Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (51 page)

The tread of his boots and the pad of his
dog’s feet faded into the darkness. The blackness of the city
pressed down on Altea savagely. In Thal’s company the world had
been a place of adventure with him as its master, but his abrupt
departure stripped her of safety. The wild realm of late night city
streets exposed her naked inexperience. She tried to squelch her
anger over his abandonment. He had to have a reason. Their brief
conversations tonight had only begun to fulfill her need to know
his mysteries.

Looking back, she heard footsteps and grasped
that Thal was trying to lead the danger away. Groping in the dark,
she hastened down the alley. The sanctuary of her home offered only
meager relief. A new terror invisible to the outer world stalked
her here. Quietly she made it to her room and slipped out of her
gown.

With her night clothes on, she knelt beside
her bed. The dawn was coming but after such a wild night, she had
prayers to speak.

Crossing herself as she had been taught, she
whispered, “Dear God, please banish Martin’s impure advances. I’ve
done nothing to deserve this. I swear. Please help me keep him
away. Amen.”

Tenzo discouraged a beggar with a stern look.
The long haired sellsword would have denied the panhandler alms on
principle, and the fact that he did not have a single coin worsened
his miniscule sense of charity. But at least Tenzo felt optimistic
that he was on the verge of getting his back pay from the stingy
Jesuit.

After prowling the Little Quarter nightly for
a fortnight, he had finally spotted the elusive Thal last night.
The figure with a fast gait and a thick cloak had slipped onto the
bridge, and he had followed him.

Once in Old Town, Tenzo had lost track of him
until the gun shot had renewed his chase. When he had overheard
voices near the river and one had been female, Tenzo quickly put
together why Thal had suddenly taken to shooting people in the
street. The thief had threatened whatever woman he was with.

Suspecting that the woman must be in Old Town
somewhere, Tenzo had resumed his hunt today in Knights of the Cross
square. He figured Thal would pass through the square if he came
into Old Town again.

While prowling around the busy market, Tenzo
became thirsty as the hot day wore on. Napping at the Clementinum
until someone came across with some food and drink was becoming
much more desirable, but then he saw him. Tenzo had almost missed
him because of his slipping concentration. Thal was already halfway
across the square. An effortless airiness buoyed his steps as if he
did not walk as hard upon the ground as others. A sign of his
sinful magic Tenzo assumed.

Controlling his excitement, he drifted toward
Thal.

Thal turned down a row of market stalls.
Tenzo hurried into the next row. Thal moved with a false
casualness. His roving eyes were looking for someone. Tenzo hid his
lurking presence in a small crowd gathered to watch a ridiculous
puppet show.

As the puppeteers screeched dramatically
about corrupt judges and gallant folk heroes, Tenzo glanced toward
Thal. The wily criminal would have likely noticed the surveillance
on another day, but his dreamy smile advertised the depth of his
distraction.

When the sellsword spotted the young woman,
he was duly impressed. The Devil himself could not have seduced a
maid more fine. She deserved to be a princess of Bohemia with her
straight body and perky bosom. Her fair face and golden braids
reflected the hot sun as divinely as a meadow in full bloom.

Tenzo smirked as he observed the happy couple
try to act like they did not know each other. They looked over
wares at the same stall and feigned innocent conversation, but
Tenzo noticed how they stood too close. Long ago during his brief
youth Tenzo had once played such flirty games with girls in the
market. He was past such silliness now. A harlot was much more
efficient and required little talking.

The happy couple continued their ruse of
shopping. Tenzo carefully pursued. He had no delusions about a busy
public place keeping Thal from acting viciously.

Snuffling between shoppers’ feet, a little
brown and white dog investigated rotted fruit and the pee puddles
of other dogs. Tenzo ducked into a fruit stand. The werewolf’s dog
must not get a whiff of him. The vendor soon became irritated with
his loitering. Judging that the dog had moved on, he edged back
into the open and spotted Thal and the woman within the crowd.
Their hands were touching. The furtive contact made Tenzo ache as
he imagined their lust, but knowing that he had discovered a
weakness in this monster excited him more.

