Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (46 page)

“I’ll not risk your lives,” Thal said.

Raphael started to argue again, but Thal cut
him off. “Think on what I have said.” He went out the door and left
them.

Emotions roiled in Thal. Against his better
judgment he had returned to his friends for the sake of seeing
them. He hoped that his blunt talk had impressed upon them that
their relationship could not be long term. Forsaking the company of
their good hearts would be the least of the difficulties.

Valentino was waiting outside on his horse.
The bay’s reddish coat gleamed in the sunshine. Its dark eyes
widened at Thal and it sidestepped away.

“Follow me,” Valentino said and his horse
sprang forward.

Thal trailed him through the streets. The
Condottiere made an imposing figure towering over pedestrians. Thal
envied his stature and wondered if he could ever get a horse to
carry him.

The high ground of Prague Castle loomed
closer as Valentino led him across the Little Quarter. The many
storehouses, shops, and homes of those in service to the crown
crowded the streets. Men in fine clothes with flocks of servants
went in and out of places. Wagons filled with supplies rumbled back
and forth.

Just before reaching the main road up to the
castle, Valentino turned down a side road. It twisted along an
uneven ridge, passing several old buildings. One was leaning and
another was tumbled down. Men with an ox cart were salvaging bricks
and stones from the ruin.

Beyond a copse of pines, lines of smoke rose,
and Thal heard the clang of a smithy. After they passed the trees,
a walled compound tucked against the base of the castle hill
confronted them. Valentino hailed a man on the wall who let him
in.

A fume belched out the gate from a burn pile
where charcoal was being made. Valentino tied his horse to a pole
and waited for Thal to catch up. Thal wrinkled his nose at the
acrid stink of wood smoke and hot metal.

Valentino led him past several open air
workshops. Metal was being heated and banged and twisted and molded
into all sorts of tools.

When they reached the shop farthest in the
back, Valentino hollered, “Otram! Otram, where are you? Come out
here you crooked son of a bitch.”

“Who dares call me crooked?” a man responded.
He clambered down a ladder from a loft and advanced on Valentino.
He had wavy blonde hair and a leather apron crisscrossed with
scorch marks. They shook hands and exchanged a few friendly
insults.

Finally Otram looked over at Thal. “Who’s
with you?”

“This is Thom Nova, a new commander who needs
some outfitting,” Valentino said, retrieving one of the plainest
names from his memory.

“Another Thom?” Otram mumbled, amused.

Thal restrained himself from protesting his
new name. He supposed Valentino was being prudent.

“Where are you from Thom?” Otram
inquired.

“Prague.”

“I’ve never seen you,” Otram said. He scanned
Thal’s weapons and figured that he was the sort of man who should
have crossed his path before. He also had the look of someone not
easily forgotten.

“I’ve been gone a long time,” Thal
explained.

“You don’t look like you’ve been anywhere a
long time, lad,” Otram said.

“I’ve been in Austria,” Thal said.

Valentino added, “Thom’s been working as a
bodyguard, but he’s ready to sign on with me and make a fortune
when things get hot around here.”

Otram wiped his nose with his hand and kept
studying Thal. “This one has some potential,” he muttered. “What
are you after?”

“Another pistol,” Thal said.

“Can’t make those fast enough. The Emperor
must sleep on a big pile of them by now,” Otram said.

“He better,” Valentino said and Otram
laughed.

“Back this way, gentlemen,” he said and led
them through the shop.

Men were sitting at a long table working on
various gun parts. One was filing the grooves of a wheel lock and
checking the precision of the fit after each adjustment. Another
man was attaching a metal barrel to a stock. Thal looked over the
process with interest as he walked by.

Otram took them into an enclosed yard. A
brick retaining wall against the hill was riddled with holes. Otram
yelled for a servant to bring the pistols and traded gossip with
Valentino while waiting.

“I heard that werewolf was in the Little
Quarter,” Otram said.

Valentino nodded. “I even tried hunting it
myself. Stupid of me. It was too fast,” he said.

“Half the kingdom might be hunting it after
today. Council in Old Town just put up a bounty for it,” Otram
said.

