Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (24 page)

“He’s as curious as everyone else about you,”
Zsazi said.

“What’s curious about me?” he said.

A critical eyebrow lifted on her wizened
face.

“I suppose you told him about my fur,” Thal
grumbled.

“No…”

“But?” he pressed.

She looked at his fur that was draped over
his legs. The stunning wolf coat glistened with vitality.

“Are we safe in your presence?” she said with
deep motherly suspicion.

“You’ve taken my weapons,” he said.

“Are you a magic worker?” she demanded.

Her question proved that it was pointless to
lie to her. “Only upon myself,” he whispered.

She gasped, apparently not expecting such an
easy admission.

“Young man, you must renounce such Devil’s
works. For the sake of your soul,” she urged.

As a creature who had known the uncomplicated
purity of a natural existence, he possessed great comfort with the
state of his soul. It was the world around him that threatened his
spirit.

“May my good deeds be the guardian of my
soul. I have known only kindness in this place, and I shall show
you only kindness. I promise, my Lady,” he said.

She relaxed. His earnest promise made her
regret flinging accusations at him.

“Don’t show Augie the fur,” she said.

“You may hide it under my cloak for me,” Thal
said, knowing that she wanted to touch it again, despite her talk
of devils and souls.

She folded the fur over her arm, shuffled
over to the chair, and tucked it under his cloak. Her hand lingered
against its softness but she had been careful to avoid glimpsing
the writing again.

“Do you want help getting dressed?” she
asked.

“I’ll manage, thank you,” he said.

“Then expect Lord Patercek soon. Good night,
Thal,” she said.

“Sleep well,” he said.

She frowned. Normally she did sleep well, but
his presence unsettled her. An old woman knew when something was
amiss, but he seemed so lacking in malice. Zsazi told herself not
to judge too harshly or too quickly. People said terrible things
about her dear son too, but she still loved him.

Once Thal was alone again he dressed slowly.
Taking care to move his upper body as little as possible he slipped
on a shirt and tied up the laces. The linen was nicely woven and
felt sleek against his skin. The wool pants were dyed a deep blue.
At first he thought they were too tight but as he got used to them
he realized they were made to fit closely. The pants seemed
designed to emphasize his loins and thighs. He recalled seeing some
men dressed like this in towns he had passed through.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed trying
to decide if he should bother putting his boots on when he heard
footsteps in the hall. Pistol jumped into the doorway and greeted
the lord of the house.

Lord Patercek filled the doorway. He was tall
and well muscled from an active life, but he was thick around the
middle from lording over a bountiful estate. Not at many meals did
he miss meat.

The gray at his temples made his dark hair
look even darker. His meticulously trimmed beard was much frostier,
like snow clinging to freshly turned soil. A maroon doublet
outlined his belly and chest, and matching pants disappeared into
riding boots. Jeweled rings glittered in the light of the candle he
was holding.

Thal stood up and bowed a little.

“So our mysterious mercenary is going to
live,” Patercek said.

“I am not a man of war,” Thal said.

“But you carry weapons and give brave
battle,” Patercek countered.

“Perhaps defending myself comes easily to me
because the world is so dangerous,” Thal said.

Patercek chuckled, warming to him. He pulled
up a chair. “So you are the one they call Thal,” he said and put
the candlestick down with a thud.

“Thal Lesky of Prague,” he said, feeling the
need to be formal.

“And I’ll let you know that you are
benefitting from the hospitality of Augustus Patercek.”

“My thanks. I am in your debt,” Thal
said.

“Debt? That sounds exciting. How shall I make
you pay it,” Patercek said teasingly.

“I have a bit of coin,” Thal offered.

Patercek waved his hands like gnats were
between them. “I’ve enough coins to keep me happy,” he said. “Do
not think yourself indebted to me. ’Tis Christian to aid the hurt
and needy.” Leaning closer he added, “You could repay me by fixing
up your face. You’re a handsome lad but you need a proper trim. Let
Carlo work on you. He did a fine job on me today,” Patercek said
and traced the top edge of his beard with a finger.

Thal touched his scruffy face. He had tried
to cut in a goatee but had not thought of letting another man help
him.

