by Warhammer
Felix Jaeger glanced around the suddenly empty street. It didn’t look like anyone else was going to help the poor devil, so it seemed the job fell to him. He covered his mouth with his tattered cloak and knelt beside the body. He laid a hand on the man’s chest, searching for a heartbeat.
It was too late. The man was beyond any help: he was dead. Felix had enough experience of death to know.
‘Felix, come away. I’m frightened.’
Felix looked up. Elissa stood nearby, her face pale and her eyes wide. She ran a hand through her curly black hair, then brought it back to her mouth.
‘Nothing to be frightened of,’ Felix said. ‘The man is dead.’
‘It’s what killed him that scares me. It looks like he died of the new plague.’
Felix stood up, superstitious fear filling his mind. For the first time he was forced to consider the death he had just witnessed and the reason why everyone else had fled.
Plagues were terrible things. They could strike anywhere, kill anyone, rich or poor. No one knew what caused them. Some said the dark influence of Chaos. Some said they were the wrath of the gods on sinful humanity. The only certainty with plague was that there was very little that you could do to save yourself once you caught it, save pray. Such virulent diseases could baffle the best of physicians and the most potent of mages. Felix stepped away from the body quickly and moved to put his arm around Elissa reassuringly. She shied away, as if he carried the contagion.
‘I don’t have the plague,’ he said, hurt.
‘You never know.’
Felix glanced down at the body and shivered.
‘It certainly wasn’t that poor soul’s lucky day,’ Elissa said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Take a look. There’s a black rose on his tunic. He’d just been to a funeral.’
‘Well, now he’s going to his own,’ Felix said softly.
‘That’s the fourth death today from the plague that I’ve heard of,’ Heinz said when Felix told him the news. ‘The lads in the bar are talking about nothing else. They’ve a sweepstake going on how many it will be by nightfall.’
In a way, Felix was glad of this news. For the past few days, the citizens had talked of nothing but the burning down of the College of Engineering. Most claimed it was sabotage perpetrated by Chaos worshippers or the Bretonnians. Felix continually felt spasms of guilt as he was reminded of his own participation in the event.
‘What do you think?’ Felix asked, looking around at how many people were present. The bar was packed to capacity, and the inevitable jostling was already causing friction. Felix felt certain there would be trouble this evening.
‘I put my money on it being ten. Last year, when the Red Pox came, there were twenty people gone by noon. But then the Red Pox was a nasty one. Worst in twenty years. Still, you never know – this one might be worse before it’s done.’
‘I meant, what do you think caused it?’ Felix said. ‘How do you think it spreads?’
‘I’m not a physician, Felix, I’m a bartender. I guess that it’s spread by tinkers and witches. That’s what my old wife Lotte used to say.’
‘Do you think I could have caught it from that poor man?’
‘Maybe. I wouldn’t worry. When Old Man Morr pulls your name out of his big black hat, there’s nothing you can do about it, that’s what I think. One thing’s for sure, though.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s good for business. Soon as plague comes, people hit the taverns. They want to forget about it as quick as they can.’
‘Maybe they want to die drunk.’
‘There’s worse ways to die, young Felix.’
‘That there is.’
‘Well, you’d better get over there and stop those Tileans drawing knives on each other, or we’ll soon have a graphic demonstration of just that.’
‘I’ll deal with it.’
Felix moved to hastily intervene in the dispute. In a few seconds he had far more immediate dangers to worry about than catching the plague.
‘So you’re not worried about the plague?’ Felix said, ducking a swing from a drunken mercenary.
‘Never catch the things, manling,’ Gotrek Gurnisson replied, grabbing the mercenary’s ear, pulling his head down level with the dwarf’s own and then dropping the man with a headbutt which sent blood from the man’s bleeding nose spraying outwards to add a new and brighter tint to the Slayer’s great crest of red-dyed hair. ‘Been right through a dozen sieges. Humans dropped like flies; I was fine. Dwarfs don’t usually get the plague. We leave that to less hardy races like elves and men.’
