Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (54 page)

“I will remember to say so,” Rocko said
although Regis doubted him. Every song was yours when you sang
it.

“And I’ll credit the Bohemian songs to you
when again I sing in Venice,” Regis said.

“You honor me,” Rocko said. His fingers
tinkled across his harp, gently playing the melody he had just
learned.

“We should probably go,” Regis said, sweeping
his eyes around the room. The audience was thinning. It was late
and work started early in the summer. Regis had singing to do for
his hostess on the morrow as well and he needed his rest. He hoped
Carlo and Raphael would not be too hungover, but he did not resent
their indulgence. The relaxed atmosphere and happy attitude were
things to treasure. Nights such as these erased all the hardships
of their travels.

The maid who had been serving beer all
evening brought Regis a freshly filled stein. The froth on top was
creamy and smelled of summer fields.

“No need to rush away,” she said. Her eyes
smiled with the admiration that Regis was accustomed to seeing in
women’s eyes. Perhaps they could stay out a little later.

Four men started out the front door. As they
exited, someone in the street demanded, “Are those Venetian players
in there?”

“Oh yes. They’re grand,” declared one of the
men as he left.

Regis looked toward the door, wondering who
was looking for them. They were getting a reputation around the
Little Quarter and mayhap another household was hoping to hire
them.

The man who entered dashed his pleasant
hopes. Wearing armor and weapons and a sour look, he did not appear
to be the sort who secured entertainment.

“You’re no man of Bohemia,” the armed man
said and strode toward Regis.

“What do you want?” Regis demanded. He did
not recognize the light haired man with gray in his beard and an
uncompromising scowl. Regis hopped over the bench to put it between
him and the newcomer. Rocko backed away as did the maid.

The man kicked the bench out of the way,
grabbed Regis by his shirt, spun him around, and slammed him
against the wall. Carlo bounded to his defense and tried to pull
the big man off his friend, but five more armed men barged into the
tavern. Two of them seized Carlo. He protested and struggled until
his feet came off the floor but he could not escape.

The proprietress stalked out of her kitchen
with her fists tight around a broom handle. “Be off with you
hooligans! I don’t tolerate any rough stuff in my place,” she
declared.

The man who had Regis looked over his
shoulder. “These men are in league with a notorious fugitive. We’ll
have them out of here in a trice,” he said.

“But they’re just musicians,” the lady
protested.

Raphael sauntered back into the tavern. Half
in a stupor, he was looking down and fumbling with his codpiece.
The laces on his new clothes were vexing and foreign.

“Run!” Carlo shouted.

Raphael looked up and was astounded by the
scene. He looked first to his lute case on the floor near the feet
of the men holding Carlo. He was loath to flee without it or to
abandon his companions. Men laid hands upon him and pressed him
painfully against a wall.

“Stop this!” the proprietress insisted and
prodded an intruder with her broom.

Before she became more annoying, the man
restraining Regis said, “I am Jan Bradcek Captain of the Guard at
Rosenberg Castle. I’ve tracked a perilous fugitive to Prague and
I’ll set this place on fire if I hear one more word out of
you.”

The awful threat gave her pause. The maid
caught her eye and shook her head a little.

Jan pressed his elbow against the back of
Regis’s neck. “Where is Thal?” he hissed.

“Who?” Regis said.

The elbow gouged his upper neck until he
thought his head would pop off. Jan said, “I heard all about you
players from the folk around Patercek’s castle. Seems all of your
songs are quite unforgettable. As was your companion Thal. Don’t
deny it!” He banged Regis’s head against the stone wall.

“Stop this. You’re beastly,” the proprietress
dared to say.

Jan supposed he did not have to interrogate
the musicians here. He had a nice little place prepared for them.
Wheeling Regis around like a kitten hanging from its mother’s
mouth, Jan said, “Forgive the disturbance.”

He and his men hustled the three musicians
into the dark street. The witnesses in the tavern gaped at the
sudden emptiness after the unexpected violence.

Finally the maid said, “Did he say he was
looking for Thal?”

Rocko and the proprietress recognized the
name that everyone gossiped about. Rocko suddenly understood much
better one of the songs Regis had taught him.