“I’ll see to it as soon as I can, Lord
Patercek. I’m very grateful to you. My wound needed attention and
Lady Zsazi seems well able to cure me,” Thal said.

“Oh, yes, Mother can put people back
together. She even sewed one of my father’s fingers back on, or at
least that’s what he used to tell me,” Patercek said.

“I fear that I make her nervous,” Thal
said.

“She’s probably just trying to intimidate
you. Obviously you and your splendid friends are not bandits,”
Patercek said, not the least concerned.

“I expect you’ll be a little less troubled by
bandits, at least for a while,” Thal said.

Happy that Thal had raised the subject,
Patercek said, “Carlo tells me you killed six of them.”

Thal nodded as the brutality replayed in his
mind.

“You must jest,” Patercek said. “I assumed
Carlo was just trying to entertain me with wild tales.”

“It was six. I had good weapons and Pistol
held one by the ankle, which was most helpful,” Thal explained.

Patercek’s good natured skepticism budged a
little. “Well, there certainly would be six bandits to kill.
They’ve been getting worse. Dark days are ahead for Bohemia I fear.
Perhaps the whole Empire,” he said.

“Yet you see no need to raise your bridge,”
Thal noted.

Patercek ducked behind a hand to his
forehead. “I know. My bad judgment is quite indefensible.” He
laughed at his own joke and continued, “Truth is the damn old hulk
is broken. It’s so much more pleasing to pay for pretty things to
be built instead of fixing boring gears or I know not what. I’m
sure you admired my new great hall. It’s just finished last year,”
he said.

“Lovely, Lord Patercek,” Thal said.

“Thank you. If some army came into the vale,
I think we could draw up the bridge if we really put our backs into
it. And I’m blessed with living at the end of a road few turn down.
I’ve relied on my dogs to keep bandits out. Nothing ever gets by
Brutus and Lucky, well, until you,” Patercek said.

Rather pleased by his distinctiveness Thal
said, “I must thank Brutus and Lucky for endorsing me.”

“If I can’t trust their judgment, then I’ve
got nothing,” Patercek agreed.

He relaxed against his chair. Seeing Thal in
clothes he had not been able to fit into for ten years was a bit
disconcerting to Patercek, but maybe not in a bad way.

“Your friends tell me they rely upon you to
protect them,” Patercek said.

Thal suspected the amiable lord was trying to
cross reference details among his guests. Thal opted to be honest
and related an abbreviated account of their meeting in Budweis.

“I often hear nasty rumors about that mayor
being greedy and unfair, but I must declare that I understand his
temptation. Your associates made wondrous music last night. To let
such talent go will be hard,” Patercek said.

“I assure you Lord Patercek if you keep them
too long they will grow lazy and drink too much,” Thal said.

Patercek laughed, admiring how Thal put his
warning. “I pray they still have the verve to play well at my
banquet.”

“They’re looking forward to it,” Thal
said.

“I am too, even though it’s just a thrown
together affair on short notice. Just a few local families and
villagers, but it will be fun and I can gossip. I do love to
gossip,” Patercek confessed.

“Have you heard any good stories lately?”
Thal said.

“Oh, only local peasant nonsense, not
something I really believe but it does make good talk. Orsh was
telling me just a few days ago that he heard talk of a werewolf to
the south. That’s the direction you’ve come from. Have you heard
this?” Patercek asked.

Thal smiled. The glistening eyes of his host
begged for an exciting response. “I hear of these things too, but
consider this: Those bandits we encountered were most foul, but
they were men. With such nasty souls stalking the land people will
naturally turn to talk of monsters,” he said.

“Very reasonable of you,” Patercek commented,
more impressed than disappointed. He slapped his hands on his
thighs and stood up. “Back to your bed rest, my fine lad. Mother’s
orders,” he said.

“I feel I’ll be fit enough in another day. Is
there any work to be done?” Thal offered.

“You’re NOT a mercenary are you? They’re lazy
fellows unless harsh deeds are needed. So what skill do you have
that could help me?” Patercek said.

“Does my Lord like hunting?” Thal said.

