Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (39 page)

Vito was unsurprised by the broad hint.
Prospecting for gold was bred into the agents of any town hall.
Very aptly did Greed dance hourly on the great clock outside.
Delicately he said, “Our brothers shall encourage good men to
volunteer for the protection of their fellows.” When Martin’s face
fell with disappointment, Vito added, “But if you could put into
writing a request for assistance, I would take it to my
superiors.”

“It will be done,” Martin said.

“You show a Godly heart to seek Church
assistance,” Vito said. “But I’m here to offer advice as well. I
suggest we catch the beast when it’s in the shape of a man.”

“But how do we know who the man is?” Martin
said. “Am I looking for some half naked madman mumbling in a
ditch?”

“He may not be so obviously corrupted of the
soul,” Vito said and then related his brief encounter with
Thal.

“And you think this Thal is the werewolf?”
Martin said.

“That or he’s the sorcerer who made the
beasts,” Vito said.

“Everyone must keep in mind that this Thal is
likely very powerful,” Zussek interjected. “The incident at
Mirotice showed an abnormal power. The beast appeared without a
full moon. Commonly this is not believed possible for a werebeast
to accomplish, but I could have an explanation.”

He paused to pull in the attention of the men
more fully and continued, “In an eastern text of Muscovy origin I
found new information. It took me a while to plow through the
mangled Latin, but it told of a sorcerer who possessed an enchanted
charm that controlled his shapeshifting. Such a thing would make
for an exceptionally powerful beast. One that still possessed the
intelligence of a man and all his cunning.”

“What was the charm?” Martin demanded, not
wishing to indulge his friend’s habit of dramatically drawing out
details.

“In this story it was a wolf fur,” Zussek
said.

“So we’re looking for a man with a wolf fur,”
Martin said, determined to be practical.

“I’m quoting from a very old legend. I can’t
be sure,” Zussek said.

“I have some sellswords in my employ who
escorted my party from Rome,” Vito said. “They would recognize our
man. With your permission Magistrate I can send them to aid your
hunting parties.”

“Gladly I accept,” Martin said. “Have them
report to Constable Bekcek at the jail.”

“Ah, your jail. Is it strong enough to hold a
beast? If we catch this man alive, I’d wish for him to have a
chance to confess his sins before prosecution.” Vito said.

“My jail is very secure. No one has ever
escaped. We can hold him,” Martin said. He would have preferred a
quick kill, especially since the beast was loose in Old Town, but a
sensational trial would boost his prestige and hopefully inspire
enhanced funding for the Court.

“Very good. I appreciate your cooperation,”
Vito said.

“I am the servant of the powers that be,”
Martin said. Rising, he told his visitors that he had another
important appointment and could indulge them no longer. He saw the
men to the door. He rubbed the side of his face and noticed that he
had not shaved that morning. He made a mental note to spruce
himself up before meeting with the Burgomeister.

Pistol jumped up on Thal’s bed and licked his
face. Wincing and groaning, Thal pushed his little dog away. He
wanted to nap all day, but Pistol kept prancing up and down his
bed.

Thal got up and let the dog out. Pistol
disappeared down the hall. In his room he found a fresh basin of
water. He vaguely recalled the pot boy coming and going earlier.
After he splashed cool water on his face his stomach growled
demandingly. Some hunk of bread was not going to suffice today. He
wanted meat.

He counted his coins and figured he could
take his friends out on the town. Since returning to Prague, he had
spent too much time alone and transformed. He wanted their cheerful
companionship to balance his violent grief. His shock needed to
ease so he could avoid acting in blind anger. He had no desire to
pay for what his enemies would call crimes.

While getting dressed he reflected on
Rainer’s vicious killing spree that he had interrupted last night.
Such erratic slaughtering did not make sense to Thal and he feared
for the man’s sanity.

Before he went out on the town he had some
apologizing to do. Thal found the pot boy and told him to come with
him. The boy followed, pleased to have Thal’s attention. In the
inner garden Thal cut a rose and handed it to the boy.

“Mind the thorns,” he said.

