Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (14 page)

“I didn’t know he did that,” Martin
grumbled.

“Forgive me then. I should have mentioned it
to you sooner,” Zussek said.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” Martin said.
“It’s just a little box,” he added, presumably finding its demonic
potency dubious.

“Inside is the Devil’s own hair, taken from
the hand of the witch. I’m certain of it,” Zussek said with
authority.

Martin commented, “Yes, that’s hair.” Altea
assumed he had opened the box. “Why are you showing me this?”

Altea imagined Zussek’s disappointment at her
stepfather’s lack of excitement at what sounded so shocking. He was
famous for not showing excitement. The professor said, “Martin, I
wanted to impress upon you the importance of this witch situation.
Our society is beset by evil from within as well as without.”

Martin chuckled. “I assure you I get to
oversee the tedious details of that truth most every day.”

“This is serious,” the professor
insisted.

“I know, and I’ve never hesitated in my duty
to see the worst of this world sent from it. If the Church sends us
heretics and witches to prosecute, we’ll do it. If the King wants
traitors hanged, they’ll swing. If the rabble gets in a froth about
some hag hexing the cows, the Court is ready to deliver judgment,
as long as there’s somebody to pay the Court’s costs.”

“I know,” Zussek said. “Forgive me, my
friend. I know you do your best, but this charm is very disturbing.
I wanted to talk to you about this particular witch. You knew her.
She had been in this very home many times.”

“What are you implying?” Martin said, growing
defensive.

“Nothing. These magic workers ensnare all
manner of decent folk,” Zussek said soothingly.

Quietly Martin admitted, “I had come to
wonder if my wife was under some kind of spell from that woman. She
always tried to avoid the doctors I brought to her. Always she
wanted Gretchen. She delivered all the boys…”

“Did you notice anything extraordinary about
her case?” Zussek said.

“It was reported to me that she was
attempting suicide when she was caught,” Martin divulged.

“Aha! She was trying to invoke some dark
spell. I’m sure of it. We must be vigilant. More’s to come of
this,” Zussek declared.

“More? What do you mean?” Martin said. The
nervousness in his voice was strange for Altea to hear.

“There’s great wickedness throughout the
whole Empire. All these heretics are a sure sign that the folk are
sick with witchcraft and devilry. It’s been building for years,”
Zussek said.

“I think we made good headway against it this
spring,” Martin said.

“But what if this Gretchen cast some curse?
Her blood is dried all over this Devil’s lock. That’s a fearsome
sign. These suicide attempts are common I’ve found, but I’ve never
seen one so closely associated with such a strange charm,” Zussek
said.

Martin gulped the last drops of his drink and
then said, “I did not mind seeing Gretchen go. When her accomplices
named her a witch, I was not surprised. In retrospect it made me
suspect that she had hastened the death of my dear wife.”

Altea went cold. Her mind flashed back to
that final night when Gretchen had visited. Mother had begged for
her, and Altea had sent a neighbor woman to fetch her from outside
the city wall. Altea shut her eyes. She hated the memories. She
tried not to think about them. She tried not to believe, but she
had overheard her mother asking for something to bring her to the
end of the pain.

With a shudder Altea shook off the trauma and
put her ear back to the door.

“We should destroy this lock of hair,” Martin
said.

“It’s for my collection,” Zussek said.

“We should destroy all evidence of her and
any possible connection to me,” Martin said.

“There’s nothing to specifically link it to
you. It’ll just be an example of Devil worshipper relics in my
collection. I’ll be publishing a book on the subject soon.
Actually, I’d like to be your expert witness when these type of
cases arise again…and they will,” Zussek said.

“Expert witness? Zussek, they confess during
interrogation. We hardly need witnesses,” Martin said.

“But my testimony would add value to the
proceedings and better excite the public imagination and make your
work appear most important. It’ll also impress upon the Court’s
patrons the importance of continued compensation in the pursuit of
this problem. We need to keep our leaders fixed on this menace and
excite the people with details,” Zussek said.

“Oh, I see,” Martin said thoughtfully. “And I
have your word not to mention that witch’s interaction with my
family?”

