by Warhammer
'Did he arrive alone?' Alaric asked.
'No, he brought several men with him and had a sturdy wagon just outside. He needed it, too - the piece was taller than me and solid.' Now his frown deepened into a scowl. 'I thought the piece unfinished at fust, since it had no clear features, but as I looked I could make out more detail. They covered it with a cloth, to protect it, I suppose.'
Alaric had gone past puzzled and into worried. 'Do you know the man's name?' he asked, trying to shake the chill that had gripped him.
'I cannot remember it,' Rolfs son admitted, 'but I put the receipt there.' He pointed to the ledger his mother held, and she handed the book to him. He turned to the last page and pulled out a folded paper stuck between the binding and the endpapers. 'Here it is.' He handed the sheet to Alaric, who carefully unfolded it.
'One statue, part of a matched set of four,' he read softly. 'Commissioned by-' he paused, and then read it again. 'Wilfen von Glaucht.'
'Taal's teeth,' he muttered, and then glanced up at Rolfs son, who was watching him closely. 'When was this?'
'The next day, as I said,' the youth replied. 'Right at dawn, why?'
Alaric shook his head, turned to go, and then stopped. 'Can I keep this?' he asked, waving the receipt.
'If you like,' Rolfs widow told him. 'We've no need of it.'
'Thank you, and I am truly sorry for your loss,' Alaric told them. Then, clutching the casket under one arm, and still holding the receipt in his other hand, he headed for the door. He barely glanced about him as he walked.
Wilfen von Glaucht! That was the name used by the man who had commissioned the statues! And he had claimed the first one - really the fourth and final one -the day after they had seen it. The day after Rolf had been arrested. The same day they had spent locked in a jail cell.
That meant that one of the four statues had not yet been destroyed, and its creator, the man behind all this, had retrieved it even before he, Dietz and the others had left to find and destroy its counterparts.
All this time they had thought they had only three statues to find and dispatch. In fact they'd had four, and the fourth one was now loose somewhere in Middenheim, assuming it had not been carried beyond the city already. Wherever it was, it had been there for months while they traipsed around the Empire, probably drawing power the entire time.
He had to find Dietz.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dietz walked slowly through Middenheim's streets, in no hurry to be anywhere. The afternoon and evening had gone as well as could be expected.
He had called on Dracht first, thinking to get the worst part out of the way. His brother had been at the shop that had been their father's and it still looked the same: neat and tidy, and prosperous. Dracht himself looked much the same as well, though his hair was thinner and more grey than black, and his face was more lined - Dietz had pretended not to notice his older brother's right leg, which ended just above the knee. They had never been close and the visit was more a formality than anything else.
Next Dietz had gone to see Dagmar and their father, which was far more pleasant. They still lived in the small, tidy house his father had purchased when first starting the family. His father was blind, as he had been since Dietz had first reached manhood, and Dagmar cared for him - lovely, sweet Dagmar who could have had men waiting on her instead of the other way around. She had been thrilled to
see him, as she always was, and over dinner he had regaled them all with stories of his adventures. His father had listened and nodded. Dracht had clearly not cared, but Dagmar had hung on every word. Before Dietz left he begged her to come with him, as he always did, but she refused. It was Dracht's responsibility to care for their father, but he claimed his house was barely large enough for his own family, with no room for the old man, and Dagmar was too dutiful to leave their father alone. Dietz sent money when he could, but he wished there was more he could do.
As he pondered the problem Dietz noticed a man turning the corner a few blocks away, a large heavy-set fellow in a long cloak and a velvet cap. For an instant he wondered why it seemed so familiar and then his mind snapped from the past back to the present and he remembered.
'Fastred!' The man was already around the corner and Dietz ran to catch up. 'Fastred, wait! It's me, Dietz!'
As he barrelled down the street Dietz passed a large building with a worn wooden plaque on the door and realised it was the Middenheim office for the Guild of Explorers. He had come here once with Alaric and was surprised to see just how far his wanderings had taken him. Fastred had said earlier that he planned to enjoy the guild office's comforts - why then was he leaving?
