by Tracy Falbe
“No,” she said and took a seat.
Her impertinence forced him to smile. He spooned more food into his mouth. Now that he was eating, his hunger made itself known. She watched patiently as he completed the meal.
“You can take this away now,” he said.
Altea ignored his attempt to dismiss her. “Why did you leave me to deal with the other monks alone?” she said.
“I had complete confidence in you,” Sarputeen said.
She had not thought of it that way, and her resentment about the situation faded. “Convincing them to leave was not too difficult,” she reported.
“They knew better than to come here. I’m glad I only had to kill that one fool,” he said.
Altea rubbed her thumbs. The cold weather made them ache. “What have you been doing?” she asked.
He frowned. Many years of seclusion had left him unprepared for her prying.
“I was remembering Gretchen,” he admitted. He picked up the silver box. “Her blood covered this. Her magic is strong upon it. She used it to complete the werewolf spell upon Thal.” He lifted it closer to his nose and closed his eyes. The scent of her flesh lingered, and his memories swung between bliss and sorrow.
“Tell me about when she was young,” Altea said.
Sarputeen sat back in his chair. Looking up wistfully, he said, “She was beautiful, of course. She was unlike any other woman. She went where she pleased. She did what she pleased. Men could not control her…Not even me.”
His gaze shifted briefly to the silver box, distracted by the painful energy that clung to it. He continued, “She traveled during the summers. She would gather herbs from mountains, riverbanks, valleys. She would offer aid to the sick and injured. People in need would hear about her and seek her out. This naturally attracted attention, sometimes from those who would see those such as her put down. I met her at one of her summer camps along the Danube. After curing two sick children, peasants began to proclaim her a miracle worker. Not long after that, a local lord sent men to drive her off or worse.”
Sarputeen touched his chest, “I told her I would dispatch the scoundrels, but she bid me to stay back. I think she meant to protect me from trouble.
“The men circled her camp on horseback. They knocked over her cooking tripod and drying racks. One lit a stick and meant to set her tent afire. That’s when she stood up. She spoke. Her voice was different. It was the first time I heard her use magic. Her words made me feel like I was smelling roses, and I’m sure the men she confronted felt the sensation even more strongly. Serenity overtook their violent faces. Gently, she scolded them for their actions. Then, they begged her pardon and set back up that which they had knocked over.”
“How did she get such magic?” Altea wondered.
“I imagine that you’ve gotten your way with sweet words more than once,” he commented wryly.
“Not often enough,” she said, looking down.
“I meant that which is natural inside everyone she could command with potent delicacy. No woman ever impressed me like she did. I had to make her my mate,” he said.
“And so you wooed her?” Altea said.
“I don’t know if I wooed her so much as she found me better than another,” he grumbled, thinking darkly of Tekax.
He continued, “Tekax, the one we must destroy, captured her attention not long after I met her. He tempted her away to Buda. I asked her not to go, but she was determined. I stalked her to Buda. I hung outside the city, hoping to approach her when she left. Tekax knew I was close. He sent many wretched men to hunt me and drive me off, but his sorcery cannot defeat me in field or wood.
“Eventually, she left the city. He had failed to seduce her. She was too magnificent to be tempted by his unwholesome power, but I suppose she had been curious. When I spotted her, it was a late fall day. The leaves were golden and the sun was shining when I revealed myself to her on a rural road. She came to me, and we were together for many years after that.”
“And Thal was born,” Altea interjected.
He nodded.
During the ensuing silence, Altea gathered her courage. “Sarpu, can you teach me magic?”
“I can try,” he said.
His positive response relieved her because she had feared his rejection.
“I can’t promise that you will learn. You’ve only known the narrow world of modern men. Your mind may not be open to such things,” he warned.
“My mind has been opened to many things,” she insisted.
“True enough, but once I begin to teach you, you’ll see how the world has limited your mind. It will be hard to understand in new ways,” he said.
“It’s the path I must take. I want to be of more use. You and Thal need me,” she said.
“We do,” he agreed. “Your first task will be to think on what type of magic do you want?”
“What types are there?” she asked.
“That is for you to decide,” he answered, knowing it was a frustrating fact to the novice but a source of inspiration to the master.
Even if she did not understand, she believed in his wisdom. “I will think on it, Sarpu,” she said.
“Good.”
Already she wondered about the possibilities and asked, “Did you teach Mileko magic?”
“He knew much when he came to me. His abilities came to him naturally. I have helped him expand and fine tune his power according to his wishes,” Sarputeen said.
“Do you expect Mileko home soon?” she wondered.
The thought of Mileko made his heart shudder with worry.
“I had thought he might be back by now,” he admitted. He regretted suddenly sending Mileko on the mission. It had been exceptionally dangerous even if he had considered Mileko up to the task.
Altea understood that Mileko had gone forth to gather news of the fext and Tekax. Sarputeen noted that she shared his concern about Mileko’s long absence. “You care for him, don’t you?” he said.
“He did much to help us on our journey here,” she said. “And…”
“What?”
“He’s lonely.”
“He likes to be alone,” Sarputeen said.
