Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (40 page)

Thal got a haircut first. As the man’s
fingers moved through his hair and the scissors snipped, he said,
“What interesting hair you have. Each strand has more than one
color. What stars were you born under?”

“I could not say,” Thal said.

“Does your hair take after your father or
mother?” the barber asked. He marveled at a lock of hair before
tossing it into the pile of the floor.

Because Thal could only remember his father
with a shaven head it made him wonder what his father’s hair was
actually like. “I take after my father,” he said for the sake of
answering.

After all four men were finished, Thal paid
the barber. Pistol hopped up when the men came out. The dog stuck
close to his master’s heels in the busy traffic.

After asking several people, Thal located the
Magic Flag. They went in and drank some beer. Thal learned that the
joint of beef would not be ready for hours. The half raw hulk of
meat just beginning to heat over the massive fire provoked his
appetite. He knocked back his hunger with another beer. Planning to
return for dinner, the men left after Regis cajoled Thal into
taking them to Old Town.

The mood across the river was more agitated
than the Little Quarter. Groups of armed men, some with the royal
livery, were on display in the square. One ragged man standing on a
barrel was raving about the doom the Jews were bringing on the
city. A small crowd was yelling in agreement until someone,
presumably the owner of the contents of the barrel, knocked him
down. He whacked the wretch with a stick and told him to be
off.

“Charms to ward back the werewolf! Get your
werewolf charms!” a man barked.

He began foisting a fistful of amulets into
Raphael’s face. Blunt pebbles and wooden beads strung on leather
cords dangled from the man’s arms and around his neck. They looked
about as magical as horse apples.

“No, no, I don’t want one,” Raphael said and
tried to push him away.

“Everybody in Old Town is buying one. Two for
price of one because I care so much for my fellow man,” the hustler
insisted.

“Get away!” Raphael declared, reverting to
his native language.

“You need it to keep back the werewolf,” the
man argued.

Thal stepped in. With a firm hand he backed
the man away from Raphael. “He said he does not want one,” he
said.

Unrelenting as a nasty rash, the man said,
“Oh, fine Sir, your gun can’t save you. These are the finest
werewolf banes crafted by the great magician Theodorni. It’s your
only protection!”

“I’m sure your magician is a drunk and a
fraud,” Thal said. He seized one of the dangling charms. Its amulet
was merely a glob of half dried clay. He ground it to dust in his
hand.

“I assure you these do not keep back
werewolves,” he said and let his predatory spirit flash. The man
quailed back, but even cowering, he squeaked, “You’ll have to pay
for that.”

Thal spun him around and pushed him away.

“Thank you,” Raphael said, dusting off his
sleeves. “Those saddest magic charms ever I see.” Everyone laughed,
even Thal who had appreciated the silly diversion.

They moved into the market stalls. Carlo and
Raphael lagged behind browsing items and chatting with vendors.
Regis wandered ahead, more interested in people watching. He
finally stopped at a juggler. Thal trailed behind him but still
kept an eye on Carlo and Raphael farther back.

Regis tossed a copper into the juggler’s cup
and turned to Thal. “Show me where this girl lives,” he said.

“I don’t know that there’s much point
standing outside her house,” Thal said.

Regis could tell that inexperience was
frustrating his friend.

“You have to let her see you. If she likes
you she’ll come out,” Regis said.

Thal pointed to Karlova Street. “She lives
down there,” he said.

“Nice houses,” Regis said, beginning to
understand Thal’s difficulty. He was not trying to woo some common
girl who could flirt in the streets.

“What’s her name?” Regis asked.

Thal sighed. “The sign on her home said
Fridrich,” he said.

Regis groaned. A first name would have been
helpful. “Let us go by the house. Maybe we get lucky and run into
her,” he said.

They told Carlo and Raphael where they were
going. The two men stayed behind to keep shopping.

As Thal and Regis walked down Karlova Street,
he explained his first encounter with the woman and that she had
known his mother.

“She told me how she died,” Thal concluded
sadly.