“I swear,” Zussek said.

“Well I suppose everyone has to trust a
lawyer eventually,” Martin said. Both men laughed.

Zussek said, “And don’t worry too much.
Everyone had contact with that last slew of witches. Everyone wants
to forget it and move on, but there will be more devilry to come. I
promise you.”

“Since you’re the expert what do you think it
will be?” Martin asked.

Altea held her breath to make sure she heard
clearly.

“Young lady, what are you doing?” Hynek
said.

She whirled and was face-to-face with the
valet. The old creep was in his slippers and she had not heard him
because she was so absorbed in eavesdropping.

“You know what I was doing,” she hissed
without shame.

“The Master will hear of this,” Hynek said,
staring her down.

Uncowed Altea knocked on the door herself.
Martin said enter. She poked her head inside. Her sweet smile
instantly beguiled the professor as she greeted him politely.

“Papa Fridrich, when I realized you had a
guest I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed because
Hynek had gone to bed,” she said.

Hynek shouldered his way by her and said,
“She was eavesdropping.”

“I was not!” Altea cried. “If you weren’t so
lackadaisical about your duties, I wouldn’t have needed to come
down here. I was just trying to figure out who was here.”

Outrage crinkled Hynek’s wrinkled face.

“We’re all right. Both of you go,” Martin
said.

Altea scanned the table and saw Zussek grab a
little corroded silver box. “I should be going,” he said.

“I’ll see you out,” Martin offered.

Altea and the valet backed into the hall
while Martin stepped out in the street with his departing guest.
While they talked some more, Altea concentrated on diverting
Hynek’s accusations.

“My stepfather’s thinking of replacing you if
you don’t start performing better,” she said with cold
seriousness.

The stark possibility of being retired
disturbed the valet.

Altea continued, “It’d be a shame if I had to
speak ill of you.”

Regaining some sense of self defense, Hynek
hissed, “You’ve no influence with him, you orphan girl of a
penniless knight.”

The hostile words were somewhat true, but
Altea did not flinch. “All of his sons value my word and he’ll
listen to them,” she said.

Hynek grumbled but accepted that victory was
hers.

Martin came back in the house. He sensed the
squabble between his stepdaughter and valet and wanted nothing to
do with the irritation. Hynek opened his mouth to speak, but Martin
cut him off. “I wish to be alone. Both of you stop bothering me
with petty things.”

Altea curtsied to him and headed toward the
stair. She ignored the stabbing look from the valet, who also
retreated down the hall.

She was not worried about him. Other thoughts
consumed her as she climbed the stairs. In her room, she removed
her shirt and dress while reflecting on her memories. She had never
sensed any malice in Gretchen. The old midwife had been kind and
exceptionally knowledgeable. Even now, Altea could not discount the
esteem her mother had shown for the woman.

The nasty dismay that had afflicted Altea
when Gretchen had been executed welled up inside her. She had tried
to quell her grief when it had happened. Her stepfather had
insisted that Gretchen was a villain, but now Altea fell upon her
bed and wept for the lost woman. Her tears were for her mother as
well. The tragedies were intertwined. Altea confronted the
possibility that Gretchen had given her mother some deadly potion
to end her life. But her mother had begged for it. If Gretchen had
done it, then Altea told herself it was sinful witchcraft, but the
end of her mother’s suffering had not been a bad thing. Her
suffering had been so bad in the final days. Her disease had seemed
to be eating her from the inside. The ended pain had been Altea’s
only solace.

She stared at the wall with her head on a
pillow. Her blonde hair was splashed around her in a disorderly
heap, and tears dried coolly on her face.

Gradually she forced herself to shake off the
disturbing questions. Lingering on her grief would bring no
happiness, and Altea still hoped for a happy life. She should be
grateful that her soul had not been corrupted by contact with a
witch, but according to Professor Zussek the danger remained.

Natural curiosity nagged at her imagination.
Irritated with the valet again, she wished that he had not
interrupted her. Zussek had been on the verge of revealing his
opinion.