“So he thinks,” she said.
“Hopefully, he’ll be with us soon,” Sarputeen said.
“Perhaps he can help me learn magic too,” Altea said.
“What is Thal’s advice on the subject?” Sarputeen asked.
“He says that I must be cautious.”
The old man nodded. “Truly. He has much to learn himself. He does not know magic so much that he is a work of magic.”
Sarputeen took the silver box and put it in a breast pocket. “There’s so little time,” he murmured.
“I’ll try to learn as fast as I can,” Altea assured him.
“I know.”
The troubles consuming his mind suddenly slipped away. He stood up and cocked his head. Hope brightened his face. He went to the window and threw open the heavy shutter. The stiff wind banged it against the stone wall.
Altea clutched her arms against the chilly blast. Then, she heard it. The howl enlivened the valley like a bow across violin strings.
“Thal!” she cried, coming to her feet.
Sarputeen smiled to her. “He returns and is not alone,” he said.
“Who could be with him?” she said.
“Our new servants,” he replied.
Her obvious confusion informed him that she did not know what he was talking about.
“Thal has not told you?” Sarputeen said.
She shook her head. She had not suspected that Thal was keeping a secret, and she could not imagine what new servants might be in his company.
Sarputeen chose to explain the situation. “The payment I demanded from the Duke was men. Men to be made into werewolves to serve us,” he said. He swelled a little with excitement. He envied his son the experience of making a new were-pack.
Altea recognized the gravity of their plan. She knew how sympathe
tic Thal had been toward his enemy, the werewolf Rotfeng. And he had told her about the ill fate of poor Rainer back in Prague. The way that he had spoken about the other werewolves had left Altea with the impression that he longed for ones like himself to call companions.
Sarputeen continued, “Thal was reluctant to do this thing, but our struggle against Tekax requires that we strengthen ourselves with more werewolves.”
Altea understood better Thal’s wariness toward his father. He was a man who could ask much, and he was difficult to deny.
Sarputeen came around the desk. His former melancholy lifted off of him with each step. “Tell the servants to prepare for guests and then join me in the main hall,” he said.
“Yes, Sarpu,” she whispered, distracted by her whirling thoughts. She was eager to reunite with Thal and reeling from the prospect that he would soon be surrounded by a loyal cadre of werewolves. Their brief time of peace together had ended.
Chapter 12. The Language of Birds
After telling the servants to prepare for newcomers, Altea hurried to the outer wall. She clutched her cloak at her throat while a stiff wind yanked her hair. The snow allowed her to see the landscape in the night. A few villagers moved about with lanterns on their way to their suppers after tucking in livestock.
Beyond the little enclave of humanity, the evergreen forest concealed Thal and his party. His safe return relieved her, but questions about those in his company battered her mind. Had he already altered them? Why had he not told her what he intended to do?
Her connection to him was so natural that she resisted suspecting him of wanting to deceive her. She guessed that he likely had misgivings about this plan, but her sympathies could not entirely remove her sense of exclusion. Thal would have new companions, and she feared that he might not need her as much anymore.
“Stop,” she whispered, scolding herself for doubting Thal’s devotion. She resisted these foolish insecurities that were known to afflict young wives when they discover that their husbands have lives beyond the home.
When she saw a little animal rush toward the castle, her excitement shoved aside her worries. Pistol was the harbinger of her love. She leaned over the stone wall, eager to catch site of Thal. Even silhouetted by the snow, his form was unmistakable. His smooth gait showed no sign of fatigue, not even after hiking uphill all the way from Zilina.
The group that straggled after him showed clear signs of wear. She discerned few details about them.
Altea rushed toward the steps. She slipped on a bit of ice and caught herself against the wall. With greater care, she descended to the ground level. She found Sarputeen in his seat in the great hall, looking lordly. He had shaved and donned creamy white garments. His great white wolf fur covered his broad shoulders, and she remembered vividly the night when she had seen him shift. She would revere him always after witnessing that wonder.
The warm aura of his magic enveloped her as she approached. Sarputeen was like a sunny spring day and dark winter night all at once, and she wondered how she might find her place amid the vast possibilities of what he might teach her.
“Attend me, Daughter,” he said and gestured to his left. She loosened her cloak and took her place near his chair.
“I saw them coming. Emil will bring them straight here,” she said. Unbearable impatience to see Thal nibbled at her.
To pass the time, she said, “Sarpu, how shall you use these new werewolves against Tekax?”
“I’ve not worked out a precise strategy yet. I await Mileko’s report so I can better understand the defenses of Tekax. But, once Thal changes these men, they will be stronger and loyal. Each one will be as good as twenty of Tekax’s men when the full moon shines,” he explained.
She considered the answer, hating the thought that they must make war upon another sorcerer. But she remembered the attacks that Thal and she had endured on their journey from Prague. They could not live in peace until this threat was gone.
When she heard steps in the hall, Sarputeen leaned forward in his chair. His nostrils flared, and predatory excitement tensed his muscles.