“Again I’m sorry for your loss,” Regis said.
He had heard of witches being put down his whole life but never
thought about those people having grieving family members.

“I’m glad you have not done anything terrible
because of what happened,” Regis said, hoping to keep Thal on a
peaceful course.

“Your advice is hard to follow,” Thal
admitted.

Regis frowned. “Best to move on Thal. This
interest in a girl will be good for you. The sooner you get a girl
the better,” he said.

“Are girls how you keep peace in your heart?”
Thal asked.

“They help,” Regis said, laughing.

Thal supposed that Regis was right. There
were more songs about love than war, but he knew that this woman
would bring him no peace. She possessed information that he needed
so he could fulfill the violent duty to which he had pledged his
heart.

Broken bottles started to litter the street,
and they encountered four men-at-arms in front of a white washed
stone home with yellow shutters and a red tile roof.

Thal boldly stopped in front of the door. The
Fridrich house sign was askew on the wall. “This is it,” he
said.

“Move along you two,” commanded one of the
guards.

Thal ignored him and scanned the windows. His
heart thumped with anticipation.

Pistol ran up the steps.

“Get your cur out of here!” the guard
yelled.

“What happened?” Regis asked and gestured at
the dirty hand prints on the walls alongside the front door.

“There’ll be no more hangers on at the
Magistrate’s house,” the guard insisted and swung his spear out
meaningfully.

Regis stepped back and tugged on Thal’s
cloak, but his friend did not budge. From an upstairs window a
woman with blonde braids was looking down at Thal. Their gazes met
like they had the whole world to themselves. Her mouth hung open as
if fear and delight fought over her lips. Thal saw her as an
irresistible gateway to the other half of life that he could not
experience alone. As the unicorn is drawn to the maid under a pear
tree, his wildness became tame and he wished only for one gentle
stroke of her hand.

“Be gone,” the guard said and stuck his spear
under Thal’s chin.

The intrusive point broke the spell upon
Thal, and he snatched the spear from the man’s grip. He tossed it
like a toy down the street. The spear clattered and spun across the
cobbles. One pedestrian had to hop over its passing shaft. He
yelled.

Thal pulled his pistol and aimed it into the
guard’s face. The stunned man stepped back. His three comrades
pointed their weapons at Thal. Regis hovered in anxious shock.

“Don’t take a spear to a gun fight,” Thal
advised.

“We’ll have you charged and flogged!” one of
the other guards cried.

Thal swung his pistol barrel toward him and
said, “Touch me and I’ll feed your hands to my dog.”

Pistol barked appropriately.

“Thal!” Regis said sharply.

Out of consideration for his friend’s need to
not be arrested or killed, Thal took a step back and pointed his
pistol up. “Excuse my temper,” he said.

“Come!” Regis urged and started down the
street.

Thal looked up for the woman again. She still
stood in the window, amazed by his behavior.

Regis pulled Thal along by the elbow. “Christ
save us. That’s the Magistrate’s house. Why must you be in love
with his daughter? I thought you said you were wanted,” Regis
babbled.

“I’m not in love with her,” Thal said,
annoyed by the remark.

With the attitude of an accomplished Latin
lover, Regis regarded Thal skeptically. “I saw how you looked at
her,” he said.

Thal put his pistol back into his belt. “Love
is not my business with her,” he said.

“No man looks at that one and does not think
of some type of love business,” Regis declared.

“I have nothing to offer a woman,” Thal
muttered to remind himself of the fact.

“We need to get back to the Little Quarter,”
Regis decided after another look back. “That dinner you wanted to
buy us should be ready.”

Fully intending to satisfy that appetite,
Thal agreed. In the square they reunited with Raphael and
Carlo.

“Did you find Thal’s lady?” Raphael
asked.

Regis rolled his eyes and declared that Thal
was determined to add to his list of crimes because of the
woman.

“She very pretty then?” Raphael said, eager
for details.

“She will inspire my next song,” Regis
said.

Thal was ignoring their conversation. He had
spotted one of the town men-at-arms emerging into the square from
Karlova Street. He hailed a patrol of royal guards and was likely
describing his encounter with Thal.

