by William King
He turned left down Rotten Row and hit the cobbled streets of Commercial Way. Coaches clattered past as merchants made their way to the coffee houses before starting business for the day. He found his way to the Hall of Archives and made his way to the division of the planning office with responsibility for sewers.
He knew he would find what he needed there. Three quarters of an hour, much browsing through ancient, dust-covered files and plans, two threats and one bribe later, he had proven himself to be correct. Pleased with himself, Felix made his way to the watch house.
They were instantly assigned to help out the rest of the watch in the area that had burned: burying the dead, searching the rubble for the living. They marched up to the shantytown to take a look. The fire had ripped through many hovels, the burned and the disfigured dead were everywhere. A little boy, his face blackened by soot, sat near an old woman who whimpered quietly to herself.
“What happened here, son?” Felix asked.
“It was the rat-daemon what did it,” the boy said. “I saw it myself. It killed the men who lived there and carried them below to feast. Ma says it’ll come for me next if I don’t behave.”
Felix exchanged looks with Gotrek. Savage interest was evident in the Trollslayer’s one good eye.
“There’s no such thing as rat-daemons, lad. Don’t lie to us—we’re with the watch.”
“There is too. I saw it with my own eyes. It was taller than you and heavier than that big one-eyed dwarf. It was led by a smaller rat-man with grey skin and horns on its head.”
“Did anyone else see it?”
“Don’t know. I hid. I thought they might take me too.”
Felix shook his head and went to check the ruins of Hef and Spider’s hut. There was little left of the pitiful building save the burned-out remains and the charred corpse of a woman.
“No sign of Hef or Spider?”
Gotrek shook his head and pointed with his toe to something grey and sharp lying in the ashes. “That’s Hef’s knife.”
Felix bent and picked it up. The metal was still warm from lying in the embers. Felix looked at the corpse. The smell of burnt meat filled his nostrils.
“Gilda?” said Felix.
Felix shook his head. Sorrow and rage filled him. He had liked the brothers. They had been good men. Now he wanted vengeance.
“You were an engineer once, Gotrek. Tell me what these mean.”
Felix ignored the Trollslayer’s incredulous look. He cleared a space on the table in the watchroom and spread out the charts. Rudi watched curiously as he smoothed the cracked old parchment flat and weighed down each corner with an empty tea mug.
The Slayer gave his attention back to the papers. These are charts of the sewers, manling. Dwarf-made plans of the Old Quarter.”
“That’s correct. They show the area beneath Chief Magistrate von Halstadt’s mansion. If you look closely, you’ll discover that it’s not too far from the place where Gant was killed. I’d also bet if we looked we’d find a way up from the sewers to his house.”
A frown creased Rudi’s low brow. “You’re suggesting that we break into Fritz von Halstadt’s house! We’ll be hung if we’re caught. We might even lose our jobs!”
“That would be a pity. What do you say, are you in? Rudi?”
“I don’t know…”
“Gotrek?”
“Yes, manling—with one provision.”
“What’s that?”
“If von Halstadt is the Chaos worshipping, skaven-loving, snotling-fondler we saw in the sewer then we kill him.”
An appalled silence hung over the chamber. The import of the Trollslayer’s words sunk into their brains. Felix felt his mouth go dry. What the dwarf was suggesting was murder, pure and simple.
No, he decided, thinking of Gant, and the dead in the New Quarter, it wasn’t murder, it was justice. He’d go along with that. “Fine.”
“There’s no backing out then. Rudi?” The bald-headed man looked shocked. His face was pale and fear was in his eyes.
“You don’t know what you’re suggesting.”
“Are you coming with us or not?” Rudi didn’t answer for a second. “Yes,” he said at last. “I’ll come. I just hope you’re wrong, that’s all.”
“I’m not,” Felix said.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
The sewers had never seemed so ominous to Felix. Shadows danced away from the lantern light. Every time he heard Rudi’s heavy tread behind him, he had to fight the urge to look around. The sound of the Slayer continually tapping the walls with his hatchet blade was getting on his nerves. He knew that Gotrek was only doing it to see if he could find a hollow area but that did not make it any easier to take.
Something was out there. He knew that now. Something had killed Hef and Spider, and their girl too, and it would surely kill the rest of them if they let it. It was the not knowing that was so terrifying. Not knowing what it was that hunted them. Not really knowing why. Not knowing how many skaven might appear, nor what daemonic henchmen they might have. The brothers had been formidable fighters and they were gone.
Worse, half of the Cheap Street shantytown had gone with them. Whatever dark thing sought them had no qualms about killing a lot of people to get the ones it wanted. He asked himself why he had not simply fled the city-state.
He could be on the road even now, not creeping about in this dark, smelly stinkhole. Why did he have to be cursed with this urge to interfere in what was really none of his business?
He already knew the answer. He had to take a stand somewhere, for something. Because if he did not, he would be exactly like his brother, Otto, and all the others like him, pretending that he did not know what was going on; making deals with the Darkness so that it would leave him alone; pretending all was right with the world when he knew that it wasn’t.