Emil ushered in the newcomers. Thal was at their fore. His eyes went immediately to Altea, and her smile beamed with happiness. Whatever had transpired, his meeting with the Duke had not been a trap. Tonight, he would be at her side, and she would not lay awake fearing for his safety.
“Father, I am returned,” he said and strode forward.
Sarputeen stood and opened his arms to receive his son. He set his hands on Thal’s shoulders, and Sarputeen gave a small nod that indicated great approval for his son’s apparent success.
As father and son exchanged their greeting, Altea looked at the five people. They stood back, apprehensive and glancing at the shadows, as if ghosts would come to take their souls.
A woman! Altea thought, shocked upon spying Lenki. Even thin and bedraggled from a long trip, her fair features slapped Altea. Her choppy hair could not detract from her striking beauty. Jealousy barged in upon Altea’s warm feelings for Thal’s return. Would Thal be altering this one with his bite?
And if that woman was given the power of the wolf…
Altea did not know if she wanted to run from the room or rush forward and slap the wild creature that had followed Thal home.
When Thal touched Altea, she nearly jumped. He whispered a loving greeting and kissed her cheek. Altea wanted to shout questions at him, but the jolt of her offense had left her speechless.
“Let me introduce those who have come to join us,” he said and went back to the group. “Harvath,” he said. “He survived a year of servitude in a mine and my guess is that he can endure anything now. He is strong.” The hard-used man took a step forward. He bowed to Sarputeen.
“Johan,” Thal continued. “He’s a man of letters.”
Sarputeen nodded approvingly, glad to have gained one with a talent other than a strong back.
Johan brushed his lank blonde hair back from his face. He thought of many ingratiating things to say but chose to act silently as Harvath had. He bowed.
“Mitri,” Thal said. “His skills are opening locks and pick pocketing.”
The stout man bowed.
“Ansel,” Thal said. “He’s been trained in music and dance. He can write poetry.”
The athletic youth bowed to the Lord of Vlkbohveza.
“A poet?” Sarputeen commented.
Ansel wet his lips. “I don’t claim talent, only knowledge of the forms,” he said.
“Perhaps you shall write stories of your brave deeds,” Sarputeen said because he judged that the young man would make a tremendous werewolf.
Thal moved on. “Lenki,” he said. “She is…”
A killer, he thought. Aloud, he added, “willing to pursue justice.”
Sarputeen beckoned her closer.
She looked first to Thal, and he encouraged her to comply. Altea loathed their tiny exchange. Already the woman thought Thal her master.
Lenki’s sharp-edged spirit held Sarputeen’s attention for some time. Her wildness was close to the surface. He chose not to ask her a question.
Regarding his new servants, he said, “I am Sarputeen. What you have heard about me is true. I welcome you to my household. We shall achieve much together. For now, you are to eat well and take your rest.”
Emil collected the volunteers, and Altea watched them go.
Thal slipped an arm across her back. “What happened with the monks and the Duke’s men?” he asked.
Sarputeen answered, “I threw one off the cliff.”
“It was Brother Miguel,” Altea said. The memory of him tightened her throat. “I told the others that Miguel wished to stay here and study manuscripts and that he ordered them away.”
Thal lifted his eyebrows, amused by her deception. Turning to his father, he said, “You simply pushed him off a cliff?”
“No need to always tear people apart. It’s best to conserve strength at my age,” Sarputeen said.
Thal d
isliked the reminder about his father’s age.
“What do you think of them, Father?” Thal said, referring to their volunteers.
“I gather that Thurzo has sent us criminals?” Sarputeen said.
“His choice was not unwise. They are willing,” Thal explained.
Stroking his chin, the old man nodded. “I can see they need rest. We’ll attend to them with the next full moon.”
“Yes, Father,” Thal said. He glanced at Altea and determined that she knew what they were talking about. He regretted now not telling her what his father wished for him to do.
“I must rest too,” Sarputeen announced distractedly and walked away.
Although concerned about what might be bothering his father, Thal did not stop him. Altea took his hand and explained, “He secluded himself for days after he killed the monk. I’m not sure how much he slept or ate. I think he’s worried about Mileko too. He said he had expected him back by now.”
“I’m home now. I’ll do what I can to help tomorrow. Let us retire,” he said.
She leaned against him gratefully as they ascended the tower to their chamber. Her flash of jealousy upon seeing Lenki faded with his body next to hers, and she tried to push the foul feeling away. When they went to bed, the intensity of his affection scolded her for fearing the influence of another. His vital heat drove back the chill of their stone tower, and her kisses drank in the delicious elixir of his mouth. The scent of his hard body, mysterious as the mossy forest, perfumed her thoughts, and she did her utmost to pleasure him. He responded with equal vigor, and their coupling cleared their minds of concerns. They fell asleep in each other’s arms.
In the morning, Altea awakened to an empty bed, and she assumed that Thal had gone to be with those who would become like him. She sat up, and pressed the covers over her chest with folded arms. A fume of unhappiness wafted from her frown.
She shook her head to fling off her unfair suspicions. She had never been wont to such easy fits of insecurity, but that was before she had lost everything in her life. Now she believed that she had only Thal, which was precisely why she hated the possibility that he might drift away.