by Nathan Long
‘What about dice?’ asked Hennig. ‘Didn’t you tell me you once made your living at the tables?’
‘One needs a stake to enter a game,’ said Reiner defensively. He didn’t care to mention that he’d lost his taste for gaming during the hurried retreat from Kirstaad, when he’d also lost his ‘special’ dice.
There was a commotion across the street. Reiner and Hennig looked up. An Empire foot patrol had stopped three carts crowded with prostrate forms—sick soldiers by their moans and shivers. The drivers didn’t look much better than their passengers, slack jawed, rheumy-eyed fellows. The only member of the party who seemed at all alert was a woman on the lead cart. She was a slim waif in the robes of a Sister of Shallya, goddess of mercy and healing.
The captain of the patrol was Deiter Ulstaadt, a pompous fool whom Reiner knew well. He was an ‘unbribable’ who had broken up some of Reiner’s recent money-making schemes: the card parlour in the powder magazine, the conscript prize fights, the sale in charms for protection against Chaos. Reiner leaned forward to listen.
‘It is out of the question,’ Deiter was saying. ‘You’ll have to take them elsewhere.’
‘But, my lord,’ said the priestess, ‘they can go no further. They are very ill.’
‘Precisely the point, sister,’ said Deiter. ‘With the town so full and our hospitals overflowing, disease spreads like wildfire. We need no more fuel for the blaze.’
The sister looked about to weep. Reiner’s heart went out to her. The poor thing seemed crushed by her responsibilities.
‘Sir knight,’ she said, ‘will you truly turn away noble heroes of the Empire, struck down in the fight of Chaos?’
‘I have my orders, miss.’
‘Could you not relax them for pity’s sake? Our convent was not wealthy, but in the wake of its burning, I have been entrusted with its treasury. I know the lot of a soldier far from home is a hard one…’ She moved the skirts of her habit aside to reveal a silver chased casket under her seat.
Deiter held up a hand, his face reddening. ‘In light of your desperation, sister, I will forget this if you turn about now and leave here peaceably.’
The priestess of Shallya hung her head, and Reiner thought he saw a not very Shallyan snarl twitch her lips as she motioned her drivers to turn the carts around. Deiter marched away with his squad, no doubt to find some poor innocent to harass.
Reiner sat up, mashed toes forgotten. ‘Hennig, my lad,’ he said. ‘If that wasn’t the hand of Ranald dropping golden opportunity in our laps, I’m a ratman.’
‘You mean to steal that box of swag?’
‘Don’t be crude. Of course not. She’s going to give it to us.’
Reiner and Hennig stepped into the crowded street where the priestess’s caravan of casualties was still manoeuvring.
‘Reverend sister,’ called Reiner. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing your poor treatment at the hands of that oaf, and I think I may have a solution that could benefit us both.’
The priestess, who was quite attractive, in a pale, drawn sort of way, looked nervously over her shoulder. ‘I have no wish to break the law, my lord.’
‘Oh, pish,’ said Reiner smoothly. ‘Is it a just law that turns out the sick? If you can pay a little for rent, and… ah, the efforts of your humble servant, the law won’t enter into it.’
The woman sighed, relieved. ‘The blessings of Shallya upon you, my lord.’
A warm glow filled Reiner’s heart. ‘My thanks, sister. Wait but a moment, and I will arrange all.’
‘ABSOLUTE NO!’ SAID Madam Tolshnaya, crossing her arms over her ample chest. ‘This clean house. I want no sickness here. Bad for business.’
‘But madam,’ said Reiner, ‘there is no need to put them in the house. Are not your stables vacant? Kuryev and his Eagles certainly don’t need them anymore.’
‘You speak so of the dead?’
‘I meant no disrespect. The tale of their valiant sacrifice will be sung in the halls of the boyars for generations, but they have left a vacancy, have they not?’
‘Not for sick peoples.’
‘Madam.’ Reiner lowered his voice conspiratorially. ‘The sister carries the treasury of her convent with her. You could charge her double, perhaps triple.’
Madam Tolshnaya’s eyes narrowed. ‘Triple?’
‘And I would ask only a fifth, for bringing the business your way.’