Knowing that something was wrong meant that he had to do something about it, even if the only reason for doing it was to keep his self-image intact and allow him to feel superior to those he despised. And if that made him feel a little more like the heroes he used to read about when he was young, well, so much the better.
Thinking about his reasons kept his mind occupied and allowed him to forget his fears. He made himself concentrate on what he knew. The only real lead he had was that he knew that the head of the city’s secret police was in league with the skaven. He had seen it with his own eyes. He did not know why such a thing should be; he only knew that it was so. And that it should be stopped.
“Stop daydreaming, manling. We’ve been down here for hours and we still haven’t found this secret entrance of yours. It’ll soon be dark up above and we’re still no further forward.” Felix gave his attention back to scanning the walls. From up ahead the sound of Gotrek tapping the brickwork with the blade of his hatchet continued.
* * * * *
Thanquol stared around the darkened room. He felt exposed here in the surface world, so high above the ground. He gazed out through the single window and then looked at the straw pallet. Boneripper stood hunched near the doorway, flexing his great claws.
They had stood here in the dark for nearly two hours and still there was no sign of their prey. He lashed his tail in frustration. Where was the stupid man-thing? Why wasn’t he home in bed where he should be? They were all the same, frittering away their time in drunkenness and debauchery. They deserved to be replaced by the Master Race. He swore that he would make this particular man-thing pay for wasting a grey seer’s valuable time.
He didn’t have any more time to waste. He had to meet with von Halstadt and check on the arrangements that had been made for the countess’ homecoming ball. Soon it would be time to reveal to him that Emmanuelle’s guest, the Emperor’s own brother-in-law, was secretly a mutant and worse yet, the countess’ latest lover.
The fact that neither of these things were true was not in the slightest bit important. What was important was that when von Halstadt had the graf kidnapped and tortured, word o
f it would be released. War would come between Nuln and the rest of the Empire. The Emperor could not stand for the insult of his own brother-in-law being tortured by the Elector’s secret police. Civil war would erupt. The greatest kingdom of mankind would be thrown into anarchy. The power of the skaven would grow.
The thought so excited Thanquol that he had to take some powdered warpstone snuff to calm his nerves. The drug bubbled into his brain and filled him with delightful visions of torture, bloodshed and agony.
The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs brought him out of his reverie. He nodded to Boneripper. There was a tentative knock on the door. “Herr Jaeger, it’s me, Frau Zorin. Rent time!”
Before Thanquol could countermand him, Boneripper threw open the door and dragged the old woman inside.
“Herr Jaeger, there’s no need to be so rough!” They were Frau Zorin’s last words before Boneripper tore her throat out.
Well, at least he wouldn’t have to feed the rat-ogre for another three hours, thought the grey seer. He waited for Boneripper to finish his meal.
“Come-come, we have business elsewhere,” he told him. They headed for the sewers and their meeting with von Halstadt.
* * * * *
“Success, manling!” Gotrek exclaimed, and tapped again to make sure. He nodded his head smugly. “I’ve found the passage or my mother was a troll!”
I wouldn’t bet against that, thought Felix, but kept the thought to himself. He watched as the Slayer set down his hatchet and began to run his fingers around the brickwork.
“Nice bit of work this. Well concealed. Probably dwarf, I’d say. No wonder I missed it the other day. The git must have paid a dwarf crew to dig his bolt-tunnel and then sworn them to secrecy. Now if I’m right there should be—”
His stubby powerful fingers pushed against a single brick. It sank into the wall. There came a quiet grinding sound, as of perfectly balanced counterweights shifting. A section of the wall slid back. Felix saw a small vestibule and a metal ladder leading up. Gotrek turned and smiled, revealing his missing teeth. He looked genuinely pleased. “Very nice work indeed. Bugger must have outdistanced me, turned that corner and ducked in. No wonder I couldn’t find him. My eyes were still stinging from the gas, too.”
“There’s no need to make excuses, Gotrek,” Felix said.
“No excuse, manling. I just want—”
“Are we going to stand here all night, young Felix, or are you going to go up and take a look around?” Rudi interrupted.
“Me?”
“Well, all this was your idea.” Felix saw the unease written on Rudi’s face. The big man was scared by the prospect of burgling so important a citizen’s home. Not surprisingly, thought Felix. He’s a watchman. He’s spent the last ten years catching criminals, not being one.
“Are you going to do it, manling, or should I?” The thought of the Trollslayer clumping around upstairs galvanised Felix into action. He remembered Otto’s words about there being Templars of the White Wolf on guard above. He didn’t relish the prospect of being discovered by them.
“I’ll take a look first,” he said, “and I’ll let you know if it’s safe.”
Felix held his breath and glanced around. The ladder emerged in another small chamber with a single door. This led out into a large wine cellar.
Looking back, Felix saw that the door was attached to a wine rack, so that when it was closed it was virtually invisible. Felix checked a label on one of the bottles. He blew away dust to reveal the emblem of one of the best Parravonian vineyards, Desghulles.
“Someone has expensive tastes,” he told himself. He turned swiftly reaching for his sword when he heard the ladder creak behind him. Gotrek’s head poked round the edge of the doorway.
