took the weapon back from Thal and continued, “Lousy
barons shouldn’t fight their battle so close to my camp if they
don’t want things to come up missing.”

“Have you ever killed anyone with it?” Thal
said.

The question startled Andreli. “A man? No! I
shot at an old bear once to scare it off. To tell the truth, it’s
hard to hit a bull in a shithouse with this thing, but just holding
it will triple anyone’s respect for you. By the Saints, that’s
true.”

“Unless you haven’t the sense to be afraid,”
Gerling said, alluding to his first encounter with Thal.

“I was afraid. That’s why I had to take it
from you,” Thal explained.

Gerling chuckled. “Most practical of
you.”

The men showed Thal how to load the guns, but
they did not fire them. Gunpowder was hard to come by and not to be
wasted.

Thal watched with envy as the men lovingly
put their weapons in their wagons. Most people in camp had
noticeably cleaned and organized their possessions and were
packing.

“Where will we move to?” Thal wondered.

Andreli shrugged. Whatever direction he had
in mind he had not revealed to anyone yet. “You’re always so full
of questions,” he said.

“I have much to learn,” Thal said.

“You’ve mastered losing at cards,” Andreli
noted.

“You told me to lose.”

“I know. It makes our guests happy so they’ll
bring back more coin and play again. But hold back tonight. Give us
a chance to clean them out. We must bring in our harvest before we
move on,” Andreli explained.

Thal understood. He felt bad about
squandering coin even if it was part of Andreli’s plan. He would
try to restrain his play as directed, but he felt edgy and inclined
to action. A craving for excitement nagged at him.

At dusk Captain Jan showed up with Lucas and
another companion named Gruder. They were keen to gamble and did
not waste time with the dancing girls.

The pleasant weather drew out a couple dozen
people from the village, mostly young men but also some young
married couples who browsed the few oddities for sale. Lanterns
were strung between several wagons and singing and dancing ensued.
The gamblers were ensconced away from the noise on rugs by
Andreli’s wagon. Jan had brought bottles of wine and was kind
enough to share.

Thal enjoyed the strong fruity drink. As the
alcohol relaxed him he realized that he was nervous. The round moon
glimmering like an opal in the purplish sky kept drawing his
attention. In another life he had howled his songs and listened to
the chorus of his pack. In his mind he could almost hear the wolves
far back in the hills. He tried to push away the thought. His
broken heart still bled for his forsaken kin, but he was a man now
and had new concerns.

A flush of heat coursed through his body.
With a shrug he eased his fur off one shoulder and tried to
concentrate on the cards. He had a deuce and a four of different
suits. When his turn to bet came, he folded.

“Not so eager for cards tonight?” Jan
inquired, a touch disappointed.

“Everyone folds sometimes,” Thal said.

“He needs to save a few coppers to get back
on the road to Rome,” Andreli said.

“How did I forget your pilgrimage?” Jan said
and shook his head.

Indifferent to Jan’s snide attitude about his
reason for passing through the area, Thal watched the next round of
betting. Three men stayed in the hand. After two more cards were
dealt, Jan knocked out, satisfied with the potency of his hand. His
companion folded but Andreli called Jan’s bet and drew more cards
before knocking. The two men then had to reveal their hands.

“Christ on a stick!” Andreli swore and turned
away in disgust. His hand scored high, but Jan had a fluxus.

Laughing, Jan pulled in the coin pile. “I’ll
have to remember to leave you enough coin so you don’t have to beg
your way out of Rosenberg lands,” Jan said.

“The night is young,” Andreli grumbled.

Jan mollified his opponent with more wine.
Small pots and unmemorable hands filled the next hour, and the men
were content to chat and drink, but gradually the competition
intensified. Thal started betting more aggressively. After he won
three pots in a row, the men from the castle backed off.

“Someone’s been coaching you,” Lucas
said.

“I’d like to think I’m able to learn from my
mistakes,” Thal said cheerily. He stacked up his coins. The cool
metal clinking within his sensitive fingertips was pleasing. He
ignored Andreli’s questioning look.

Now that Thal had a better grasp of the
combinations of cards and the possibilities within any given hand,
he could pay greater attention to his opponents. He had a keen
sense for reading their body language and judging their feelings.
Subtle shifts in their moods were palpable to him, and he was
beginning to match their feelings to what cards were in their
hands. Thal even sensed deception from Gruder once. The man knew he
had a bad hand and was betting against him anyway. When Thal did
not fold, Gruder dropped out and abandoned the pot to him. Thal had
not realized that players could attempt to act like they had a good
hand when they did not.

But his opponents were generally genuine in
their beliefs about their hands, and Thal’s run of good cards
faded. He tried to restrain himself, but his taste for winning kept
prodding him back into the chase. His carefully stacked coins
eroded until only a meager hillock was left.