‘Only a fifth,’ said Madam Tolshnaya dryly. But Reiner could see her calculating. At last she nodded. ‘Yes. Is good. Bring around back, so nobody see. And they no come in house, ever!’
‘Of course not, madam,’ said Reiner, bowing. ‘You won’t regret this.’
He strode back to the street, grinning. Money at last!
IT WASN’T EASY money. The invalids were more diseased than Reiner could have imagined. In fact, he had a hard time believing men so ill could still be alive. Most were carried into the stables on planks, and even those who could walk shambled like sleepwalkers and were covered in purple pustules. One little fellow, a Kislevite with long moustaches and an enormous hat of snow leopard fur decorated with a gold and red cockade, had an open wound in his arm that crawled with maggots. They were laid down one to a stall on either side of the stable’s central aisle.
Reiner stood well upwind of them as he accepted from the priestess, who introduced herself as Sister Anyaka, a small purse of reikmarks and jewels. He palmed it quickly. It wouldn’t do to let Madam Tolshnaya see the transaction. Not when she had already paid him.
THAT NIGHT, AT one of Vulsk’s better taverns—which meant only that the floor was stone and not dirt, and that they burned wood and not yak dung in the fireplace—Reiner and Hennig toasted their good fortune with mugs of samogon bought with the sister’s gold.
‘It gives one a warm feeling, Hennig, doing good,’ said Reiner.
‘Absholutely,’ said Hennig, well on his way to inebriation. ‘Burns all the way down.’
Reiner wiped his mouth. ‘There’s nothing more gratifying than charity. Particularly when it pays so well.’
‘Poor li’l sister,’ said Hennig. ‘Tendin’ all those sickies. How does she stand the shmell?’
‘That’s what religion is for, lad.’
‘It takes away the shmell?’
‘No. Just makes you feel noble for bearing it. To your health.’
‘And to yers.’
THE NEXT MORNING, with heads that felt full of burning rocks, Reiner and Hennig returned to Madam Tolshnaya’s to see if there was anymore milking to be done. By Reiner’s estimation, the jewelled casket Sister Anyaka was carrying was still two-thirds full. But as the two friends walked around the brothel to the stables, Madam Tolshnaya stormed out to intercept them.
‘She not keep them in stables!’ she cried.
Reiner clutched his aching head. ‘Say again, madam? Quietly, if you please.’
‘The sick men. They walk around in middle of night. Scare my girls.’
‘Ridiculous,’ said Reiner. ‘Those lads can barely crawl.’
‘Svetya say she see sick man limp out back gate.’
‘Most likely a drunk soldier,’ said Hennig. ‘Off to make yellow snow.’
‘You’re jumping at shadows,’ added Reiner.
‘Well,’ said the madam sulkily, ‘you tell shadows I want more money.’
They left her and knocked on the stable door. After a moment the sister opened it.
Reiner bowed. ‘Good morning, sister. I trust the accommodations are adequate?’
‘Most satisfactory, my lord.’
‘I am gratified to hear it. We came to ask if there was anything else you required.’
The priestess frowned. ‘Er, there are two things, but I hesitate to ask. One is less than pleasant.’
‘We are yours to command,’ said Reiner.
The woman bit her lip. ‘Well, the first thing is easy enough.’ She pulled a piece of parchment from her robe. ‘Only take this to a wise woman and purchase these
medicines. It is the second that may tax you. One of my patients is beyond my abilities to cure. He has a problem of the liver and needs the care of a surgeon. If you could get him to the infirmary of your camp, all would be well. The trouble is that he is a Kislevite.’
Reiner sucked air through his teeth. ‘Mmm, yes. That is difficult. The doctors are a bit strict about who they let in. I’d have to ask a few people to look the other way, which might require further applications of cash.’
‘Oh, certainly,’ said the priestess. She opened the purse at her belt and pulled out a handful of coins, rings and brooches. ‘Will this be enough?’
Reiner elbowed Hennig in the ribs, for the lad was gaping. ‘Oh yes, this should do,’ he said nonchalantly.
