MUNDSEN KEEP. IT squatted on the outskirts of the city, beyond the main city wall, like a shunned and unwanted exile. Vido had been there before with Konniger, but never relished the prospect of another visit to the place. As a one-time expert thief and cutpurse, the twin spectres of Mundsen Keep and the public gallows in the Kaiserplatz had loomed large in Vido's life for many years, and it was still difficult for him to shake off his instinctive fear of the place.
The Keep was everything every thief in Altdorf always thought it was. Dark, dank, riddled with disease and vermin, its stone hallways echoing with the sounds of human misery. The lowest levels, where special category prisoners like the Reikerbahn Butcher were kept, was the worst of all. Mundsen Keep was originally built on the remains of a drained marsh, a fact that became readily apparent once you descended into its warren of underground cells and passages.
The walls there were streaked with thick layers of slime, moss and lichen, some of them weirdly phosphorescent. Some of the passages were flooded with almost a foot of fetid water, and rats swam frantically about the feet of the visitors as they waded though it. Water dripped from the ceiling down onto their heads, splashing onto the hoods of their cloaks, hissing when it met the guttering flame of the torch carried by Luntz. Vido thought things couldn't get any more unpleasant, but he was wrong.
It wasn't water dripping from the walls and ceiling of the scarlet cell. It was blood.
The door had been sealed with holy blessing scrolls and stern warnings marked with the brand of the Imperial witch hunters. All these Konniger had ripped aside with casual disregard, gesturing for Luntz to open the door's heavy iron lock. The gaoler had unwillingly shuffled forward, fumbling with the thick band of keys he wore attached to his belt, nervously fumbling even more as he found the correct key and slid it into the rusted lock. He had muttered the half-remembered, mispronounced words of a Sigmarite prayer of protection as he opened the lock. He had pushed the iron-reinforced door open and stepped aside sharply, holding a filthy rag over his mouth and nose, as if even breathing in the air of the room beyond was enough to infect him with some Chaos-inspired contaminant.
Konniger picked up a damp torch from the metal sconce beside the door, lit it from the torch carried by Luntz and entered the cell. The gaoler remained standing in the doorway, afraid to even cross the threshold of the place.
The air inside the cell was cold, unnaturally and bitterly so. There was something else in the air too, some invisible taint that pervaded through everything in the chamber. Vido drew his cloak around himself while suppressing an involuntary shudder, and followed his master into the room.
Blood dripped from the ceiling. Blood, still wet, coated the walls and floors. Konniger dabbed a finger in it and cautiously sniffed at it.
'Human,' he surmised. 'Make a note of that, Vido. Even in this dank climate, two months after the event, it should have long ago congealed and dried up. Definite sign of extra-natural activity, wouldn't you agree?'
Vido did as directed, scribbling in crabbed shorthand, trying to ignore the sensation of the droplets of blood splashing down upon his head. He felt a warm wetness on his upper lip, and touched his fingers to it in surprise. They came away smeared with red. His nose was bleeding.
'That happens to lots of people who go in there,' confirmed Luntz, calling out from the doorway. 'Unnatural, that's what it is. Daemon-work, that's what it is.'
'Yes, definite signs of extra-natural activity,' confirmed Konniger, dispassionately regarding his manservant's nosebleed. 'Luntz, tell me again what happened here.'
'It was the night before that Butcher maniac's execution. Usually, they make a lot of noise when they start to think about what's going to happen to them at sunrise, when the witch hunters come and drag 'em out of their cells. You'd be amazed, Herr Konniger, at how many of them heretics have a change of heart when they know that big bonfire's waiting there for them in the morning. Not this one, though. We didn't hear so much as a peep out of him until well into the second watch of the night.'
'And then what happened?'
'Screaming, that was what we heard. Not your ordinary screaming, neither. Horrible, it was, like he was already at the stake, with the flames already getting a taste of him. Gave the whole place a shot of the terrors, so it did. There was screaming and moaning coming from half the cells in the Keep. By the time we found out where it had started, we was already too late.'
'And what did you find?'