Keeping his distance, he watched them
continue to sneak little touches. Sometimes they appeared to
exchange sweet words but other times they looked sad. Tenzo
supposed they were having trouble arranging their next tryst.

The little rendezvous ended when a servant
woman intercepted the young woman. Thal drifted into the crowd
after exchanging a frustrated look with the woman he was wooing.
With less spring in his step, he left the square by a different
street than the woman. Tenzo followed the woman. Her location was
crucial.

As he trailed the woman he recognized the
street. He had been on Karlova before when he had helped Brother
Miguel stir up some mobs.

When the woman went up the steps of
Magistrate Fridrich’s house, Tenzo gaped with surprise. A man
behind him muttered irritably because he had to go around the
motionless sellsword. Finally accepting what he had seen, Tenzo
rushed to the Clementinum.

Vito was meeting with Miguel. He had obtained
a new desk and the two men were pouring over lists of names while
Miguel made notes.

“Not now,” Vito said, not looking up when
Tenzo knocked.

Tenzo presumed to open the door. Vito greeted
the intrusion with an acidic gaze.

“I saw Thal,” Tenzo said, and Vito’s hot
words died on the vine of his temper.

Miguel jerked with surprise and knocked over
an ink bottle. He cussed before he caught his wicked tongue and
righted the bottle. A couple lucky names were covered by a black
puddle.

Vito met the sellsword at the door. “Are you
sure?” he hissed.

“I am,” Tenzo said.

Vito ushered him inside and yanked the
sticking door shut.

“Where?” he demanded.

Tenzo rested a thick hand on his sword. His
belly growled a little beneath his chainmaille shirt.

“Me and my men need some pay, Brother Vito,”
he said.

“This is no time to quibble. That Devil spawn
stalks the streets and all you think of is coin for gambling and
whoring,” Vito said.

“The preaching and praying of your lot has
not accomplished much. If you want to hear what I know, and I
promise by God you’ll like it, then settle up accounts or me and my
fellows are done with you,” Tenzo said. He spun out the door. “I’ll
be in the dining hall,” he said.

Planning some eloquent threats, Vito meant to
stalk after his rebellious sellsword, but Miguel restrained him.
The touch shocked Vito, and Miguel quickly removed his hand.

“Just pay them,” he advised. “Our rewards are
in Heaven but his are on Earth. There’s no changing that.”

Vito gritted his teeth, still resisting.

Miguel added, “We just got our funding from
the Abbott.”

“But if I give into this bullying I’ll never
have the control of him I need,” Vito confided.

“His pay is what controls him,” Miguel said
and his friendly face urged practicality.

The outer door banged as the surly sellsword
departed.

“We’re not the only ones who can benefit from
this knowledge of Thal,” Miguel said.

“All right,” Vito relented. “You go get
him.”

Miguel hustled after Tenzo and turned him
around with placating words. Back in the office, Vito was writing a
note to the Clementinum’s treasurer specifying the amount of pay to
be given to his hired men.

Tenzo stood over his desk impatiently. Vito
signed, blew on the wet ink, and handed the slip over. The
sellsword looked it over, but Vito knew he could not read it.

“Take that to the treasurer and you’ll be
paid,” Vito said. “Now where is Thal?”

Tenzo tucked the precious note into his purse
and took the chair Miguel had been using. He relaxed back, savoring
his victory.

“He hides in the Little Quarter. Finding
people who say they’ve seen him isn’t hard, but no one seems to
know where he stays. Almost makes me think everyone’s hiding him,”
he said.

“I’m waiting to hear something useful,” Vito
prompted.

Amused with the irritation he caused his
grouchy master, Tenzo explained, “But he visits Old Town because
there’s a woman he desires here. This I have seen myself. They were
just wooing in the Knights of the Cross market.”

Vito leaned over his desk and steepled his
fingers in front of his mouth. He was very interested.

Tenzo continued, “I followed this fair maid
to her home. She lives in the Magistrate’s house.”

The news fell with a thud upon Vito’s ears.
Finally collecting himself, he said, “A servant of the
Magistrate?”

