Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (66 page)

Thal explained why he had acted as he did,
and Mileko went back to staring at the fire.

“Did my father speak to you of my mother?”
Thal asked.

Mileko shook his head. He took some bread out
of his bag and shared it with Thal, who set aside a piece for
Altea.

“We’ll have to hide deeper in the woods until
Altea can travel,” Thal decided. “Do you think you can go into the
city and get more supplies before we move?”

“I suspect helping you is going to be hard
work,” Mileko quipped.

“And could you take a message to my friends?”
Thal added. He needed to extend an apology to his friends and tell
them he was all right.

“Who are your friends?” Mileko asked.

Thal explained about the musicians and where
they were staying with Lady Carmelita. He also told him about
Valentino who deserved a parting word as well.

“Ah, the Condottiere,” Mileko said smilingly.
“He meant to put a sword through me.”

“You saw him?”

“I almost found you at his house but you had
slipped away ahead of me. You are a hard man to catch,” Mileko said
and realized that he would still be trying to achieve his mission
if the tortured woman had not made Thal stop.

“What did he tell you?” Thal demanded.

“Don’t think ill of your friend. He won’t
recollect what he said to me,” Mileko said and let that revelation
sink in with Thal, so that the werewolf would know that he was in
the company of an extraordinary man.

Mileko continued, “I’ll go forth and make
sure those hunting parties don’t find your trail.”

“How will you do that?” Thal wondered.

Mileko stood up and tossed his bag over his
shoulder. “I have my ways,” he said. “Tomorrow I’ll venture into
the city and get supplies and deliver your messages.”

“Thank you,” Thal said.

“You’re welcome. I was worried that you would
not want to go to your father,” Mileko said.

In that event Thal suspected that Mileko
might have had some type of coercion to fall back upon. Sarputeen
had sent a powerful man to fetch him.

“I want to see my father. I hadn’t known if
he was alive. He must be very old,” Thal said.

“He must be,” Mileko murmured.

A ray of the setting sun came through the
foliage and hit Mileko’s face. Thal noted the crow’s feet at the
man’s eyes. He was older than his smooth and pale face seemed at
first glance. Thal watched him lead his horse to the stream to
drink before riding away.

Sarputeen, Thal thought and dwelled on his
disjointed memories of his father. Part of him was happy to learn
that his father was alive and had sent aid at his most dire time.
But Thal knew to be wary. His father commanded the forces that had
shaped him.

He took the crust of bread to Altea and woke
her so she would eat again. Then he settled in next to her. He
stroked her hair and kissed her neck.

The dusk faintly revealed her sorrowful face.
“I can never go home,” she said.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said.

“It is. I brought all of this on you. I’m so
sorry. My desire for you made me seduce you. I should not have been
so weak,” he said and felt worse than ever.

She silenced his miserable confession with a
kiss. Even in her battered state, the connection soothed her flesh.
The defiant flush of pleasure gave her hope that she would recover
and that a new life awaited her. A life with Thal.

“I wanted you. I always wanted you from the
first moment,” she said. “Now I know you love me. You came for me.
You saved me. When they tormented me they said you wouldn’t come…”
Tears clogged her speech and Thal kissed her forehead, trying to
comfort her.

“Only death would have kept me away,” he said
passionately. Amid his guilt he found relief in the fact that he
had saved her.

“Martin was going to rape me. He was working
up to it. I didn’t know what to do,” Altea said. Despite her
humiliation she wanted Thal to know that her life had been
disintegrating anyway.

Fury tore at Thal’s heart. The grisly end he
had visited upon her stepfather now seemed inadequate.

“I killed him,” he said.

Her mixed emotions denied her enjoyment of
the vengeance. She pitied her brothers but when Martin had let them
take her away to her doom he had stripped her of humanity. Her
nothingness to him and to everyone else had cast her spirit into a
desert to wither to dust.

“I confessed to the witchcraft. They wrote it
down,” she said.