Luntz gestured helplessly at the red, dripping material that still coated the stone surfaces of the room. 'Just what you see here, sir. That maniac, he was gone, slipped right out his chains, and all we found was this stuff. Daemon-work, that's wh—'
'So, the Butcher, he escaped after all?' asked Vido, confused.
'In a sense, Vido,' answered Konniger. 'He called to one of the Ruinous Powers, and his patron lord must have responded. Part of him escaped, but part of him still remains here.'
Konniger registered his manservant's further look of confusion, and held out a hand to catch some of the falling droplets of blood. 'This is all that remains of the physical form of the Reikerbahn Butcher.'
'So where's the rest of him?' Vido asked, not really sure he wanted to hear the answer.
'Isn't is obvious?' asked Konniger, matter-of-factly. 'His daemon-changed spirit has escaped back into the city and is now busy building itself a new body from the flesh, blood and souls of dead magic-users.'
THEY WERE IN the coach now, travelling back to the city. Mundsen Keep was an ugly memory behind them, darkly silhouetted against the setting sun. Ahead of them was the city, bright with light as the Imperial capital settled in for the night. The markets would be packing up, the farmers making for home before the city gates were closed for the night. The street-girls would be applying their rouge and kohl before going out to ply their trade. In the Reikerbahn, the footpads and cutpurses would be gathering in readiness for their night's activities, and in their precinct houses the watchmen patrols would be teaming up in increased numbers to stop them.
And somewhere there in the city too, according to Konniger, an inhuman killer was also planning its own night's business.
'So what do you make of all this?' asked Konniger, eventually.
'I think the same as you, master. I think our Herr von Hassen has been lying to us. I think he knows more than he's telling about what went on back there in the Keep, and that line he gave us about wanting to catch this sorcerer-slayer because he wants to protect the city is just so much stale ale-slop.'
'Agreed,' nodded Konniger. 'Tell me, Vido, what do you know about the ways of the Ruinous Powers?'
'As little as possible,' answered Vido, truthfully. 'I dare say I've picked up a thing or two since I've been in your service, and maybe some people might judge that I've seen more of such things than is good for me, but as often as not I try my best to forget about as much of it as I can.'
Konniger nodded again. 'A wise policy. But the Ruinous Powers must be confronted, and, to confront and defeat them, there must be those willing to learn all that can be known of their hidden secrets.'
Vido kept silent, knowing that it was just such unorthodox thinking that had finally forced his master to break away from his former brethren of the Church of Sigmar.
'Most people believe these Powers to be a single unified threat opposed to all that is good and sane in this world. There is nothing wrong with such a view in most circumstances, but it conceals the real, more complex truth. The Powers of Chaos are not united as one, Vido, and it is perhaps this sole fact that has prevented them from long ago destroying us all. The gods of Chaos wage war on each other or make alliances among themselves as suits their whim, although each is opposed by another one who is always their most implacable enemy. Their servants mindlessly follow their gods' commands, continuing these battles here in the real world, sometimes even in places like Altdorf itself.'
'That's what's happening here, isn't it?' exclaimed Vido, picking up on the
hints his master was giving him. 'The Reikerbahn Butcher, he was serving one of those Chaos gods, wasn't he?'
Konniger nodded again. 'The stories of his atrocities and what we saw tonight in the scarlet cell leave me in no doubt that the Butcher was a follower of the force known as the Blood God, who is perhaps the most terrible and infamous of the Lords of Chaos.'
Vido's mind raced to keep up with his master's train of thought. 'You said each of the Chaos gods had another one that was always their enemy? Who's the enemy of this Blood God?'
'The force known as the Lord of Pleasure, whose followers commit the most foul kind of debaucheries, and whose name I will not speak aloud.'
Konniger lapsed into silence for a moment, and then continued.
'So consider all we have learned, Vido. Who is the most likely enemy of the thing we are now hunting?'
Vido's answer was immediate. 'Von Hassen.'