******

With swords to their backs the musicians were
marched through the dark streets. They took many turns and ended up
at a run down stable. Jan and his henchmen dragged them inside a
dark stall.

“Don’t hurt us,” Regis said after he caught
his breath.

Jan hollered for a lantern. One of his men
returned from another building with one. The light revealed the
dirt floor, dingy old straw, and the shadowy posts between the
stalls.

“Tie them up,” Jan ordered.

The three friends struggled again but they
were outnumbered. Coarse hemp ropes dug into their wrists and each
man was backed up against a post and tied to it.

“Why are you doing this?” Carlo said. He was
shaking with terror and considerably more sober now.

Jan grabbed his face. “Because I can’t find
that blasted Thal, and I know you know him.”

“Who?” Carlo asked. Jan smacked him across
the face. Blood flew from his lips.

“Stop pretending that you don’t know him,”
Jan yelled.

“You have the wrong people,” Regis cried.
When Jan stormed over to him, he added quickly, “If you say this
fugitive is with musicians, many are in Prague. It’s not us.”

Regis earned a hard blow that sent blood
pouring from his nose. “I know it’s Venetian musicians. Now tell me
where Thal is,” Jan said.

Licking and spitting away the blood, Regis
begged him to let them go, insisting again he had the wrong
men.

Jan seized his chin and leaned in close. “A
good beating has gotten stronger men than you talking,” he
said.

Regis said nothing. Despite the trauma he was
trying to think. Thal’s warnings about associating with him were
now vividly apt, but Regis was not the type to betray a friend.

Jan’s henchmen swatted Carlo and Raphael.
Their cries tortured Regis. He had to save his friends, but he was
not sure if he could do it.

All three men refused to acknowledge Thal.
Jan put his hands on his hips. New armor emblazoned with roses
encased his torso. He studied his prisoners. He had thought that
they would immediately squeal with information about their
companion. Their loyalty irked him. All the time he had tracked
Thal across Bohemia, he had not heard a bad word about the man.
Everyone liked the scoundrel.

Jan drew a long knife. He patted it against a
palm. “Which one is the singer?” he inquired.

No one responded. Jan approached Carlo and
pressed the knife against his throat. He squirmed and pulled
against his bonds until his wrists bled.

“I don’t need all of you alive. Two can
inform me just as well as three,” Jan said.

Fearing he truly would slash Carlo’s throat,
Regis blurted, “I’m the singer.”

Smiling, Jan went over to Regis. The first
bit of truth out of a prisoner was always the beginning of more. He
told one of his men to get the tongs.

Two more men descended on Regis. They pried
at his jaws and plugged his nose until he had to gasp for air. Then
strong hands held his jaws open and the other man grabbed his
tongue with the tongs. The pain was terrible. Garbled screams
greeted Jan as he came close with his knife.

“Not going to do much singing without your
tongue,” he said.

Regis shut his eyes and wailed.

“Stop!” Raphael shrieked. “He might be in Old
Town, across the river.”

Jan took the knife away from the tongue. The
men let go of Regis’s head. He was gasping and weeping. Jan went
over to Raphael. “He might be?” he said.

“He went that way. He has a lady there,”
Raphael said.

“No!” Carlo yelled, angry that his friend had
betrayed Thal.

“I have to!” Raphael said, certain that he
was making the best decision in a bad situation.

“That’s right. You have to,” Jan agreed. “Is
he there now?”

Raphael shook his head. “I don’t know.
Sometimes he disappears for days. We don’t really know what he
does.”

Jan put his knife away and pondered the
information.

Regis spat some blood. He forgave Raphael for
giving up the information for the sake of saving his tongue, but he
had to try and think of a way to save them all. “You have to let us
go,” he said.

“Wouldn’t you like that,” Jan sneered and his
henchmen chuckled at the stupid request. “All of you are going
straight to the jail. I have gathered plenty of testimony about you
traveling with that monster.”

“If you don’t let us go, Thal will come for
us. We’re his friends and you don’t know what he’ll do to you,”
Regis argued.

