Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (41 page)

Two women arrived bearing trays. They passed
out heavy pewter plates of steaming roast beef slices sloshing in
au jus. They left a bowl of shredded horseradish along with eating
knives and more bread. Valentino got out his own knife and cut into
his meat.

Thal dove into his dinner enthusiastically.
The beef was succulent. Its meaty chewiness with a lingering
bloodiness briefly drove all else from his mind. Pistol put his
front paws on the bench and placed his chin on Thal’s thigh. His
brown eyes gazed upon his master with piteous need. Thal pulled off
the darker fire-kissed edges of each meat slice and dropped them to
the floor for his dog.

While the men ate, Valentino kept the
conversation casual. He spoke mostly Italian with the musicians.
They talked of home villages and the convoluted quarrels of various
states on their complicated peninsula.

When they were done eating the woman came by
and refilled their mugs.

“Condottiere, I suppose you would know a good
place for me to get another pistol. I’d rather have two,” Thal
said.

“Two are better than one,” Valentino agreed
and patted the pair of pistols in his belt. “Tell me, Thal, how are
you at riding horses?”

Carlo chuckled. “Horses no like him,” he
said. His friends shared a smile.

“I just have not met the right horse yet,”
Thal said.

Valentino frowned. “I’ll have to teach you,”
he muttered.

“I did not ask about horses,” Thal said.

“Oh, yes, a pistol. I have connections with
good gunsmiths in Prague, but you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t
name names right now. My main fellow’s shop is under exclusive
contract to the crown, but he knows how to discreetly make side
deals. Like servants in the master’s pantry so to speak. I’ll take
you there tomorrow if you like,” Valentino explained.

“Can I get armor too?” Thal said.

Valentino looked down his nose. “You can’t
possibly have money for that. Men who win battles earn such
things,” he said.

“And you have won battles,” Thal
surmised.

“Many,” Valentino bragged. “Stick with me and
you can win battles too.”

“War is not my business,” Thal said.

“That’s right, you are the huntsman who plays
nursemaid to musicians. No offense,” Valentino added to the
Venetians at the table.

“We would be prisoners or worse if not for
Thal,” Raphael defended.

“We need him,” Regis said, not wishing to see
Thal shackled to the Condottiere’s dark duties.

“I’m not rushing off to fight in any wars,”
Thal assured them. “I simply asked for some help buying another
gun.”

“There’s money to be made in war,” Valentino
said.

“Then why do soldiers always want for pay?”
Thal asked.

“Commanders get paid far more often,”
Valentino said. “You could be a commander. I can see that men will
follow you.”

Thal did not doubt that assessment, but
knowing he could control men, and perhaps even inspire them to
violent deeds if need be, was not the same as wishing to do so.

“I want no part in killing for no reason,”
Thal said.

“Oh someone has a reason every time, and he’s
the one paying to put men in the field,” Valentino said to
alleviate Thal’s ignorance.

“My killing is done for my own reasons,” Thal
specified.

“So the huntsman does kill more than just
animals in the forest, as I’ve heard,” Valentino said.

“Thal stood in our defense against bandits.
We employ him as our bodyguard,” Regis said, quite
possessively.

“And there’s no competing with what a
musician can pay,” Valentino joked.

Regis did not like the direction of this
conversation at all. He would have to keep reinforcing his message
of peace with Thal.

“I think my friend is clear about not wanting
to be in your war business,” Regis said.

Valentino stirred the horseradish left on his
plate, making it pink with bloody juice. “Perhaps he has not
considered the opportunities that soldiering provides criminals.
Serving a good cause has spared many a man the gallows,” he
said.

“Don’t let him threaten you,” Regis said
hotly.

“We’re just talking,” Thal said, and his
friend reluctantly shut his mouth. “What cause have you to call me
a criminal?” Thal wondered with faux innocence.

Valentino smiled. His full lips framed good
teeth. “I’m the sort of man who also knows bounty hunters,” he
said.

“Is there some bounty offered for me?” Thal
said.