Still running, Dietz reached the corner and skidded around it, catching a glimpse of the man up ahead. 'Fastred!' he called again, but the distance was too great. Even as he watched, the man pulled off his cap and tugged up a hood attached to the cloak, covering his head completely.
This was getting stranger and stranger, Dietz thought, slowing slightly. Why would Fastred be wearing a hood, unless he didn't want to be recognised?
Dietz was only two lengths behind the man and was certain it was Fastred Albers he pursued, but he did not call out again. Instead he slowed to extend the distance between them and caught his breath, calming his heart and forcing his footsteps to match the same beat. The more he watched, the stranger this seemed. Fastred was a wise man who valued his own skin, sometimes a little too much. What would he be doing out here at night, walking alone and hiding his face? If he had somewhere to go, why not go in the company of friends, or send someone else instead? The portly explorer was also something of a show-off and loved attracting attention, which made it even harder to imagine him skulking along in a hooded cloak. Something was not right.
Dietz followed Fastred, careful to keep his footsteps light and his shadow behind them or hidden within Fastred's own. They were in a residential district, not the nicest in the city, but certainly not the poorest. As he watched, Fastred crossed the street and walked right up to the front door of one of the buildings. It was a handsome house, built of rough stone bricks, but it was not large and like its neighbours it had seen better days. Fastred raised his hand to the front door, first glancing around and tugging his hood down farther, and Dietz shrank back against another building to avoid the explorer's notice. At last Fastred rapped on the door, three quick sharp knocks. After a moment it opened and he stepped inside.
'Definitely odd,' Dietz muttered to himself, staring at the closed door. Why would Fastred come here and take such trouble to conceal his identity? Could he be romantically involved and hiding the fact to protect the woman? Perhaps - Fastred had regaled them with tales of his romantic encounters during their trip and clearly the large man had more than one powerful appetite. But why do this in such sly fashion? The Fastred he knew would have marched boldly to the front door, loudly demanded entry, and then trumpeted his presence to anyone within hearing range and a great many without.
'Why else would he be skulking about?' Dietz asked himself, and suddenly an answer came to him, and with it, something else.
'I need Alaric,' he decided.
'There you are!'
Both men said it simultaneously as they entered the Dancing Frog's taproom and spotted each other in the light of the guttering torches. Alaric commandeered a small, rickety table off in one corner while Dietz ordered two ales from the barman and carried them over. They each drank half their tankard's contents in a single gulp, and both started talking at once.
'I found a-'
'I think that-'
'It looks like-'
'I just saw-'
They both laughed. Finally Dietz said. 'Right, go ahead.'
Alaric related the events of the day, from reporting to Struber to his visit to Rolfs former shop and the disquieting conversation he'd had with the stonemason's son and his widow. He talked as quietly as he could and still have Dietz hear him over the noise of the other patrons. Fortunately the other men were more intent on dr
inking, singing and fighting than eavesdropping, but he still thought it best to exercise some caution.
'It's supposed to have been destroyed,' he pointed out to Dietz, 'the statue. It was taken away instead.'
Taken away?'
Alaric nodded and pulled out the receipt, squinting to read it by the dim light from the torch mounted on the wall above them. 'By Wilfen von Glaucht, the same man who commissioned them.' He leaned forward. 'And this is convenient, he claimed it the morning after Rolfs arrest. The same morning we spent locked in that miserable jail cell.' He smiled, though the expression was more determined than pleased.
'He knew we were going,' Dietz pointed out, tapping the receipt. 'And knew exactly where and when, and took advantage of our imprisonment to hide the last statue somewhere safe.'
'Exactly.' Alaric banged his hand flat on the table, causing their ale mugs to jump. 'Sorry, but that means whoever it was knew our plans.'
Dietz's mind slid back to another man they had known, a short, slight man with narrow features and a deft quill; a man who would never ride with them or scold them or cook for them again.