The boy stared at the rose. The flower’s
yellow petals swirled with perfect symmetry. Its fragrance was
addictive and a great contrast to hauling chamber pots.

“Take that to Lady Carmelita and tell her I
beg for her to indulge me with an audience so that I may
apologize,” Thal instructed.

The boy trotted off with the rose held out
like it was a fragile vase.

A maid admitted the boy to the Lady’s private
wing where she was enjoying a light lunch with the Condottiere.
Smiling with surprise, Carmelita accepted the rose from the
boy.

“It’s beautiful but you’re not supposed to
pick these,” she said.

“Um, Thal sends it. He wishes to apologize.
Can he see you?” the boy said.

Carmelita looked at the stem. “At least he
did not shoot it off,” she said.

“No, Ladyship, he didn’t shoot his gun just
like he said he wouldn’t,” the pot boy agreed, advocating for the
man.

“Run fetch him,” she said.

Carmelita twirled the rose under her nose.
She did not allow anyone in the household to pick the precious
roses, but she excused Thal’s presumption because he had done it
for her.

“I thought you said that man had no interest
in you,” Valentino remarked and bit into a boiled egg.

“Jealousy does not become you,” she said.

“The Hell it doesn’t,” he argued.

Carmelita giggled and took another rosy
sniff. The yellow ones smelled the most wonderful. “He had to send
me some token to mollify me after the way he ran off last night,”
she said.

Valentino finished his egg and kicked back in
his chair. His silk robe slid back from a hard, blackly-haired
chest. “I wanted a better chance to converse with your huntsman
too, especially before you introduce him to our associates,” he
said.

“Augie wrote me that he’s very strong, deadly
even. Our associates will need strong hard men to support them when
the time comes,” she said.

“Deadly?”

Carmelita leaned over the little table.
“Apparently he killed six bandits all by himself,” she
whispered.

The Condottiere raised his eyebrows, duly
impressed. He knew that killing was not easy work, at least not at
close range. “So the song his musicians sing about him is true?” he
said.

Carmelita nodded silently because Thal’s
footsteps were in the hall. The maid let him enter and he bowed to
his hostess.

“Thank you for seeing me, my Lady,” he
said.

“I should really throw you out,” she
pouted.

“If that is your will, I will go,” he
said.

A whirl of the rose under her dainty nose
sweetened her temper. “It’s no fun if it upsets you not,” she
said.

“I don’t fear finding my way in the world
whether I am your guest or not,” Thal said. “But please allow me to
offer my apology for leaving last night when you wished me to stay.
I shall attempt to avoid such rudeness in the future.”

“That’s a comfort,” Carmelita said,
unimpressed by his empty words.

Tired of the exchange, Valentino coughed
ceremoniously. “So Huntsman did you find the creature?” he
inquired.

“I did.”

Jolting with surprise, Carmelita asked, “Did
you kill it?”

“Nay, my Lady. The thing was very large and
that would not be an easy task. It killed at least three horses and
two men last night before I found him,” Thal explained.

“Truly?” Valentino asked. The streets had to
be abuzz with the news and his lackadaisical morning had prevented
him from hearing any of it. “How did you survive then?” he
asked.

“I can observe a beast without inviting
attack, usually,” Thal said.

“What was it?” Carmelita said.

“A werewolf.”

She gasped and pressed her hand against her
mouth. She had heard of such things haunting the land, but never in
the city.

“I heard some talk of such things on my trip
up here from Milan,” Valentino said.

“There’s more talk all the time, for obvious
reasons,” Thal said.

“And since you’re such a great huntsman I
imagine you’ll be organizing a hunt for it,” Valentino said.

Thal sensed the challenge in the
Condottiere’s words. The man had doubts about him, which irked
Thal, but he did not feel overly concerned about impressing him
either.

“Is it her Ladyship’s wish that I hunt it?”
Thal asked.

That her wish could arouse him to action
pleased Carmelita. If her man did catch the werewolf terrifying the
city, she would gain some fame, but she was not sure if it was the
type of attention she craved.

“I imagine the City Council will offer some
bounty. I need not add to that,” she said.

