Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (8 page)

“It does have words,” she said.

Thal eased it out of her small hand.
“Everyone must talk about me all the time,” he said.

“You’re very mysterious,” she explained,
unashamed of the gossiping.

“I don’t mean to be,” he said.

“Will you read it to me?” she asked.

The way she batted her eyelashes intrigued
him, but the meaning of the signal eluded him.

“I’ll carry your wood,” he said and hoisted
both bundles, one in each arm.

“Thanks,” Medina said and started down the
trail. She chattered to him pleasantly. While walking behind her,
he daydreamed about the contours of her body hidden beneath the
loose clothes.

When they got back to camp they delivered the
wood to Emerald’s area. Medina climbed into the back of the wagon
and started rummaging around. Emerald was sitting on a big rug with
two women from the nearby village. Sapling poles held a faded
canopy over them. One woman was older with a bent back and narrow
shoulders. Next to her was a plump rosy-cheeked lady with a swollen
belly. They were deeply involved in their conversation and did not
look up.

Thal recalled that he was supposed to avoid
attention so he sat down a discreet distance away. He observed them
slyly. Emerald sometimes flourished her hands and touched her
temple. Then she started waving her hands slowly over the woman’s
belly.

Thal gathered that she was pregnant. He
recalled the big bellies of his mates before pups were born, but he
pushed away the image. After only a few days in his man-form some
memories from his wolf life were feeling weird. His human mind was
asserting itself. He supposed that was why the young female had
been so interesting.

The village women concluded their meeting.
They gave Emerald a basket with yarn and two loaves of bread. They
seemed well pleased with whatever she had told them. Emerald tucked
her gifts into the back of her wagon and then climbed into it to
take a nap.

Thal crept away from the camp. In a sunny
spot where an old tree had died, he took out his fur and opened it
on his lap. The blood lettering was grim in the bright sunshine.
Recalling the sounds the priest had given some of the symbols, he
labored to sound the rest of the words out. Gradually more of the
letters reignited in his mind. He was literate after all, and he
quietly whispered the words. As he gained confidence that he was
pronouncing them correctly, he read them aloud again.

They became more familiar to Thal each time
he read them. Finally his memories buzzed to life like a shaken
hive of bees. From the depths of his mind the voice of his father
took over the reading. Thal remembered his father chanting the
words in a specific rhythm. Thal’s lips stopped moving and his skin
went cold as the past consumed his consciousness.

The icy glow of a full moon illuminated the
sky. Tall pines black against the night framed the moon. Their
boughs creaked in the wind. Thal was strapped naked across a cold
slab of stone. The moonlight twisted down the trees like frosted
lightning. He had been given something to drink. Some nasty potion
of his father’s brewing, but he had taken it willingly. Thal’s
father lifted the fur over him on the secret altar. The fresh blood
ink still glistened. His father’s chanting became more strident
until he was only howling. Then the howls of many wolves erupted.
The fluffy beasts filled the spaces between the trees. Their
shining eyes encircled the altar like a swarm of fireflies.

A raven screeched and Thal gasped. His
awareness returned to the sunny spot beside the Gypsy camp. The
raven cawed again and hopped around the bare weathered branches of
the dead tree.

Thal touched his chest. His heart was
hammering. The memories had been terrifying.

“Thank you friend raven,” he said to the
bird, grateful that it had snapped him out of the intense
flashback.

It cawed modestly and flapped down to the
ground near his feet.

“I’ve nothing for you,” Thal said.

The bird’s piercing black eyes regarded him
seriously.

Thal gestured to the lettering on the wolf
skin. “What do you think? Should I rid myself of this like the man
of God suggested?” he said.

The bird stayed silent.

Thal ran a hand over the fur. He was certain
now that it was crucial to transforming him into a wolf. It was the
only explanation for why it had been at his side after he had
returned to his man-form. But why had his father changed him? HOW
had his father changed him? Did Thal want to change back? That
question was at the heart of the matter. He was growing to like his
new body. He especially liked his hands. Being around people
excited him. There was so much to learn and do. He had mastered
life in the forest and perhaps it was time that he did new
things.