The slow drain of putting in his ante hand
after hand worried him. Finally when he caught a strong pair of
kings he stayed in the hand. All the players bet the first round.
More cards were dealt and Jan bet a bold amount that made everyone
fold except Thal. He had three kings at this point and could still
hope to get a fourth one. Even if he did not, his hand remained
strong.

But he sensed confidence from Jan as well.
The man had something decent. His burly bet was no bluff. For Thal
to put out the last of his coins was surely a gamble. He avoided
looking at Andreli, who radiated a lack of amusement.

Thal wished he had more money so he could
raise Jan and get a better sense of the man’s cards, but calling
was his only option. Silently he slid out the last of his
money.

The men’s eyes widened at the risky move and
then looked in unison at Jan for his reaction. A smile lifted the
captain’s beard.

“You wish you could raise me don’t you,
Lesky?” he surmised.

Thal regretted that his thoughts were so
obvious. He would have to work on that too he realized.

“Show me your cards,” he said.

“If you’re so sure you have the best hand,
why not try to win even more?” Jan said.

“There’s a goodly amount in this pot,” Thal
said.

“Raise with that lovely fur of yours and I’ll
put ten more thalers in,” Jan proposed.

“Want do you want with an old fur?” Thal
argued.

“It’s the nicest wolf fur I’ve ever seen. It
would look good added to my winter cloak,” Jan said.

Thal bristled with the natural need to reject
him, but this was the pot he needed to win to make things right
with Andreli. He could use some winnings for himself too. Depending
on Gypsy charity was slim pickings. His ragged sandals and
threadbare clothes were never going to impress anyone.

“How do you keep that fur so shiny?” Jan
asked.

Thal narrowed his eyes at the man who seemed
extraordinarily eager. Surely the captain had the means to get a
nice fur if he wanted one. Suddenly Thal realized that the man
wanted the fur because he believed there was something special
about it.

He could not risk losing it. But he wanted to
know why Jan wanted it. Did he know something about it? Thal
suspected many things about the fur. The seemingly meaningless
words whispering in his mind were becoming meaningful. Like
listening to a beautiful song in a foreign language, he was
beginning to feel the knowledge.

“This fur is a dear family heirloom,” he
said. He pulled it off his shoulders because he was sweaty.

Jan joked to his companions, “The rag man has
an heirloom.”

“Traveling in poor clothes keeps the bandits
away,” Thal explained coolly.

“Then accept my bet. If you lose, you’ll make
your costume more effective,” Jan said.

“I’d keep more bandits away with that
pistol,” Thal said.

Jan caressed the weapon at his belt. It was
his turn to feel violated by someone’s interest in a precious
possession.

“I’ll bet my fur against your pistol and
powder horn,” Thal proposed.

“This is worth more than ten thalers,” Jan
protested.

“That’s my offer. The fur against the pistol.
If you don’t like it, just show your cards. I matched your bet
already,” Thal said.

Conflicting desires played across Jan’s face.
Something about the fur sorely tempted him. Thal decided that if he
lost the fur, he would stalk Jan and find out what he did with it.
Perhaps he knew something about such things and Thal could learn
crucial information. Then he would take the fur back. He would
steal it without guilt because it was his.

And if he won, then he would have the pistol,
which he wanted with a need akin to avarice.

“I’ll take the wager,” Jan decided.

His startled companions choked on their
protests. They knew Jan had no interest in the opinions of his
underlings. The deal was Gruder’s and he asked Thal if he wanted to
discard and draw.

“One card,” Thal said and set one on the
playing area. Gruder dealt him a new card. Thal pulled it into his
hand. He locked away his reaction, determined to deny Jan any hint
of what the next moments would bring.

Andreli spoke up. “Captain, I’d think it
proper to place your pistol on the pot.”

“I don’t need a Gypsy to tell me what’s
proper,” Jan groused.

Careful to hide the lettering, Thal folded
his fur in thirds and set it next to the coins. His shining eyes
goaded Jan to follow his example.

“You’ll not win,” Jan said as he pulled the
pistol out. The lamplight showed its brass details with golden
twinkles. The thick curving handle was smooth hardwood. The
straight smooth metal barrel was dull and surely indifferent to the
power it could exert upon a man’s fortunes.

Ready to squash the hopes of his opponent,
Jan flipped his cards with a triumphant flourish. Andreli groaned
to see that Jan had a supremus, but then the Gypsy leader looked to
Thal who spread his cards for all to see. He had gotten his fourth
king and the pot was his.

“You cheated!” Jan exploded.

“Your man dealt!” Andreli cried, ready to
defend the win.

Thal reached for the pistol. Jan flopped
forward meaning to take it back, but Thal was quicker. He pulled
the pistol close to his chest, snatched up his fur, and jumped to
his feet. All the men were on their feet in a trice.