'Renke was killed by a knife in the back,' he reminded Alaric, which sobered them both immediately. "Who's to say it is not the same man?'
'It could be,' Alaric agreed. He stroked his chin. 'Each of our companions arrived here that night or the next morning. Their respective superiors sent them to keep an eye on us. That means their superiors had either been in the courtroom or had heard the results. How much else did they hear? Were they really all sent, or did someone claim that to blend in with everyone else? If he knew we had found the first statue, and had moved it to safety, he might want to keep an eye on us and hopefully prevent us from destroying the other three. Plus it gave this one a chance to receive sacrifices, and power.'
Dietz pushed that image away. 'So one of our friends, the same ones who mourned Renke not long ago, may be not only Renke's killer but the statues' creator?'
'Could be.'
That was when Dietz told the story of his own recent encounter. He was also careful to pitch his voice so only Alaric could hear him. 'Fastred was definitely acting suspicious,' he finished. 'I wonder why. What could he be doing that's so secretive he needs to sneak into it rather than marching in openly? What could be in that house that's worth making such a dangerous trek so late at night?'
'Something the witch hunters would kill for,' Alaric replied, thinking. Finally he drained his ale cup and stood. 'I think we should pay a visit to this house you found. Let's ask Fastred, or whoever answers the door, what they are doing up so very late, especially when there's a military curfew.'
'You think he'll answer?' Dietz asked, standing as well and lengthening his stride to keep up with Alaric, who had navigated past several other patrons and was already at the inn's front door.
'He might,' Alaric answered. 'He might feel it's too late for anyone to stop him. Or he might have an overwhelming urge to tell someone, anyone, what he's done.' He grinned at Dietz. 'Much as you said to me some time back
- I'd wind up lecturing about anything before too long, just because I hate the quiet.'
'He'd be a fool to admit to anything,' Dietz said quietly, quiet enough that only he and Alaric heard it, 'but that doesn't mean he won't.'
The street was silent and empty when Dietz finally led Alaric to the correct row - houses, he'd discovered on the way here, look a lot more alike in the dark, but at last they were standing across from the door Fastred had entered.
'That's it,' he confirmed. 'I remember this stone on this building here, the one shaped like a foot.' They both glanced up at the house beside them, at the footprint-like stone nestled among the other stones of the wall. 'I watched from here as he walked up - crept up, more like
- and knocked. Then the door opened and he stepped inside.'
'Shall we?' Alaric asked with a bow, and once again Dietz followed his employer as they crossed the street and walked right up to the battered wooden door.
Alaric raised his hand to knock, but Dietz caught it before his knuckles made contact with the wood. 'Listen,' he hissed, and they both froze.
Someone inside the house was awake. Not just awake, but shouting. They heard arguing, though they could not make out the words through the heavy stone and thick wood.
'Trouble among thieves?' Alaric suggested lightly, one hand coming to rest on his rapier hilt. Dietz nodded, drawing a long knife with one hand while the other tugged open his jacket. Glouste took the hint and leaped inside.
'What now?' Dietz asked his employer after his pet was safely stowed. 'Fetch the city guards? Summon the witch hunters?'
Alaric frowned. 'The guard will take too long/ he pointed out, 'and the witch hunters will arrest us along with who-ever's within. Besides, we've no certainty one or both are not involved already. No, let's confront whoever's inside ourselves and see what we shall see. We can send for help later if necessary.' He tried the door, but shook his head. 'Locked.' Then he stepped aside and gestured towards it with a mocking bow. 'Will you do the honours?'
Dietz growled at him and stepped forward, knife in hand. The door was solid and the lock secure, but his brothers had taught him many tricks over the years and entering without a key had been one of them. Inserting the knife's tip into the keyhole, Dietz felt around, feeling the tumblers pressing against his blade. When he was sure the knife was in position he jiggled it slightly, feeling as much as hearing the faint click of the tumblers falling into place. Withdrawing the knife he turned the knob and pushed gently. Despite its battered exterior the door was well-oiled and it slid open without a sound, revealing a short entry-way with a polished stone floor and handsome candle sconces on either side.