“But I’m not just a man am I?” he said.

The raven cackled and flew back into the
tree.

Thal went back to studying the words his
father had written. He still could not recall where his father had
lived, but he distinctly remembered living with his mother near
Prague. Thal resolved to ask Andreli how to get there. He must go
look for her. She might have answers.

“Thal? Thal?”

Andreli was calling him. Thal liked being
wanted. He waved to the raven and left his hiding spot.

Andreli spotted him when he emerged into the
worn ground of the camp.

“There you are. I have a question for you. Do
you know anything of playing cards?” he said.

Thal’s blank look did not surprise him.
“Worry not. We’ll teach you primero,” he said and gestured for Thal
to follow. They settled on a thick rug with exotic patterns with
Petro and another man named Sal.

Andreli said, “I’ve got an important way for
you to help us.”

“Good,” Thal said. He watched Sal slide a
stack of rigid decorated papers out of a cloth sack.

Andreli continued, “The roads will be busier
with the warmer weather. Once the moon starts filling up we can
expect more visitors at night. We’ll teach you to play primero
because sometimes we need an extra man to get a game going. And
well, to be honest, some of the local fellows are getting wary of
playing with us, but a new face will get them playing again because
that’s what they really want to do anyway.”

“But you asked me to stay out of the way,”
Thal reminded.

Andreli shrugged, dismissing his cautious
attitude. “Where’s the profit in that? All hands on deck to lift
the sails as a Venetian sailor would say, right?”

“As you wish,” Thal said.

Sal spread all the cards out face up on the
rug and explained them. Thal scanned the pictures stenciled in
bright colors. He easily memorized the look of the kings, queens,
jacks, and aces. The others were simply numbers two through seven.
He understood the symbols for the suits readily, but once Sal dealt
out the cards and they played a hand, the game became quite
mystifying. Andreli shared Thal’s hand and explained to him what to
do. He placed bets and then more bets and the other men did the
same or sometimes dropped out of the hand. Eventually two of them
got to a showdown and the hand with the highest score won the coins
that had been wagered. After about ten hands Thal was grasping the
basics of scoring although he gathered that the betting was a bit
of fine art.

When they took a break from the lesson,
Andreli explained that Thal was to tell other people that he was a
wanderer from Prague.

“He’ll need a last name,” Sal noted
gruffly.

“Yes, I suppose people will ask about your
surname. Let me guess, you don’t remember,” Andreli said.

“Lesky.” Thal answered so readily that
Andreli gaped in shock.

Petro laughed. “Ha, ha, ‘from the forest.’ A
nice choice, Thal,” he said.

Thal grinned to him agreeably. He was rather
pleased with it himself.

Andreli slapped Thal’s back. “Thal Lesky from
Prague it is,” he said. He gave Thal a handful of coins. “Your
stake. And don’t be afraid to lose,” he explained.

“Lose?” Thal wondered.

“Petro and Sal can concentrate on winning it
back plus hopefully everything else from our guests. But you need
to get them excited about playing,” Andreli advised.

Thal grasped the concept. He must lure the
prey into a false success so that they did not see the true
threat.

“I think we best practice some more,” Thal
said.

“Of course. Here, Sal give him the cards and
let him practice dealing. Remember as dealer you start the
betting,” Andreli said.

Thal felt clumsy with the cards at first, but
his nimble fingers soon gained some competence. He enjoyed the
interesting portraits on the cards and the sense of expectation and
occasional delight created by their random distribution to the
players. He was slow at adding his score and determining his bids,
but repeated efforts kindled better mathematical ability.

Andreli commented that his bluntness with
numbers was a nice touch for his persona.

At dusk they broke up their practice session.
The first quarter moon brightened the balmy spring evening, and
Thal looked forward anxiously to what the night would bring.

******

Three young men from the village ventured
first into the Gypsy camp. They did not seem to have any particular
aim except to gossip. Thal lounged near Andreli’s fire. After the
men sauntered by for a second time, he asked his host if he should
invite them to play primero.