“Letters are circulating Bohemia offering
twenty gold florins for your capture on charges of Devil worship
and shape changing, among other things,” Valentino said. He had
just learned these details that afternoon after engaging in some
strategic gossip.

“Is twenty gold florins a lot?” Thal
said.

Valentino laughed, recognizing a man who
possessed no remorse for his crimes. “It’s not bad,” he judged.

“It matters not. I won’t be caught,” Thal
said.

“Be reasonable, man! You have to sleep.
Someone will get to you, but I can protect you. We’ll give you a
new name and I’ll set you up as one of my commanders. With a little
training you’ll be magnificent. Wars are brewing, more than usual,
and the powers that be won’t be scrutinizing who’s making things
happen for them on the ground,” Valentino said.

An outburst of loud voices in the main dining
room erupted into a shouting match between two men. Regis leaned
out of the alcove to look. A big woman smacked the fighters, but
the argument still intensified. The men were dragged outside.

Thal paid little heed to the action. He
stared at the table, deep in thought.

“Do you believe the charges against me?” he
asked quietly under the noise.

Valentino shrugged. “I don’t care. The way
the world is going I’m going to be called a heretic or worse no
matter which side I work for.”

“I don’t worship the Devil,” Thal insisted.
His lack of denial about shape changing implied admission of it.
Valentino looked to the musicians to see if they were shocked, but
apparently Thal’s unholy habits were not news to them. The
Condottiere suddenly wondered if he was grabbing a tiger by its
tail, as the silk traders would say. But he was a man accustomed to
living an exciting life, and the qualities he saw in Thal were too
tempting. Good men with bright minds, daring hearts, and bounties
on their heads were precious.

“What say you to my offer?” Valentino
pressed.

“Going to war has little appeal,” Thal
said.

Valentino rolled his eyes. “Yes, I admit it’s
hard nasty work, but when we do things right it doesn’t take too
long and then we’re back enjoying the comforts the world has to
offer. We could do well together. I’m in need of good men. Rewards
will be handsome,” the Condottiere said.

Regis said, “Thal, don’t make a hasty
decision.”

“And you can stop acting like you have
anything to offer him,” Valentino said, wishing he had gotten Thal
alone first.

“I value his friendship,” Thal said.

“My apologies. I was cross and should not
have been,” Valentino said. “But you need new friends. I’m sure
even your old friends can see this. And by my honor, my friendship
is not lightly given.”

Thal believed the man was being honest, but
the prospect of serving him had no appeal. Even so the hard facts
of Thal’s reality pressed against his stubborn pride from all sides
like an iron maiden. Valentino was offering him protection and a
place in the world where merit could find reward.

Probing for a reaction, Thal said, “If I
refuse you, I suppose you’ll turn me in for the reward.” He
expected the straight question to reveal Valentino’s true
character.

“No, I will not,” he said, shaking his head.
“It would bring bad attention onto Lady Carmelita and I would not
do that.”

Judging the man to be sincere, Thal said,
“She’s important to you.”

“She’s important to many people,” Valentino
said cryptically. His brown eyes scanned the musicians, advertising
his unwillingness to give out more details with so large an
audience.

Aching with curiosity, Thal asked his friends
if they could give him some time alone with Valentino. Regis
frowned, but he supposed he knew enough dangerous secrets. Some of
the conversations he had overheard at Carmelita’s party had been
politically brash.

Once they were alone, Thal asked, “Who are
these associates Carmelita wanted me to meet?”

Valentino lifted his beer. “Her in-laws are
Protestant agitators. She’s involved with a group of nobles
plotting to drive out the Church,” he said and took a drink. He
wiped his mustache and shook his head at their folly. But it did
not matter. A lot of money was going to be on the table sooner or
later, and the highest bidder would have the best cause in
Valentino’s view.

“Why does she want me to meet them?” Thal
said.

“They’re building a network of men they can
rely on to take up arms. Carmelita puts a frivolous front on their
meetings. She’s just a merry widow throwing parties. It’s good
cover too. Protestants can be such a dour bunch, but she makes the
risk of excommunication and damnation look fun,” Valentino
joked.