Felix caught two of the mercenary’s squabbling comrades by the scruffs of their necks and hauled them upright. Gotrek grabbed one, Felix grabbed the other and they ran them out through the swinging doors into the muddy streets.
‘Worst thing I’ve ever had was a bad hangover,’ Gotrek said. ‘And don’t come back!’ he bellowed out into the street.
Felix turned to survey the bar. As Heinz had predicted, it was full. Slumming nobles mingled with half the cut-throats and rakehells of the city. A big gang of mercenaries fresh in from the Middenheim caravan route were spending their money like there was going to be no tomorrow.
Maybe they were right, Felix thought; maybe there wouldn’t be a tomorrow. Maybe all the streetcorner seers were right. Maybe the end of the world was coming. Certainly the world had ended today, as far as that man who had died in the street was concerned.
In the far corner, he could see that Elissa was talking to a brawny young man garbed in the rough tunic and leggings of a peasant. Their conversation became animated for a moment, then Elissa turned to leave. As she did so, the youth reached out and grabbed her wrist. Felix began to move over to intervene. Being pawed was an occupational hazard for the serving wenches but he didn’t like it happening to Elissa. She turned and said something to the youth. His hand opened and he let go immediately, a look of something like shock on his face. Elissa left him there, his mouth hanging open and a pained look in his eyes.
Elissa hurried past, chin up, carrying a tray full of empty tankards. Felix caught her by the arm, turned her around, kissed her cheek.
‘I don’t have the plague,’ he said, but she still wriggled away.
Felix could hear the word ‘plague’ being discussed at every table. It was as if there were no other topic of conversation in the whole blasted city.
‘Really, I don’t,’ Felix added softly. He turned around and noticed that the youth who had been talking to Elissa was staring at him with a look of anger in his eyes. Felix was tempted to go over and talk to him but before he could, the young peasant got up and stalked none too steadily to the door.
‘I know you don’t have the plague,’ Elissa said, snuggling closer to Felix on the pallet they shared. She picked up a piece of straw which had burst out of the hole in the mattress and began to tickle him under the nose with it. ‘You don’t have to keep telling me. Really, I wish you’d just shut up about it.’
‘Maybe I’m trying to reassure myself,’ he said, grabbing her wrist and immobilising her hand. He reached over with his other hand and began to tickle her. ‘Who was that you were talking to earlier?’ he asked.
‘When?’
‘Down in the bar. A young man. Looked straight off the farm.’
‘Oh, you saw him, then?’ she asked, her voice all feigned innocence.
‘Apparently so.’
‘That was Hans.’
‘And who is Hans?’ Felix said levelly.
‘He’s just a friend.’
‘He didn’t seem to think so, judging by the look he gave me.’
‘We used to go out together back in my village but he was very jealous and he had a terrible temper.’
‘He hit you?’
‘No, he hit any man who looked at me in what he thought was the wrong way. The village elders got fed up with it and put him in the stocks. After that he ran away to the city, to look for his
fortune, he said.’
‘Is that why you came here, to find him?’
‘Maybe. It was a long time ago and Nuln’s a big place. I never saw him again, until tonight, when he came into the Pig. He hasn’t changed much.’
‘You were close?’
‘Once.’
‘Not now?’
‘No.’ Elissa looked at him seriously. ‘You ask a lot of questions, Felix Jaeger.’
‘Then stop me asking,’ he said and began to kiss her hungrily. But in his mind, he was still wondering about Elissa and Hans and what had gone on between them.
Grey Seer Thanquol helped himself to another pinch of warpstone snuff. The brain-blastingly potent drug sent a charge of pure energy through his body, and his tail stiffened in ecstatic joy. He basked in the warm glow of triumph.
His intricately woven scheme had succeeded and his rival Heskit One Eye’s plan to seize all of the technological secrets of the human College of Engineering had been thwarted. Thanquol bared his fangs in a death’s head grin when he considered Heskit’s discomfiture. He had made the proud warp engineer grovel in the dirt before his whole army while he explained what he had been doing. He had berated Heskit for almost jeopardising the whole glorious campaign to assault Nuln by his ill-considered actions, and sent him slinking off with his tail between his legs.