“It does not matter,” he said.

Knowing that he was trying to offer comfort,
she did not argue but her ingrained faith remained ashamed. Her
Church had no sanctuary or blessing for her anymore. And her lack
of any skills in witchcraft only made it worse. Condemnation
without the power was her lot.

Thal started kissing her again. He could not
stop himself. The robust living smell of the woodland and the
rising moon eased his aching heart and let him express his
love.

Altea relaxed and let his restrained passion
distract her from the pain. She longed to know more of what they
could do together, but her injuries demanded that their touches
remain tentative. The tickling prickle of his facial hair against
her chin and the light explorations of his tongue renewed her
spirit. Her world was shattered but she could imagine the joys that
life with Thal would bring.

After she fell asleep, Thal sat up and spread
his fur over her. The moonlight made him itch with the need to
transform but it was best that his fur keep her warm through the
night.

He even hoped that the enchanted fur would
lend some of its power to her flesh and speed her healing. He
wondered what would happen if he spoke the spell with the fur on
her instead of himself, but he dared not experiment. He might
corrupt her flesh somehow or make her a raving beast worse than
Rainer.

Reflecting upon his disastrous encounters
with the other werewolf, he regretted that he had not been more
forceful with Rainer. Perhaps if he had commanded him more
precisely then he would have obeyed and be alive. Thal still
believed that he could have helped the monk make peace with his
condition.

And that condition was likely something Thal
could inflict upon others. He expected that his father would be
able to tell him more about his powers.

Anticipation to meet with Sarputeen burned
inside him, but all of that must wait until Altea was able to
travel.

Gently he ran a hand across the fur over the
curve of her hip. His carnal curiosity smoldered with impatience.
No matter how much his conscience lashed him for the wrongs he had
done to her, his lust could not be shamed. When the time came for
them to join in love, he would act with joy.

Valentino lounged in Carmelita’s bed. She had
a very nice bed. If most people knew how comfortable her bed was,
he imagined they would kill her in fits of jealousy. He was content
to share it.

Rolling over he snuggled his face against the
smooth cotton pillow case. His short beard scratched upon the
fabric. He was due for a trim. Carmelita had left the drapes drawn
so he could sleep in. He was surprised she had arisen so early.
They had had much to talk about last night and not to talk about
too.

Valentino savored his lethargy. This luxury
would give him the strength to battle through his next
campaign.

Eventually he heard the light clatter of a
serving tray being delivered to Carmelita’s sitting room, and the
promise of breakfast cleared away his sleepiness. Donning his silk
robe, he joined her.

“Good morning,” she greeted while the servant
put fruit pastries still warm from the oven onto plates.

He stepped over his boots in front of her
bedchamber doors. His clothes were haphazardly tossed over a
chair.

She leaned out for a kiss and he obliged her
while sliding into his chair.

“Oh you’re rough,” she complained of his
beard.

“You love it,” he teased.

Carmelita rolled her eyes. They ate in
silence until finally she said, “Do you think we shall hear from
Thal today?”

“I’m sure we shall hear of his exploits,”
Valentino said.

“What an extraordinary creature,” she
commented. The sight of him as a werewolf would amaze her until the
grave. She felt privileged by the trust that Thal had shown her
when he revealed himself. She wished she could have known him
better. She anticipated telling Augustus about it when next they
saw each other. She did not dare put the encounter into a
letter.

“It’s such a pity what happened to my
musicians. Thank you for saving them,” she said.

Valentino wiped his mouth on a napkin and
started picking his teeth with the point of a knife. “You’ll have
to send them away,” he decided.

“No. I love their music. They’re special,”
she protested.

“My love, I say this for your safety. If one
man knew they were friends of Thal, then others will know too. I
can’t risk your association with him becoming an issue. You have
other schemes to protect,” he explained.

Although she pouted, she accepted his
assessment and appreciated his attention to her security. “Where
shall they go?” she said.