Thal had not considered that a bounty would
be offered for the werewolf’s death, and he worried for Rainer. If
the man acted like he did last night, it would only be a matter of
time before he got shot.

Carmelita continued, “I think it best to have
you guard this home and my family from this raving werewolf. That
would comfort me far more that having you hunting it when many
others will surely attend to that task.”

“Most practical, my Lady. I shall return here
by sundown and watch over you,” Thal said.

“Where are you going?” Valentino said.

“I wish to take my friends out. We’ve hardly
begun to explore Prague since arriving. Can you recommend a place
to get a good meal?” Thal said.

Valentino said, “In the Little Quarter the
Magic Flag offers good food at a fair price that still keeps out
riffraff.”

“We shall look for it,” Thal said.

“Do you think that werewolf will emerge again
tonight?” Valentino said.

“It may,” Thal answered, expecting that the
moon was still sufficiently full to trigger Rainer’s beast
magic.

“Do come back as you said you would,”
Carmelita said.

Vulnerability had replaced her bossiness, and
Thal reminded himself that he had promised Patercek to look after
his sister’s well being. Growing worried that Rainer might come
looking for him, he said, “I will be here.”

His sincerity relaxed her. “You may go,” she
said and gestured to the door.

Carmelita watched his cloak swing from strong
shoulders with each confident stride he took away from her. When
she turned, Valentino’s glower confronted her.

“Oh, I can’t help liking him,” she
admitted.

“You’re a more honest widow than wife,”
Valentino remarked.

“He’s far too common for me to seduce so you
can stop being jealous,” she said.

“I don’t think he’s common at all,” Valentino
murmured.

“To be honest, I think everyone likes him,”
she added.

“He does have charisma,” he agreed.

“See, you like him too,” Carmelita said. She
got up and slid into his lap. His strong hands that commanded men
and pleased women squeezed her hips.

“I like you more,” he said.

“I should hope so,” she said playfully and
kissed him.

******

Thal found his friends predictably in the
kitchen. A gaggle of servants flocked to him when he entered and
battered him with questions. The gossip sweeping the city had them
in a rare dither.

Pistol scampered to Thal’s heels and yipped.
Thal held up his hands and called for quiet. The servants
obediently hushed themselves as if he were about to reveal a divine
message. Even Thal was surprised by the response.

Regis said, “I told them you would have all
the answers about the beast.”

“I have some,” Thal said and then shared the
same details he had spoken to Carmelita. A cook asked him if would
hunt down the beast. Thal told him it was their Ladyship’s wish
that he guard the house and he would. This news pleased the
servants who beamed as if they now enjoyed a special privilege.

Trying to discourage their interest Thal slid
onto the bench next to Carlo.

“Get him food,” Carlo said.

The crowd dispersed to their duties and
someone brought Thal a bowl of oat gruel and boiled eggs. He
gobbled the eggs but picked at his gruel.

“Let me take you out today,” he said.

The musicians naturally agreed.

Regis drained his cup of watered wine and
said, “I just remembered you wanted advice about a girl.”

Raphael and Carlo exclaimed happily and in
unison asked who it was.

“I saw her in Old Town,” Thal said. The
sudden heaviness of his mood made his friends think he was
especially smitten.

Carlo presumed to touch Thal’s face. “We
should trim you up before you go. Make you pretty,” he said.

After glancing among his shaggy companions
Thal decided they would find a barber. “And Carmelita should be
sending you a tailor soon. I got her to agree to get you new
clothes,” he added.

The news pleased his friends who thanked him
for taking such good care of them.

Eager for the day the men left the house. The
streets were busy and chatter about the murders was easy to
overhear. When they saw a red and white barber pole, they entered
the shop. A man having a tooth drawn was yowling piteously beneath
the strong hands of the barber’s burly assistant.

Regis blanched at the sight and declared he
felt little need for a shave. Carlo put him in a seat and told him
to toughen up. The wretched customer was soon finished and sent
away with bloody rags stuffed in his mouth. The barber washed his
hands and appeared pleased to perform a more pleasant task.