“Really?” Valentino said.

“I just heard it this morning,” Otram said.
“The handbill even had the name for the beast, but bless my soul I
can’t remember it.”

“You’re getting old,” Valentino said.

Otram coughed and spat. “You’re not far
behind me, Condottiere,” he warned.

“I’m in my prime!” Valentino protested and
smacked his armored chest.

Otram chuckled. Before he could trade more
barbs with Valentino his servant arrived with a heavy wooden case.
He opened it and unwrapped cloth from three pistols. He had a
powder horn and started loading them.

“I only got these three,” Otram said.

“They look well made,” Valentino said. His
dark eyes sparkled with appreciation.

“We’re getting better at it all the time,”
Otram said proudly. He lifted one out and offered it to Thal. “Have
you ever seen work so fine?” he asked.

“Yes I have. On a musket from Nuremberg,”
Thal said.

The comment disgruntled the gunsmith. As he
handed a weapon to Thal, he said, “This isn’t going to be some kind
of credit arrangement.” His emphasis on the word credit advertised
his scorn for the concept.

“I understand,” Thal said.

“You can fire each one once and then make
your choice,” Otram instructed.

Thal spent time looking over all three
pistols and considered how they felt in his hand. The weight of
each pistol against his palm excited him. Each pistol possessed an
aura of sinister patience.

“Get him some targets,” Otram said. The
servant fetched sticks of charcoal and started drawing the outlines
of life-sized men on the perforated wall. He drew three and then
went back and started adding hair and faces and clothing. After
waiting a while, Thal shifted with impatience.

Otram shrugged. “The fellow should’ve been
apprenticed to an artist instead of me. I have to show him a little
indulgence,” he said.

The servant’s careful sketching brought forth
three expressions of surprise, fear, and laughter on the figures.
The life-like faces were a little distracting.

“Aim for the chest,” Valentino advised.

“Wouldn’t the head make for a more certain
kill?” Thal said while lifting his first pistol.

“You’ll have a better chance of hitting the
body,” Valentino said.

Thal took aim at the first figure on the
left. He liked the pistol already. It had armed easily and the
trigger offered just the right amount of resistance. He did not
flinch when he fired. A chunk of mortar exploded off the chest of
the target.

Otram smiled.

“Nice hit,” Valentino commented.

Thal tested the other two pistols. He hit the
other figures in the chest and the head.

“These all perform well,” he remarked while
looking over his options.

He finally selected the first one he had
shot. Its oiled metal and gleaming wood were beautiful.

“Forty thalers,” Otram stated without
preamble.

“Thirty five,” Thal offered because that was
the extent of his personal wealth.

Otram folded his arms. “There’s no
bargaining,” he said.

“Then you should offer credit,” Thal
argued.

Otram grinned. “This one is full of pepper,”
he commented to Valentino.

“You’ve no idea,” Valentino agreed.

Thal wiped the little powder stain from the
top of the pistol. The longer he held it the more he wanted it.

“Valentino, I must ask a loan of you,” he
said.

Otram was a little surprised that Thal was
addressing the Condottiere by first name.

Valentino was more surprised by the request
for a loan. Apparently Thal had decided to start a working
relationship.

“You already owe me,” he said.

Thal smiled. “Worry not about money. I know
where you can easily make twenty florins,” he joked.

“You’d do best not to tempt me,” Valentino
said.

“You’re not tempted,” Thal said.

Valentino meant to argue if only to soften
Thal’s sudden cockiness, but he realized he was not tempted. He
remembered the touch of the werewolf and its hot breath passing by
huge teeth. The intense experience had held him in awe, and the
feeling was not diminished. Valentino had no wish to reduce Thal’s
majesty with imprisonment and execution. Such torments would be a
tragic waste.

Reaching for his purse, the Condottiere
grumbled that he expected Thal to pay his debts.

The two men pooled their coins. Otram
received the funds happily.

“Best wishes on your adventures, gentlemen.
I’m sure my pistol will keep you safe,” Otram said.

“And others not so much,” Valentino
quipped.