HALF AN HOUR later, Reiner and Hennig were laughing and slapping one another on the back as they rode from the Empire camp on the cart with which they had delivered the sick man to the infirmary.
‘A bit difficult, he says,’ giggled Hennig. ‘It was all I could do to keep a straight face.’
‘Well you did, lad. There’s more to be had from that fountain. We wouldn’t want to spoil things. The girl’s the easiest mark I’ve ever laid eyes upon.’
It had cost Reiner and Hennig exactly four silver pfennigs to purchase a uniform of the Talabheim Pike from a black marketeer, and while dressing the sick man in it and shaving his Kislevite moustaches had been less than pleasant experiences—he smelled awful and complained constantly that he was infested with daemons—the effort was worth it, for the rest had been easy. They had delivered him to the infirmary, left him and a description of his symptoms with an orderly, and rode away again with no questions asked and the golden contents of Reiner’s purse untouched.
‘Now,’ said Reiner cheerily, ‘let’s go get the shopping done, and retire to Madam Tolshnaya’s for a much-deserved reward.’
But the second task proved more difficult. Even finding a wise woman was a chore. The villagers they asked wouldn’t even admit that the town had a wise woman, insisting that they were modern people just like their Empire neighbours.
Reiner was confused by this attitude, attributing it first to anxiety over being thought inferior, but the words weren’t said defensively, but with a sullen furtiveness. At last Reiner realised that the townsfolk were afraid he was a Sigmarite witch finder, looking to hang their local dispenser of love charms for witchcraft.
The response changed instantly when he asked instead, in the hesitant and embarrassed voice of a schoolboy, if there was someone who sold talismans for protection against lover’s pox. Then he was told, with smirks and elbow nudges, to go see old Mother Yagna. She would put everything right.
Reiner and Hennig found the wise woman in a thatch-roofed shack outside a small fishing village just a few leagues down the river road. She was a short, frog-faced old crone in colourful rags who scuttled between towering jar-lined shelves, a clay stove and her mortar and pestle with the activity of a spider. She was less suspicious than the villagers. It was obvious she was used to soldiers seeking her out for protections against hangovers, pox and unfriendly arrows, but her demeanour changed abruptly when she glanced at Anyaka’s list.
She looked up at them sharply. ‘You be murder somebody?’
‘I beg your pardon?’ said Reiner.
She waved a gnarled hand at the paper. ‘These very dangerous. Make you sick. This one poison. This one…’ She hesitated. ‘Bad magic.’
‘Ridiculous,’ said Reiner. ‘These were ordered by a Sister of Shallya, sworn to preserve life, not take it.’
The wise woman grunted. ‘Huh. She got rats, this sister?’
‘Undoubtedly. She’s staying in a stables. Would this kill rats?’
The crone chuckled. ‘Oh sure. Plenty rats.’ But she made no move toward her jars and bottles, only continued looking at Anyaka’s list.
‘I don’t mean to rush you, woman,’ said Reiner impatiently. ‘But we have many things to do today.’
Mother Yagna pursed her lips and held out the list. ‘Am sorry. I have not these things. I cannot help you.’
‘Foolish old crone,’ said Reiner, losing patience. ‘Do you dare defy me?’
Reiner loomed over the woman menacingly. She smelled of turnips and bitter herbs. ‘Listen, witch. You exist here at the mercy of the Empire, which has so far turned a blind eye to your heathen hedge magics. But it could just as easily go hard on you if you were accused of consorting with daemons, if someone were to say you’d been kissing the enemy’s fundament by the light of the full moon. Do you understand me?’
Mother Yagna met his eye with an unblinking glare. She said nothing.
‘Now, I am a fair man,’ Reiner continued, ‘I care not what two pfennig wart charms you fob off on ignorant peasants. I only want what I know you have, and I am willing to pay for it. Look!’ He shook his purse. It jingled impressively. ‘I will give you ten times what your leaves and twigs are worth. Only fill the order and let me be on my way.’
The old woman’s expression hardened to stone. She turned without a word and began filling packets of dry leaves with powders and herbs. By the time she had finished, a hard knot of remorse had formed in Reiner’s chest. He had no compunctions about getting what he wanted through guile, but intimidation of the weak wasn’t his way. It had no finesse. Consequently, when he dipped into his purse to pay her, he took out more than he intended, letting fall on her table a handful of coins and jewels.