Konniger smiled in approval. 'Yes, von Hassen. It was he who was responsible for the Butcher's capture, and it's he who seems most anxious for us to capture this new killer whom he pretends not to know is the Reikerbahn Butcher reborn in a new and more powerful daemonic form.'
They were passing through the city gates now. The guardsmen on duty there waved the coach through without a second thought, as soon as they saw who was inside.
'What does the thing that was created in the scarlet cell want, Vido? Why does von Hassen really want it found, and why must he depend on us to do the task for him? If he is what we now suspect he is, then why cannot he and the others of his ''Vigilance Committee'' accomplish it on their own? Work out the answers to these questions, Vido, and you will have solved the riddle of the mystery of the scarlet cell.'
Konniger rapped twice on the roof of the cab and then leaned out the window to shout instructions to the coachman. 'Straight on at the Weiser Kirkus, and then take the western riverside road until I give you other instructions.'
Vido looked at him in surprise. 'We're not going home, then?'
'Not yet, Vido. Events are moving fast now, and we have to move with equal speed to keep up with them. We came into this situation late, too late to save the lives of those that have died already. Too late, perhaps, to now stop events coming to their natural conclusion.'
Vido glanced out the window, taking note of the route they were taking. 'We're going to the Reikhoch?' he asked.
'That's where von Hassen lives. I think it's time we paid our client an unexpected visit. I imagine he might be surprised by how much we've discovered in so short a time.'
THE KILLER CONCENTRATED, focusing all its new-found power to effect the start of the Blood Change. From blood it had come, reborn in that terrible night in its cell deep beneath Mundsen Keep, and to blood it could return, when need be. The voice of the daemon-thing that Lord Khorne had soul-bonded it to rasped in the back of its mind, threatening and cajoling it, telling it what to do with its new Blood Lord-given abilities.
It was getting better at the metamorphosis. The spell-lore it had consumed from within the minds of the three sorcerers had helped it master the intricacies of the change, while the fortune-teller's stolen farsight allowed it to better find the safest routes through to its destination. Lord Khorne hated all magic and all those who practised it, and the killer took only what it needed from its victims, consuming their sorcerous power and using it to kill Lord Khorne's enemies.
It concentrated again, and the Blood Change began. Its physical form bled away into the flagstones of the floor. Down it seeped, through rock and soil, until it reached the stinking sewer-ways beneath the city. It passed along those dark, airless tunnels as a hazy, blood-red mist. This was how it had infiltrated the places where it had found its other victims. At first, it had taken all the killer's willpower and energy to maintain this new form. It had barely been able to kill its first victim, the weak old holy man, and the effort had almost exhausted it to beyond the point of return. It had taken weeks for it to recover, to learn how to add the holy man's blood and power to itself, but, after that, the next one had been far easier. The one after that, easier still. The killer exulted at its new-found abilities, at the gift of the Blood Change that had been granted to it by the Master of the Skull Throne.
It flowed through the darkness, sensing the presence of its new prey in the city built on top of these ancient, crumbling waterways. With the power it had taken from the fortune-teller, it could find them, but they could not find or sense it.
Eagerly, the blood stuff of its new form churning in excitement, the killer rushed on towards the lair of its chosen victims.
KONNIGER AND VIDO stayed well back in the shadows, following their erstwhile employer and his companion through the back ways of the low-rent mercantile and warehouse district to the east of the wealthy Reikhoch district. It was just across the river from the far bawdier and busier Reikerbahn, and some of that district's dismal seediness had spilled across the waters of the Reik to take root here. It was a strange place to find a man like Gustav von Hassen wandering about after the close of business hours. Vido guessed the merchant would probably have property or business interests in the area, but he couldn't imagine that a man of von Hassen's wealth and position would ever actually visit such a place.
Stranger still was the fact that von Hassen and his companion were apparently walking the streets in disguise. Konniger and Vido had arrived at the merchant's richly-appointed mansion just in time to see the two men leaving the place by a side entrance, dressed in clothes far less grand than the ones they had been wearing earlier that day. The sage-detective and his manservant had retreated into the shrubbery of one of von Hassen's neighbours' gardens and watched as the two figures hurried past. Then, with a silent look of agreement, they had set off in pursuit of their quarry.