Tenzo shook his head. “No, she was no
servant. Must be his daughter although she’s prettier than could
spring from his loins.” He chuckled.

“And you saw her with Thal?” Vito
pressed.

“Holding hands,” Tenzo revealed.

“You would swear to this?” Vito said.

Tenzo nodded. He would swear to most anything
if paid, but since it was true he had no hesitation.

“Do not tell anyone else,” Vito instructed
and waved the man out.

Tenzo left and anticipated a bountiful
evening celebrating with his fellows.

The two Jesuits shared a contemplative
silence until Miguel finally said, “What’s the Magistrate hiding
from us?”

Vito tapped his fingers on his desk. During
his encounters with Magistrate Fridrich he had not sensed that the
man was protecting the werewolf.

“I suspect the proper question is what is
this daughter hiding from the Magistrate?” Vito said. “The crafty
wench is stealing moments with her lover in the market. That means
Thal is hardly a legitimate suitor.”

Vito’s dark eyes glittered as he plotted new
plots around the fresh information. The Magistrate was about to
become his servant or be replaced.

After shuffling through the papers he found
the first page of the list. “Find out at once the name of this slut
and make her our top priority. I think we’ve found our bait for
Thal.”

“There he goes,” Thal commented to his dog.
Pistol growled.

Constable Bekcek was leaving the jail for the
evening. Thal had loitered in Old Town Square through the late
afternoon, anticipating the emergence of the Constable. The man
swaggered down the street toward the square.

Thal shifted his hat low and ducked alongside
a moving horse cart. The driver had to rein in the suddenly
skittish horse. Bekcek went by, unaware of the sharp eyes watching
him.

Thal trailed the Constable toward his
preferred beer garden. He had observed him go to this place almost
every evening.

Although Thal was the most wanted man in
Prague, he was amused that no one ever seemed to notice him, or at
least report his presence. Ironically the influx of armed men
seeking work on the werewolf hunting patrols made Thal even less
conspicuous.

The noise of the city dropped from his
hearing. He focused on his prey with a vengeful hunger. He had
killed for food and self defense, but the time to murder had come.
A wise man Regis was to counsel against vengeance. Truly the
bloodlust building inside Thal was unwholesome, but he would not
shirk the rotten duty. The scent of Bekcek was taunting him. He
remembered its trace upon the trail of his mother’s flight. What
horrors had that man inflicted on her? Thal was glad that he would
never learn the details for they would surely be unbearable to
know. The justice he was about to deliver would be far less
vicious.

Bekcek entered the beer garden. The doors
were wide open because of the fair season and the songs pouring out
were happy and simple. Thal imagined the man’s colleagues greeting
him. Perhaps someone even owed him a beer and Bekcek was about to
collect it.

Thal leaned against a building across the
street. He wanted to give the Constable some time to settle in and
relax.

The sun dropped lower. The streets fell into
shadow but golden sunshine still spilled across the rooftops. The
occasional person walking by glanced at Thal questioningly, but his
unfocused gaze saw them not. He was remembering his mother.
Examples of her kindness and love were numerous. He still had no
recollection of why she had left his father, and his inability to
ask her added to his pain.

“Gretchen,” he whispered, saying her name to
honor her. His heart beat harder as if her spirit gave him extra
strength. He felt the magic that bound them urging him to action.
Sweat ran down his back. His hands shook until he willfully
steadied them.

“Wait here,” he said to Pistol. The liquid
eyes of the dog watched his master cross the street.

He entered the beer garden. People packed
benches around tables. The hall was hot and the air tasted of
sweat. Men sang their songs and drank their favorite brews. Women
with thick arms and flushed cheeks toted steins as frenetically as
squirrels collected nuts.

Thal scanned the crowd. Bekcek’s black cloak
was hung on a peg near his table. He was drinking and flapping his
jaws about how crucial he was to the running of Prague.

Thal lifted his hat and ran his fingers
through his hair and then settled his hat back into place. He
smoothed a hand over his freshly trimmed goatee. Carlo had helped
him with it that morning. Thal had wanted to look good for his
meeting with Altea.