Valentino shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.
Musicians are accustomed to living in the street,” he said.

The steward rushed in without knocking. He
looked confused.

Carmelita popped to her feet. “You are not to
barge in on me!” she scolded.

“Sorry, my Lady, but a man is here to see
you,” he said.

“What man?”

“A magician I believe,” the steward
whispered.

“I’m not meeting with any magician. Send him
away!” she declared.

“But he’s in the house, my Lady.”

“In the house!” Carmelita cried.

“Why did you let a strange man in the house?”
Valentino demanded.

The steward flapped his mouth but was stymied
as to how to answer.

“Because he’s forgotten how to do his duty.
Now get the beggar out of here,” Carmelita said.

“I’ll do it,” Valentino said, becoming
concerned. He pulled on his boots over bare feet and grabbed his
sword. On his way down the stairs and across the house, he noticed
that the other servants had vanished. He found nobody in the foyer.
The front door was open. He looked outside and saw a black horse
browsing on Carmelita’s flowers.

“Good morning.”

Valentino whirled. A hooded man in a black
cape sauntered out from the ball room.

“You!” Valentino cried, certain that he
recognized the rogue but he did not know how.

The man put back his hood and slid a stray
strand of black hair out of his face. “You must have a strong mind
to recognize me, Condottiere,” he commented.

Valentino raised his sword. “Get thee back
into the street right now,” he ordered.

“You and your fine Italian rapier,” Mileko
said as if it were cute.

Menacing anger overtook Valentino who
advanced on Mileko clearly intending to skewer him and drag him out
by the neck.

“Thal Lesky sent me,” Mileko said.

Valentino halted but refused to acknowledge
the name.

“I assure you I am not in league with those
who mean to bring him to justice for his numerous crimes. Nor do I
mean any harm to those Thal calls friends. I am Mileko, an agent of
his father. Thal will be leaving Prague with me, but he asked that
I visit this home and deliver a message to the musicians. Thal
thought of you as well, Condottiere. Your presence here is
convenient for me.”

“Where have I seen you before?” Valentino
asked suspiciously.

“We spoke briefly the night before last,”
Mileko said.

Valentino nodded. He did remember now. “You
made me think I was crazy,” he said.

Mileko dipped his head as if receiving a
compliment. “Please, I would prefer to complete this business
quickly,” he said.

Valentino yanked shut the front door. “Let me
get dressed and we’ll go talk to the musicians,” he said.

Back in Carmelita’s chambers, he quickly
explained the new development while getting his clothes.

“I must see him,” she said.

“No! Stay away from him. He is a magician,
but much more than any street trickster. Be wary I say,” Valentino
said.

She did not enjoy being told no and resolved
to sneak after Valentino.

He knew she was following him and waved her
back just before he reached Mileko. She scooted around a corner and
peeked as Valentino led the man toward the servants’ wing.

The battered musicians had improved. Regis
was quietly plucking his harp and scribbling the lines of a new
song when Valentino came in with the darkly clad man.

Raphael and Carlo joined them and they
listened to Mileko tell of Thal and Altea.

“Oh that poor woman,” Regis said.

“How many people did Thal kill?” Raphael
wondered.

“I did not count the bodies,” Mileko said.
“That matters not. I’m here to convey Thal’s deepest apologies for
your misfortune. He wishes you well.”

Carlo moaned at the loss. Regis and Raphael
were staggered by the news.

Valentino cleared his throat. This seemed a
good moment to tell them his bad news. “Gentlemen for the sake of
your hostess I suggest you pack up and go,” he said.

Outrage was their natural reaction but each
man realized his notorious reputation threatened Carmelita. Proof
that she had harbored the werewolf Thal needed to be lacking,
despite all gossip.

The three companions groaned at the prospect
of immediate homelessness.

“Where can we go?” Raphael said.

“We could be killed if we go out there,”
Carlo added, and his cut lips made the point well.

Raphael groaned and said, “Oh how can Thal
leave us like this?”