Vido had followed enough marks through the streets of Altdorf in his time to recognise all the signs of someone on their way to something or someplace that they didn't want anyone else to know about.
Von Hassen hurried through the city streets, taking a route that took them away from the busiest thoroughfares. They could have used the merchant's own coach or hailed down any passing coachman-for-hire, but, clearly, they didn't want any third party to know where they were going. Konniger and Vido followed at a distance, observing them.
They had already recognised the merchant's companion as being Sigmund, von Hassen's supposed nephew. The mysterious Sigmund might have been silent when they met him that morning, but he seemed to be doing more than his fair share of all the talking now. The two men were arguing together, that much was clear. The strange thing was, it was Sigmund who was doing all the complaining, and setting the pace of their hurried walk. Von Hassen had trouble keeping up, and his gestures and body language were strangely subservient and weakly conciliatory as he received the angry beratings of the younger man. Konniger and Vido were too far away to hear any details of the argument. Had they been close enough to eavesdrop, they would have found the conversation enlightening indeed.
'FOOL!' HISSED THE thing that called itself Sigmund. 'I told you not to bring that sage-meddler into our affairs. He suspects us already. You brought him in to find the Khornate, but what is to stop him uncovering the truth about us instead?'
'He suspects us? You know this for a fact?' bleated von Hassen. 'I thought you said his mind was closed to you when you tried to see into his thoughts in the coach this morning?'
'It was. It does not need magic to accomplish such a trick. There are ways a strong-willed human with knowledge of such things can use to mask their thoughts, and to push any further would have risked revealing myself to him. He is clever, this Zavant Konniger. Perhaps too clever, and now far too dangerous to us.'
'The Pleasure Lord will guide us. We will join the others in the temple. Everything has been prepared for our arrival. We will commune with the Prince of Pleasure, and Lord Slaa—'
Von Hassen was cut off by an enraged hiss of warning from his companion. 'Do not speak that name here, in these stree
ts. Only within the sin-consecrated walls of the temple can that blessed name be permitted to be spoken aloud. But, yes, in this much you are right. We will pay honour to the Pleasure Lord, and He will grant us the power to deal with the Khornate savage and this sage interloper, so that we may carry on His great work here.'
The thing that called itself Sigmund broke off, abruptly turning round to scan the empty street behind them. Its eyes narrowed in suspicion, although there was nothing there to be seen. Imprisoned inside this pathetic human shell, its daemon-senses had become weak and dulled, reduced to a mere fraction of everything they should be. Its daemon mind had perhaps sensed something, but its human eyes saw nothing.
It stared for a second longer at the empty street before turning again and hurrying on.
VIDO PEERED CAUTIOUSLY out from the darkness of the shadow-filled doorway that Konniger had pushed them both into a second before the merchant's nephew had turned round so suddenly. With his better-than-human halfling's eyes, Vido could just see the faint dull glow in Konniger's own eyes. That glow was a side-effect of some of the strange and unnatural substances he knew his master occasionally imbibed in the privacy of his study. Vido didn't know what effect these things had on Konniger's soul and sanity, but they sometimes seemed to give the sage an uncanny sense of prescience in moments of danger. Moments like this, for example, when their quarry had almost realised they were being followed.
Vido checked again, seeing their quarry moving off again down the street. He gave his master the all-clear signal and the two of them continued the pursuit, arriving at the cover of the next street corner just in time to see the merchant and his companion arrive at their destination.
It was a nondescript warehouse building, little different from the dozen or so other places that lined this long and deserted stretch of the street. Von Hassen rapped on a side-door in a careful arrangement of coded knocks, simultaneously hissing a few words low under his breath. A moment later, a barred viewing hatch slid open. An unseen watcher inside peered out to confirm the new arrivals' identity. Another few moments later, there was the sound of a lock being opened and a wooden bar being hauled aside, and the door was pulled open. The figures of von Hassen and Sigmund slipped inside and the door was locked and firmly secured behind them.
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