“Don’t wet yourself, manling, it’s me,” he said. Rudi emerged from behind him. “Right, let’s check the house and see if we can find our friend, the chief magistrate.”
“Not much noise above. The place sounds empty.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“I’ll stay here,” Rudi said. “And make sure your line of retreat is covered.”
Felix shrugged. It was probably better than having the big man blundering about up above. “You do that.”
Felix made his way cautiously to the foot of the stairs, keeping his lantern to the narrowest aperture so that only the faintest glimmer of light showed.
“I told you so: the house is empty,” Gotrek said.
Felix had to admit it looked like the dwarf was right. Where were the White Wolf guards? Where were the servants?
“Guards are most likely at the gatehouse. But where are the servants? A place this size should have some.”
“You’d know about that, I suppose.”
“Yes.”
Felix gently put his foot on the stairs. A shiver ran down his spine as it creaked under his weight. He paused and held his breath. No one came to investigate.
“Why are you being so quiet, manling? There’s no one here.”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just because it’s not my house. I feel like a criminal. Why are you whispering?”
“You are being a criminal. So am I. Let’s search this place and see what we can find. You take upstairs. I’ll take below.”
It was only after he padded off near silently that Felix noticed that Gotrek was moving stealthily too. Felix moved on up the stairs, hoping that they would not creak.
In the bedroom, Felix closed the aperture of his lantern completely before sliding aside a curtain and looking outside. He glanced down into a large walled courtyard and he could see over the high walls into the street beyond. A large gate opened into the courtyard. On the left of the square was a stable and coach-house; on the right was a small barracks and a privy for the servants. Old oak trees lined the square. There were sentries: tall blond men in full armour, white wolf pelts draped round their shoulders. One paced from the gatehouse across the courtyard.
For a moment Felix feared that the man might be coming inside, but he soon turned off and headed towards a small barracks next to the stables. Slowly Felix let the curtain slide back into place and then he allowed himself to exhale.
No, it wouldn’t do to get caught here. The White Wolves had a reputation for ferocity that equalled that of a Slayer, and there were at least half a dozen of them out there.
The most appropriate thing to do when he found the locked door was to force it. He jimmied it open with the blade of his shortsword and went in. He found himself in a place that reminded him of the ledger hall in his father’s warehouse back in Altdorf.
It was a big room dominated by an oak desk large enough to hold a party on. The walls were lined with filing boxes, hundreds and hundreds of them. He opened one at random and pulled out a thick sheaf of papers written in a precise hand. Glancing through it, he came upon the name of the countess and notes referring to several of her better-known lovers. There was an extensive section dealing with suspected mutation in her family. Many sources were quoted.
What drew Felix’s attention were the references to “our most special source” and “our friends down below”. He picked up another file and went through it. There were similar notes. One referred to the need for a certain Slazinger to disappear. The files were sorted alphabetically. He couldn’t resist it. He sought out the one on the Jaeger family. After finding one concerning a family of bakers on Cake Street who shared the same name, he got his own family file on the second try—Felix felt his stomach lurch when he came across references to the merchant house of Jaeger and Sons. The file remarked on how amenable his brother Otto was and noted that he was a sound man who gave generously to the elector’s fund for the maintenance of civil order. As he flipped the page he saw his own name mentioned. He read on.
Thanquol noticed that the secret entrance to von Halstadt’s had been disturbed almost as soon as he entered. There was a strange manscent in the air of the chamber at the foot of the ladder. Several manscents in fact, and something that sm
elled like dwarf.
Fool-fool! he cursed inside, gnawing at the tip of his tail. The spy-master had been discovered. It didn’t take the application of a mind as clever as Thanquol’s to work out by whom. He had two man-things and a dwarf left to kill.
Well, the man-things had saved him the bother of tracking them down. Their desire to meddle in business that was not theirs would prove to be their undoing.
He nodded to Boneripper and chittered his instructions. The ladder groaned under the weight of the rat-ogre. It swarmed up the rungs, as agile as an ape.
Felix shook his head. He was referred to as a spendthrift younger son who had vanished under mysterious circumstances. There was a line devoted to his duel with Krassner and a hastily scribbled memo in pencil to the effect that a further investigation should be conducted.
Well, perhaps there were worse things to be than the black sheep of the Jaeger family. Perhaps he should show Gotrek. Maybe there was something in the files about the Slayer too. He was just about to look when he heard the door open down below.
Damn, he thought, closing the chamber door. He’d have to wait.
Von Halstadt knew he was running late. He hoped the skaven was too. He deplored giving the wrong impression even to a brute like the skaven. But Emmanuelle was due back tomorrow and he wanted every little detail of her household to be perfect.
He imagined the smile with which she would reward his diligence and knew that all his care had been worthwhile. Even if he had been forced to waste fifteen minutes punishing that young footman for his clumsiness in setting the paintings. The flogging had left the magistrate tired and sweaty, and in need of a bath.
He picked up a house lantern and lit it. The gloom rushed away from him. Von Halstadt was going to call a servant to draw some water when he recalled that he had given them all the night off because the skaven was coming. He would have to forego the pleasure of a wash until later. The skaven’s tidings were more important.