The man’s face softened with affection.
“That’s one of my primary reasons for living in my country castle,”
he said.

“Then let me find you prize game for your
banquet table,” Thal said.

“A huntsman you are! Now that makes sense. We
shall plan a hunt if you feel able,” Patercek said.

“I do,” Thal said.

******

The next day was sunny and hot. Thal stood on
the ramparts with Patercek and the burly guard who was introduced
as Markus. Patercek had brought out his three muskets, and Markus
was busily loading them.

Out on the meadows surrounding the castle two
boys were toting out wicker frames with ragged canvas targets
stretched over them. Thal watched them place the last target and
then dash off as if they expected to get shot.

Patercek accepted a loaded musket from his
man and offered it to Thal. “This is my first one from Spain,”
Patercek said.

Thal accepted the hefty weapon with both
hands. It was more exciting to hold than his pistol. Its greater
range made it more threatening. Examining the decorative brass
plates on the stock, Thal saw little skeletons and angels in the
polished metal. The name Augustus Patercek was engraved beneath the
pictures.

Markus gave Thal a forked stick to prop up
the end of the gun. It took some of the weight off Thal and helped
him aim it. Running his hand up the barrel, Thal admired the
craftsmanship.

“Let me see you shoot it,” Patercek said.

“You first, my Lord,” Thal said.

Patercek smiled at the courtesy and stepped
up to receive the gun from Thal. Markus lit its match for his lord.
Patercek aimed carefully. The thunderous blast jolted everyone.
Patercek coughed at the blue smoke and laughed.

“You hit it!” Thal cried.

Patercek waved the smoke out of his face. “I
was aiming for the one on the right,” he said.

“Good thing there’s two targets then,” Thal
said, trying to stay positive.

“Markus, reload,” Patercek ordered.

When it was ready, Thal set up the heavy gun
on the fork and looked down it. Markus lit its fuse. Thal shuddered
from the loud discharge. The smoke stung his eyes as he squinted at
the targets. Neither target showed a sign of impact, but the wound
on his chest stung from the recoil.

“Try this one from Munich. It’s a wheel lock
like your pistol,” Patercek suggested and handed Thal the next
musket. It was lighter, shorter, and did not need the forked stick.
His second shot struck the edge of a target frame and knocked it
askew.

“Now for my new one from Nuremberg,” Patercek
said with obvious fondness.

Thal noted its construction was noticeably
more refined. Every part was fitted to a demanding perfection, and
it had less ornamentation except for a small circular plate showing
Patercek’s coat of arms. Thal hit the target close to the
center.

“Isn’t that satisfying?” Patercek said.
“Every gun is a little different. That’s the best one I have. It
will penetrate armor, even at a distance.”

“I’ll have to find you something exciting to
shoot at tomorrow,” Thal said, anticipating their hunt.

“Markus is a good archer and I still like a
good old fashioned spear, but we’ll take the two light muskets if
you want.”

The men continued to load and shoot. Like his
host, Thal found the newest musket to be the most reliable. They
had great fun, laughing at hits and misses and generally delighting
in the noise. Markus enjoyed a few shots himself as payment for all
his loading.

Patercek wiped some soot from Thal’s face.
“We go first thing tomorrow morning,” he said.

“I’ll be ready,” Thal said. “And thank you
for letting me shoot your guns.”

“You can carry the one from Munich. I’m still
too in love with my new one to share it,” Patercek said.

“I understand,” Thal said.

Patercek retired for the rest of the day as
is the privilege of castle lords, and Thal relaxed with his
friends. They were recuperating marvelously from their recent
ordeals, lounging about the castle, generally close to the kitchen,
and befriending the steward who controlled access to the beer and
wine.

When the sun dropped lazily toward evening
Thal feigned going to bed to rest for the hunt. He lay in bed while
twilight deepened over the castle. Gloom filled the hallway and he
smelled tallow candles being lit. When most of the servants had
settled in for the night, he got up and slipped outside. Pistol
padded after him and Brutus and Lucky greeted him in the courtyard.
Thal scratched their thick heads lovingly. They were powerful
beasts and their respect meant a lot to him.