“Let us keep going,” Thal advised and hurried
his friends toward the bridge.

They crossed unmolested, and Regis became
happier with Old Town behind him.

“Thal, you really should not have attacked
that city guard,” he said.

“I did not attack him. I disarmed him,” Thal
corrected.

“Acting like that will make you a more wanted
man,” Regis said.

“I’ll suffer no man to draw arms on me,” Thal
said.

Regis sighed. Although Thal’s nature was
startling it was also admirable. If all men possessed such
unflinching courage perhaps the world would be a fairer place.

“At least you impress that fine girl. She did
not mind seeing you at her door,” Regis said.

A flicker of macho pride erased some of
Thal’s surly mood. Of all the women who had wished to seduce him,
only her interest flattered him.

Regis continued, “I don’t know how I can help
you, my friend. Guards on her door! The daughter of the Magistrate.
Can’t you just go for some tavern maid?”

“The huntsman takes no joy in the slaughter
of chickens,” Thal said.

Laughing, Regis said, “You take all the
romance out. I best stick to singing and leave you to whatever it
is you do.”

“As you wish, but I appreciate your opinions.
I guess I just wished for you to see her,” Thal said.

“You love her,” Regis insisted again.

Sadly Thal admitted, “I want to love her but
my heart has other duties.”

The ominous comment worried Regis, but they
had reached the Magic Flag and he did not wish to belabor the
subject. He could hope that Thal would move on from his impossible
crush on an unreachable woman. At least it was a start toward some
healthy wenching.

The sunny day yielded to a dark interior of
wood construction and furnishings. Each little adz mark upon the
heavy beams told of the patient and skillful chipping of laborers
years ago. Bundles of drying herbs hung from posts and men and
women were filling the benches of the common tables. Thal and his
party moved farther in. He had reserved a room in back where they
could eat in more comfort.

When they entered the private alcove,
Valentino was seated at the center of the table. He raised a stein
adorned with lions and snakes.

“Welcome, Thal Lesky. I’m sure you don’t mind
if I join you for dinner. I’ll buy a round of drinks of course,”
Valentino said.

The self invitation of the Condottiere
perturbed Thal but he slid onto the bench along the wall and seated
himself by Valentino. Following his lead, the musicians piled in
around the table.

“I would’ve thought you dined with more
important people than me,” Thal said.

Valentino took a drink. “Perhaps you are
important,” he said.

A tavern wench brought over four full steins
and distributed them. Regis thanked her for the service. Thal
noticed that his friend’s accent had suddenly become more
pronounced.

“How could I be important to you?” Thal
asked. He felt Pistol settling in by his feet.

“Oh, I’m always in the market for good men,”
Valentino replied.

“I didn’t think I was for sale,” Thal
said.

Valentino chuckled. “Every man has his
price.” In Italian he asked the musicians if they agreed.

“Yes, each man has a price but how often does
he actually get paid?” Regis rejoined and everyone laughed.

The serving woman returned with a basket of
bread rolls. The men tore into them. Amid the quiet of full mouths,
Thal studied Valentino. His shining earrings hinted of profitable
adventures. And his good armor and weapons made clear that his
business was a dangerous one. Delicately detailed designs were
etched into the cuirass depicting horsemen with falcons. A square
cross was at the center of the design.

“Does your armor stop pistol balls?” Thal
asked.

Valentino ran a strong hand across his chest,
obviously proud of his beautiful armor. “Are you thinking of
shooting me?” he asked.

“No. I’d like to get some armor. I worry I
might get shot at,” Thal said.

“You should be worried,” Valentino said
mysteriously and drank some more beer.

Regis, Raphael, and Carlo exchanged looks
across their steins.

“Will it stop a gun?” Thal pressed.

“Sometimes, if one gets lucky,” Valentino
said. “I try to make sure there are other people to shoot at
instead of me.”

“Is that how I can be important to you?” Thal
said.

“No,” Valentino said dramatically. “You’re
much too good for cannon fodder and you know it. Ah, our
dinner!”