Now Heskit had retired to his chambers to sulk, while he waited for reinforcements to arrive from Skavenblight to replace the warriors he had lost on the surface. With any luck no new warriors would come. Heskit might even be recalled to Skavenblight to explain his actions to his superiors. Perhaps, Thanquol thought, with a word in the right ear this course of action could be encouraged.
The curtain which separated Thanquol’s private burrow from the rest of the Underways was wrenched open and a small skaven entered the chamber.
Reflexively Thanquol sprang back behind his throne. The eerie glow of dark magic surrounded his paw as he summoned the energy to blast the interloper to atoms, but then he saw that it was only Lurk Snitchtongue, and he stayed his spell for a moment.
‘Grave news, most potent of potentates!’ Lurk chittered, then fell silent as he noticed the aura of magic which surrounded the grey seer. ‘No! No! Most merciful of masters, don’t kill me! Don’t! Don’t!’
‘Never, on pain of death most excruciating, ever burst into my chambers unannounced again,’ Thanquol said, not relaxing his vigilance for a moment. After all, you could never tell when an assassination attempt might happen. Jealous rivals were everywhere.
‘Yes! Yes, most perceptive of seers. Never again shall it happen. Only…’
‘Only what?’
‘Only I bring most important tidings, great one.’
‘What would those be?’
‘I have heard rumours–’
‘Rumours? Do not barge into my sacred chambers and talk to me about rumours!’
‘Rumours from a usually reliable source, greatest of authorities.’
Thanquol nodded. That was different. Over the past few days Thanquol had come to have a certain respect for Lurk’s host of informants. The little skaven had a talent for ferreting out information that rivalled even Thanquol’s… almost. ‘Go on. Speak! Speak! Waste not my precious time!’
‘Yes! Yes! I have heard rumours that Vilebroth Null and his chief acolytes have left the Underways and went surfacewards to the mancity of Nuln, there to establish a secret burrow.’
What could the Clan Pestilens abbot be up to, thought Thanquol, his mind reeling? What did this signify? It inevitably meant some sort of treachery to the sacred skaven cause, some scheme to grab the glory that was rightfully Thanquol’s. ‘Go on!’
‘It may be that they took with them the Cauldron of a Thousand Poxes!’
Oh no, thought Thanquol. The cauldron was one of the most hideously powerful artefacts that Clan Pestilens was thought to possess. Since early runthood, Thanquol had heard dire tales of its powers. It was said to be the means of infallibly brewing terrible diseases, an artefact stolen from a temple of the Plague God, Nurgle, back when the world was young, and reconsecrated to the service of the Horned Rat.
If the cauldron was on the surface somewhere, that could only mean Vilebroth Null meant to start a plague among the humans. Under normal circumstances, Thanquol would have been only too pleased by such an eventuality – just as long as he was a thousand leagues away! Clan Pestilens plagues had a habit of running out of control, of afflicting skaven as well as their intended victims. Only the plague monks themselves seemed immune. Many seemingly assured skaven triumphs had been undermined by just this occurrence. Now Clan Pestilens were only supposed to unleash their creations by special authorisation of the Council of Thirteen.
The last thing Thanquol wanted at this moment was his army destroyed by a runaway plague. He considered the implications still more. Of course, the council did not argue with success. Perhaps the plague might succeed in weakening the humans without afflicting the skaven horde. But if it succeeded, the Council of Thirteen might extend its favour to Vilebroth Null, and withdraw its patronage from Thanquol. Null might even be rewarded with the leadership of the invasion force.
Thanquol considered. What else could be going on here? If the scheme was an honest effort to help the invasion, why had Thanquol not been informed? He, after all, was supreme commander. No – this had to be some sinister scheme of Null’s to seize power. Something would have to be done about this treachery and this blatant defiance of the Council of Thirteen’s edicts.