“You just freely admitted to being in league
with your Devil-worshipping friend,” Jan said.

“I’m warning you! Let us go or he’ll kill
you. I’ve seen what he can do. You can’t imagine!” Regis said.

“Oh, I know exactly what he can do,” Jan
insisted. He put a pistol on Regis’s lips. “I beheld his beast
flesh take shape under the full moon. If you want to claim that he
will come to your defense, you better start screaming.”

Jan drew his pistol away. Regis’s blood was
smeared on its tip. “I’m not sure if he’ll come,” Regis admitted,
hoping he would not really need to start screaming.

“Why would he come for you slothful sinners
anyway?” Jan said.

“Because he saved us before,” Regis said. “We
don’t know who you are. Thal is just a man who helped us on the
road to Prague. He never mentioned you.”

“I’m sure it’s not his habit to mention the
victims of his crimes,” Jan said. With pleasure he observed that
his statement caused a ripple of doubt within Thal’s merry little
retinue. They had not been thinking of him as a criminal. Jan
resolved to educate them. He regaled them with the tale of Thal
stealing his gun and armor and his boots, even his pants. For added
measure he recounted the various crimes listed on the wanted notice
he had drafted, which included the death of three babies in nearby
villages because of his magical presence.

“And as all of you should know, he is a Devil
beast created of the worst sorcery. You should all burn for keeping
his company let alone trying to protect him,” Jan concluded.

His prisoners looked down with sheepish
shame. The ropes dug into their sinful flesh. Jan expected that
they were reviewing deeply their association with Thal.

Regis had a hard time imagining Thal killing
babies, but this was hardly the time for defending Thal from lies.
“Please, let us go. We had no idea he was so terrible. He must have
tricked us with his magic. I see that now. I don’t know how I
didn’t see it before. He has a way of making people like him.
Surely you’ve heard the talk of such things,” Regis said.

Carlo and Raphael added their own pleas as
well, claiming to have been duped by a fair-faced Devil.

Jan shook his head. “Souls of true faith
wouldn’t have fallen for his magic tricks. In the morning I’ll see
you charged with Devil worship. I doubt you’ll be singing songs
when they lead you to the stake. You’ll piss yourselves while the
crowd screams for the fires to be lit,” Jan said.

“God no!” Carlo moaned.

“Please we’ll help you find him,” Regis
offered, determined to say anything to gain release.

Jan hit him across the face again and told
him to be silent.

Defying the command, Regis said, “Give us a
way to redeem ourselves. This could be your only chance to find
him. He trusts us.”

“I suppose he does,” Jan murmured. He needed
to get the most value he could from these prisoners. No warrants or
rewards existed for them. Turning them into the Magistrate would
not compensate him for his trouble or get him Thal.

“I can’t speak for your redemption but I can
spare your lives if you bring me Thal,” Jan said.

“Yes. I’ll do it!” Regis cried.

“Not you,” Jan said. He walked over to Carlo
and grabbed him by the hair. “I’ll send you to find your friend.
Bring him back here or I’ll cut out that one’s tongue and send the
other to his death. And you’ll die penniless playing your horn in
the street without pretty boy to sing.”

Tears spurted from Carlo’s eyes because of
the hair nearly ripping from his scalp. “I’ll find him,” he said
despite his desperate fear that he would fail.

Jan knocked Carlo’s head against the post
when he let go of his hair. “I’ll send you out in the morning,” he
said. He wanted to make sure that Thal approached in the daylight.
He hoped to ambush him, kill him, and keep the fur for himself.

Professor Zussek banged on the door
insistently, knowing that Martin’s valet was plodding down the
hall. When Hynek finally hauled open the door, the professor pushed
past him and yelled for his friend.

He found Martin in the dining room eating
eggs and pastries. His two oldest sons were in attendance as well,
and everyone looked up with surprise. The tranquil domestic scene
informed the professor that the Magistrate had not heard the
terrible news.

“Martin! We must speak,” Zussek cried,
deciding to spare the youths the gory details.

“What’s got you in such a dither?” Martin
said.

Zussek further alarmed him by rushing to the
window and glancing into the street.