‘Here, mother,’ he said. ‘May this soothe your pride.’
The old woman sneered. ‘I no want your…’ She stopped, staring. With trembling hands she picked up a ring. ‘Where you get this?’ she demanded.
‘Curse your insolence,’ snarled Reiner. ‘Why should I…’
‘Graverobber!’ The old woman advanced on Reiner, eyes wild. ‘This ring of boyar of village. Give him by Queen Katarin herself. He die fighting at Praag. You dig him up! You steal his ring!’
‘Madam,’ said Reiner, ‘I assure you…’
‘I know you now!’ she interrupted. ‘You no Imperial. You Chaos! Beast of Chaos!’
‘Madam, please. Contain yourself.’
The old woman scooped up the coins and jewels and hurled them at Reiner and Hennig. The two pistoliers ran, ducking out of the door.
HALFWAY BACK TO Vulsk, Hennig turned to Reiner, who sat lost in thought next to him on the buckboard of the cart.
‘She didn’t say it was for rats.’
‘Hmmm?’ Reiner lifted his chin off his palm.
‘The sister. She didn’t say the stuff was for rats. She said it was medicine.’
‘I know that, lad,’ said Reiner.
‘But then why did you say…’
‘I was only trying to ease things along.’ He laughed harshly at that.
Hennig frowned. ‘So then, do you think the witch was right?’
‘Of course not! The witch is an ignorant peasant. She is doubtless unaware of the higher curative properties of her so-called poisons.’ But Reiner was less than sanguine. If the business with the boyar’s ring had been an isolated incident, he might have laughed it off as the crazed imaginings of a demented crone, but the ring, on top of the revelation of the poisons, and Madam Tolshnaya’s grumblings about the priestess’s patients going bump in the night, it was all beginning to gnaw on him.
REINER STOLE ALONE into the stables. Hennig was buying samogon for the both of them in the tavern next door.
‘Sister Anyaka?’ Reiner called. ‘Sister, I would speak with you!’ He glared around in the dim interior, looking for the priestess. He wished instantly that he hadn’t entered. The smell was horrific, and the moans of the sick men fell unpleasantly on the ear. He could only barely make out their forms in the stalls, and was glad of it, but found that he was oddly distressed that he didn’t see the little fellow with the snow leopard hat.
Sister Anyaka hurried out of the tack room at the back of the stable. ‘Master Hetzau, is all well?’
‘That you shal
l have to tell me, lady,’ said Reiner stiffly. ‘I have just… Er, could we talk outside. It’s a bit, er…’
‘Certainly,’ said the priestess. ‘I am used to the smell, but I understand completely.’
She led him into the yard. The afternoon sun had melted the morning’s snow and there was a dry bench against the stable wall. They sat.
‘Tell me, my lord,’ said Anyaka, turning to Reiner. ‘What is troubling you?’
Now that he came to it, Reiner was suddenly less certain about things. The young woman looked so innocent that he found his suspicions melting away. ‘Er, well, er… I say, where’s the little fellow with the big hat? The snow leopard hat.’
Anyaka looked confused a moment. ‘Oh, you must mean Ulenko. He’s getting some air.’
‘Is he now? You surprise me. I wouldn’t have thought he could even sit up.’
The priestess frowned. ‘My lord, I can’t believe you’ve called on me to ask after the health of one of my patients. What is wrong?’
Reiner’s face fell. ‘Forgive me. It’s just a bit… Well, you see, I had a most awkward encounter with the wise woman you asked me to find. She recognized a ring you gave me and accused me of robbing her boyar’s grave to get it. Most disturbing. And I was wondering…’
Anyaka put a soft hand on his arm. ‘You poor man,’ she said. ‘To be harangued so on a mission of mercy. I only wish I had been there to explain to the woman.’ She looked at him sadly. Her eyes were green, with the depth of the ocean. ‘She was indeed correct. The ring’s owner was a boyar from near here. I curse myself for not thinking of the distress it might cause.’