“Not so much,” Otram agreed, laughing. He
showed them out of his shop and waved.

Thal kept a hand on his new pistol, enamored
with the extra killing power.

“You’re getting to be an expensive friend,”
Valentino said.

“I’ll take care of the debt soon,” Thal
said.

“Money does not have to be our currency,”
Valentino said.

Thal slowed before they reached Valentino’s
horse near the main gate. “I don’t want to be in your wars,” he
said.

“Perhaps one such as you would not be best
for a regular command, but I have been thinking.” Valentino glanced
around to make sure no one was close. He deemed the grinding and
banging in the workshops sufficient to cover their conversation and
continued, “The Protestant revolution will have more to it than
basic battles of soldiers. The politics are complicated. Being able
to intimidate influential figures will be necessary. With your
power you could cause much terror with little effort. You could do
special favors for me in this way.”

What Valentino had just said suddenly
explained Rainer’s killing spree. In a flash of insight Thal
guessed that Vito had used Rainer to cause an uproar so he could
exploit the public fear somehow. Maybe Vito wanted to catch him and
enslave him to political purposes, much as Valentino did, except
Thal liked Valentino better.

“I don’t want to be embroiled in your plots,”
Thal said.

“And what plots are so important to you?”
Valentino demanded.

“My plots are my own,” Thal said darkly.

“You are an enemy of the Jesuits?” Valentino
said.

Thal shrugged. “Not for my part. One of them
tried to recruit me. Now I’ve been warned that he’s trying to trap
me,” he said.

“The Jesuits could use some intimidating. It
seems our plots could cooperate,” Valentino suggested
hopefully.

“Perhaps,” Thal said.

Valentino looked around again. “Let us move
on. I’ll accompany you to your meeting with Carmelita,” he
said.

“You don’t want me alone with her,” Thal
surmised.

Valentino’s jealousy was complicated by his
new knowledge of Thal’s bestial power. “Would you let your lover
meet alone with a werewolf?” he said.

“Perhaps not,” Thal granted, a little
sadly.

Upon returning to Lady Carmelita’s house they
had to wait in her solar while she finished her afternoon nap. When
she finally arrived in a fresh dress for the evening, she scolded
Thal for being too early.

“Better than late,” he said.

“I suppose you’re a man who must be indulged
more than others,” she conceded and settled onto a chair.

“He does have a way of making others
indulgent with him,” Valentino said, feeling the loss of weight in
his purse.

Thal waited for Carmelita to speak. She
regarded him thoughtfully. His unique eyes could no longer be
dismissed as a trick of birth. Some sorcery had altered them.

“I’ve been told something very extraordinary
about you,” she said.

“People like talking about me,” Thal said
with playful disinterest.

“Can you show me?” Carmelita said.

The request surprised him.

Valentino balked. “My Lady, you cannot
imagine how it will effect you. The world will cease to be the
same. Don’t be so hasty,” he said.

“I want to see,” she insisted.

Thal glanced around the room. “We should move
the furniture,” he said.

Carmelita gasped. She had expected him to
protest. His quiet acceptance of her request frightened her with
oncoming reality.

He tossed aside his cloak and revealed the
beautiful wolf fur. He spread it on the table next to Carmelita and
closed the drapes.

Valentino jumped up and locked the door and
pushed back the chairs and embroidery frame. Carmelita ran her hand
over the fur. Despite the empty eye slits and dried nose, she
almost expected it to breathe.

Thal flipped over the fur so she could see
the blood writing. Valentino leaned over it as well. A thin band of
sunlight from a gap in the drapes fell across the skin, making the
strange characters glisten as if wet and fresh again.

“I’m trusting you with my secret,” he
said.

Carmelita gaped as Thal walked to the clear
area and started taking off his clothes. Valentino took her hand
and stood close. The scratches and bruises on Thal’s body were
revealed when he disrobed. Carmelita leaned back when he approached
the table. He had no concern for modesty and his physique filled
her eyes with a perfection worthy of Italian sculptors. He grabbed
his fur, took a few steps back, and held it around his hips.