The existence of the little silver box and
its Devil’s hair fascinated Altea. She wondered if the old woman
had left behind any other charms related to her powers.

Jakub paused to admire his handiwork. He was
crafting an ornate gate for a new home and was finally pleased with
the results. Tomorrow he would be able to connect the lettering
twisted from wrought iron to the coat of arms he had fashioned. The
gyrfalcon in the coat of arms had been vexing. His first attempt
had gone back in the fire, but this version was worthy of his
mark.

Running a finger through the looping details,
Jakub savored his creation. Nothing ever left his shop unless he
decided that it could pass inspection with the whole of Budweis.
His days of making meat tongs and horseshoes were well behind him,
but he believed a man should put the best part of his soul into his
work, no matter how humble.

Thunder rumbled and clouds overtook the
slanting golden rays outside the shop doors. Rain started
pattering. He had dismissed his journeymen and apprentices for the
day already. He liked to have his smithy to himself so he could
reflect on the day’s work.

A little dog surprised him by trotting into
his shop on perky legs. Its scruffy brown and white fur was blotchy
from raindrops. The dog barked once and wagged its tail.

“Hello, pup,” Jakub said and put his hands on
his hips. He did not recognize the animal as belonging to any
neighbors, and a smithy seemed an unlikely place for a dog to do
some begging.

“Methinks you seek the sausage maker around
the corner,” Jakub said.

The dog scooted closer. Unable to resist the
ingratiating little beast, Jakub bent to pat its head. From the
corner of his eye he glimpsed movement at the door and straightened
quickly. A cloaked man had slipped inside. His body had been just a
flicker of slick movement against the cloudy dusk.

Jakub grabbed up a hefty hammer. “Be gone
slinker!” he cried.

The intruder moved farther inside but did not
expose himself to a window. He pulled down his hood and raised his
hands in a peaceful fashion.

“Good evening. Please forgive my intrusion,”
he said.

“Who are you?” Jakub said impatiently. He
kept the hammer up and was quite confident in his ability to fend
off an attack.

“My name is Thal.”

“Don’t know you lad,” Jakub said. Despite the
gloom of the shop, he discerned a young man with a pleasing face
and thick glossy hair. His eyes gleamed with an unexpected
intensity.

“I seek Jakub the Smith,” Thal said.

“Who sent you?”

“Andreli Suprinova.”

Jakub groaned knowingly but visibly relaxed.
“You haven’t the speech like a Gypsy,” he commented.

“I was among them only a short time. They are
not my kin. I hail from Prague,” Thal said.

“So those beggars are going to try their luck
in Budweis again?” Jakub asked.

“Not right now, but Andreli told me that
Jakub could help me with something on my journey home. Are you
Jakub?” Thal asked for confirmation.

The smith nodded and set down his hammer.
Pistol snuffled through the ashy dirt and disappeared behind poles
and boxes.

“I normally help people when there’s
daylight,” Jakub said.

“Andreli mentioned that you are discreet on
some matters,” Thal said.

“Ah,” Jakub murmured, unsurprised because
Andreli was involved. Jakub dabbled in affairs that were not
entirely a matter of written records mostly because he gained some
excitement from it.

Thal slowly moved his cloak back over his
shoulders to show off the armor.

“That’s nice metal,” Jakub remarked. He
grabbed a lantern and went to his banked fire and lit it off a
coal. Bringing the light, he inspected Thal’s chest. “This is of
Rosenberg Castle,” he said. He lifted the lantern and looked at
Thal for a quite a while. “You’re not of Rosenberg Castle are you?”
he surmised.

Thal smiled, trying to be charming.

“So you need to get rid of it don’t you?”
Jakub said.

“Andreli said that you’d deal with me
fairly,” Thal said.

“Well, that’s quite a thing you’ve stolen
there. Oh, a pistol too,” Jakub said and his eyes twinkled.

“I’ll be keeping the pistol,” Thal said
pointedly.

“I suppose a thief would want that,” Jakub
agreed.

“I’m not a thief,” Thal said.

“So you just woke up in this situation?” the
smith said sarcastically.

“I’ll tell you the story if you want to hear
it,” Thal said.