“No. Those bumpkins couldn’t get a copper
between them if they had a fairy godmother to cheat,” Andreli
grumbled. “They’re just hoping something will cook up here and they
can enjoy some free entertainment.”

Thal glanced at the moon. The young crescent
only had a couple hours left in the sky. Then he heard horses on
the road.

“Someone’s coming,” he said.

Andreli did not hear anything but then the
dogs started barking. He took note of how keen Thal’s senses
were.

After running his fingers through his hair,
Andreli put his hat on. He stroked the peacock feather in the hat
for luck and stood up.

“Riders could be men from Rosenberg castle,”
he said hopefully. He gestured for Thal to stay behind.

Petro and Andreli greeted the newcomers at
the edge of camp. Boys rushed up to take the horses. They were fine
animals with good tack, but one shied unexpectedly when it was led
past Thal. The horse snorted and its wide eyes lolled at Thal. The
boy held on and tugged the horse away.

“Come meet our other guest. It appears he was
admiring your horses,” Andreli said, guiding the new visitors
toward Thal.

Thal faced them. They were strong men with
quality clothes and nice weapons. Good swords and knives advertised
their ability to finish fights, and the one with a paunch had a
pistol in his belt. He had a touch of gray in his beard and thick
locks of sandy hair cascaded from beneath his hat. His companion
was bare faced with darker hair. Both of them looked over Thal with
the critical eyes of locals inspecting an interloper.

“This is Jan Bradcek guard captain at the
castle,” Andreli introduced.

“Pleased to meet you. I am Thal Lesky of
Prague.” Thal said.

Jan raised an eyebrow. “Prague? What brings
you so far from home?” he asked.

“A pilgrimage to Rome,” Thal said.

Andreli twinkled with amusement. Thal
impressed him more each day.

Jan chuckled and looked at his friend. “On a
pilgrimage by yourself?” he asked, finding the statement boldly
incredulous.

“You may join me if you please,” Thal
said.

“I don’t get paid enough to visit the holy
city,” Jan grumped.

“I myself have only a small inheritance to
squander and thought I would see a bit of the world with it,” Thal
explained.

Andreli loved it.

“Well, I suppose you’ve seen a bit of Bohemia
at least,” Jan commented.

Andreli cleared his throat so he could finish
the introductions. “And with our esteemed captain is Lucas
Gardenzy.”

The two men nodded to each other.

“Thal only just joined us. I thought you’d be
entertained to see a new face. I’m so glad you came back. I’d
feared you’d decided we were boring,” Andreli said.

“A man’s face is not what I came to see,” Jan
said, but to Thal he added, “Not that I’m saying you’re not nice
looking.”

Lucas chuckled like it was an inside
joke.

Andreli called for music. A drummer and two
pipers emerged from the shadows. The three men from the village
cheered their arrival.

Andreli spread a nice rug by his fire for the
captain and his companion, and everyone sat down, except the
uninvited serf lads. After a look from Jan, Lucas flipped open his
sack and drew out two crockery bottles.

“A little birdie told me you’re thirsty,
Andreli,” Jan said.

“Parched, truly,” the Gypsy lord agreed
readily. “But I’ll venture that the little birdie was flightless as
a farmer’s goose and sings at the monastery.”

Jan unstoppered a bottle as a boy scurried
forth with cups. “Why that monk is so charitable toward you I can’t
imagine,” Jan said. He poured for everyone.

Andreli raised his drink in sincere
appreciation. “I thank you Captain for your most kind delivery, and
let me remind you why you enjoy our hospitality,” Andreli said.

One his cue the music changed tempo and three
dancing girls slinked out. Tambourines jingled in their hands.
Their arms and shoulders were bare. Bright cloth bound their torsos
and bright beads sewn into their bodices reflected the
firelight.

Thal saw Medina. A loose wispy skirt
fluttered around her thighs and she swayed beautifully with the
music like a flag on a balmy breeze.

She did not meet Thal’s intense gaze. She
focused on the guard captain. Her eyes flashed at him after every
spin. Her long wavy hair spun around her shoulders. She stayed
perfectly in step with her dancing partners, and they created a
fascinating female synergy.