The voices had not stopped, and with the door open Dietz and Alaric could hear them clearly. They listened as they picked their way past the swaying door and into the polished entryway, towards another door that stood partly ajar.
'-won't let you do this!'
'You can't stop me!'
'Oh, I can and I will!'
'How? Run to the guards? Summon Kleiber? They'll turn on you as well!'
'I don't care. As long as you're done for that's enough!'
Dietz wanted to wait and listen, but Alaric charged forwards as usual, shoving the door wide and drawing his rapier as he strode into a room.
'Hello/ he called out merrily. 'Is it a party?'
Dietz, glancing over his friend's shoulder, froze, the knife still in his hand. The door had opened onto a large room whose stone walls had been panelled in polished wood, creating a cosy space around the fire that burned merrily in the large fireplace against the side wall. Several large, comfortable-looking chairs sat here and there, though from their positions he guessed they'd been arrayed around the fire and had since been shoved aside to create the empty space near the centre of the room. He spied a crystal decanter and several glasses on a writing desk off to one side. All in all it was a handsome room and far nicer than the exterior had suggested.
Fastred stood in the room, his hood thrown back. Kristoff was there as well, and the lack of a cloak, cape or jacket suggested that this was his residence. Both men stared at them for an instant, and then returned to glaring at one another across the room.
'Let's talk about this,' Dietz urged quietly, stepping around Alaric and sheathing his knife as he did so. He held both hands up, palms out, to show he was unarmed. 'We can discuss it.'
All the while he was careful to stay back behind the furthest chair, well beyond the reach of his two friends, and, more importantly, beyond the range of the swords they were pointing at one another.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
'He's the one!' Fastred shouted, keeping his eyes on Kristoff and his short sword - once Renke's short sword -raised. 'He commissioned those statues!'
'It's not true!' Kristoff protested, glancing at Dietz and Alaric for an instant before returning his focus to the man and blade before him. 'I wouldn't do something like that! You kn
ow I wouldn't!'
'Liar!' Fastred shouted, swinging wildly. Kristoff blocked the attack easily and lashed out in return, causing the larger man to leap back out of the way.
'Hey!' Dietz said. 'Let's put the swords down, all right?' Neither man appeared inclined to listen, however.
'Fastred,' Alaric said calmly. 'Dietz tells me he followed you here earlier. What were you doing here?' His rapier was still drawn, though now he had his sword arm draped casually over a chair, the blade dangling idly from his hand.
'I came to see Kristoff,' Fastred said, frowning, his sword point wavering slightly. 'I knew he was up to something
and I begged him to stop whatever it was. He wouldn't listen.'
'Lies,' Kristoff countered, his own sword still weaving like a drunken man, drawing Fastred's eyes. 'He came here to threaten me!'
'Why would he threaten you?' Alaric asked, and Dietz had to admire his calm. He sounded as if they were sitting and discussing something over dinner, not watching two of their friends face each other over drawn blades.
'He's the one behind all this,' Kristoff replied. 'He used me to arrange transportation for the statues. I had no idea what they were, of course, but he had certain... information on me. I couldn't refuse. When we returned I told him I'd have no part in it any more, not now I knew the statues' true purpose. He threatened me, said he'd kill me if I said anything.'
'That's not true!' Fastred yelled, sword shaking with his anger. 'He's twisting everything. I didn't use him - he used me!'
'Who hired the wagons?' Alaric asked softly, watching both men.
'I did,' Kristoff admitted. 'I have access to all the necessary documents through my employers. That's why Fastred wanted - demanded - my help.'
The explorer shook his head. 'I didn't need anything because I didn't do anything!' He jabbed his blade at Kristoff. 'He came to me, asking for aid in selecting locations. Said his employers wanted to establish trading posts at the corners of the Empire. Asked for suggestions, spots on the map, both the actual compass points and the nearest accessible areas.'