Then another thought struck Thanquol. His agents on the surface had already reported tales of some new and dreadful disease spreading among the human burrows. Undoubtedly Vilebroth Null had already begun to implement his wicked plan. There was no time to waste!
‘Quick! Quick! Where did those treacherous vermin go?’
‘I know not, most lordly of lords. My agents could not say!’
‘Run! Quick! Quick! Scuttle off and find out.’
‘At once, most decisive of leaders!’
‘Wait! Wait! Before you go, bring me parchment and pen. I have an idea.’
‘You sneezed!’ Elissa said.
‘Did not!’ Felix said, well aware that he was lying. His eyes felt puffy and his nose was dripping. He was sweating a little too. And was that the first faint tickle of a sore throat he felt?
Elissa began to cough hackingly. She covered her mouth with one hand but her whole body shook.
‘You coughed,’ Felix said, and wished that he had not. Tears had started to appear in the corner of the girl’s eyes.
‘Oh Felix,’ she said. ‘Do you think we have the plague?’
‘No. Absolutely not,’ Felix replied, but in his heart of hearts he was far from certain. Cold dread clutched at him. ‘Get dressed,’ he said. ‘We’ll go and see a physician.’
The doctor was a busy man today; that much was obvious, thought Felix. There had been a queue stretching halfway around the block from his small and dingy office. It seemed like half the city was there, coughing and wheezing and hawking and spitting into the street. There was an air of barely suppressed panic. Once or twice Felix had seen people come to blows.
This was useless, Felix decided. They would never see a physician today under these conditions, and the aisles of the Temple of Shallya were full of supplicants. There had to be a better way.
‘Come on. I have an idea,’ he said, grabbing Elissa by her hand and pulling her from the queue.
‘No, Felix, I want to see the doctor.’
‘You will – don’t worry.’
‘Felix! What are you doing here?’ Otto did not look pleased. In fact, he had not looked pleased since Felix had refused his offer of returning to the family business and, instead, started work in the Blind Pig. Felix looked at his brother keenly. Otto was dressed particularly richly today in a gown of purple brocade trimmed with ermine, and Felix felt his own ragged appearance keenly. It had taken him nearly ten minutes to convince the clerks to let him i
n and see his brother.
‘I thought you might be able to help me.’ Felix sniffed. There was a strange scent in the room, of spices and the sort of flowers that one usually only smelled at funerals. Felix wondered where it had come from.
‘I’ll do what I can, of course.’ Otto regarded him warily.
Ever the merchant, thought Felix, waiting to see what price was going to be asked.
‘I need to see a doctor.’
Otto’s eyes darted from Felix to Elissa and back to Felix again. Felix could almost see the thoughts forming behind his brow.
‘You haven’t… got this girl into trouble, have you?’
Felix laughed for the first time that day. ‘No.’
‘Then what’s the problem?’
Quickly Felix told his brother about the man who had died in the streets, about his own symptoms and the huge queues at the doctor’s and the Temple of Shallya. Otto steepled his fingers and listened attentively, occasionally fumbling with a brass pomander which he lifted to his nose and breathed deeply from. At once Felix identified the source of the smell in the chamber.
‘What’s that?’ he asked.
‘A pomander of wildroot and silverspice from Far Cathay. The vapours are a sovereign remedy for all airborne fluxes and evil humours, or so Doctor Drexler assures me. Perhaps you’d like to try it?’
He unhooked the chain from around his neck and extended the small perforated sphere to Felix. The smell was very strong. He politely handed it to Elissa. She placed it beneath her nostrils inhaled deeply and began to cough.
‘It certainly clears the nostrils,’ she gasped, eyes watering.
Felix took the pomander and breathed deeply. He immediately understood what Elissa had meant. The vapours cut through the air like a knife. They had a sharp, minty tang and almost at once a feeling of warmth spread through his head and chest. His nose felt clearer and his breathing came easier.