“Is she in any immediate danger because of
this?” Thal said.

“Hard to say. Anything could happen. These
Protestant plotters mostly just talk, but one of these days they’ll
take action. But it’s a dangerous game they play. The Church is
sick of losing followers. The Emperor is firmly with the Church,
and the new archbishop heading here makes a statement to me that
Bohemia is a priority,” Valentino said.

“Then why do you support Carmelita?” Thal
wondered.

Valentino smiled. “She’s a pleasant client,
and her plotters have been financing things for me. I need to keep
all my connections. When this Protestant movement flares up in
Bohemia, and it will, it could take off. Then I’ll be in a good
position. Look at what’s happening in the German States. Who would
have ever thought a whole different church could rise so quickly?”
he said.

Thal had never really thought too much about
religious politics but he could easily guess what a dangerous game
Valentino was playing. “What if the Catholics prevail?” he
asked.

“Then I’m a good Catholic,” Valentino said
and took another drink.

“Is Carmelita this flexible?” Thal asked.

“Probably. She’s just involved because her
in-laws are Protestants. She’s keeping them happy so she can stay
in charge of her son and the fortune he inherited,” Valentino
explained.

Thal was bothered that he had not guessed at
the dicey motivations beneath Carmelita’s festive almost silly
exterior. Perhaps he could not read every person as well as he
thought.

“Patercek told me that he worried about his
sister’s politics. He wanted me to watch out for her,” Thal
divulged.

“And you can do that best by joining my
company,” Valentino said.

“I’m still thinking that through,” Thal
said.

“Don’t think too long. You don’t have any
other choice except to flee. I don’t say this to trap you. Think of
me as the helping hand that you need,” Valentino said.

Thal believed that Valentino meant him no
harm, except the possibility of getting blown to bloody chunks in a
battle. His desire to exploit his value was motivated by ambition
and not malice, but this did not really ease Thal’s distaste for
accepting a master.

He finished his beer. “I need to get some
rest before I guard the house tonight,” he said and slid out of the
bench.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Valentino said and
saluted him with his stein.

Pistol padded after Thal across the tavern
and they left. In the street a man was propped against a building
with a bloody rag to his head. A woman stood over him, still
yelling at him for his shortcomings. Thal looked away from the
pitiful scene that reminded him that there were more losers in the
world than winners. More every day.

Thal sat on a bench on the balcony of
Carmelita’s house. The moon hovered the city like a glowing ship
perilously close to a jagged coast. The city’s towers, roofs,
chimneys, and hard-edged jumbled chaos against the night sky were
in marked contrast to the countless times he had admired the moon
from the curvaceous serenity of the forest. Thal missed the forest,
but civilization enticed his appetites with a stimulating
cornucopia of food, music, tools, and complicated companions.

When he thought about his friends, he
acknowledged that his ability to protect them gave him purpose. But
could he honestly keep them from harm forever? As Bradcek had
threatened, Thal had been made a wanted man. He must be careful not
to get his friends condemned by their association with him.

Tonight another pressing problem demanded his
attention. The whole household of Lady Carmelita was likely in
danger because Rainer might track him to this place.

Thal sniffed the gentle breeze coming from
the east. It smelled of the river – fishy, muddy, and soured by the
city’s gutters. His thumb ran down the cool iron of the pistol
barrel in his lap. Thal wondered if he should put Rainer out of his
misery. Perhaps it was the proper mercy. That man was in the thrall
of Brother Vito, who was not a proper guide in Thal’s opinion.

I can’t just kill him, Thal decided. Rainer
was deeply troubled, perhaps irretrievably so, but Thal’s heart
insisted that he give the man a chance. He hoped to woo the
unfortunate man with friendship and save him from the unsavory
mastery of Vito.

Steps on the stairs interrupted his thinking.
A manly odor spiced with a musky touch of Carmelita’s perfume told
Thal that Valentino approached. The big man emerged onto the
moonlit balcony. He carried no lantern and was only a dark form
moving across the pale tiles of the patio.