by Warhammer
‘Yes, my lady.’ The girl curtsied, then stepped to the canopied bed. She drew aside one of the curtains and looked within, then turned back to the countess. ‘He does, my lady.’
‘Very good,’ said the countess.
The girl curtsied again and then drifted silently out into the antechamber. Felix stared uneasily at the hidden bed, alarmed. What had happened to poor Captain Reingelt, whoever he might be?
He turned back to Countess Gabriella and found her gazing upon him. He flinched. She smiled. ‘Are you comfortable, Herr Jaeger?’
Felix chuckled. ‘I don’t know if I have ever been more comfortable and at the same time uncomfortable in all my life.’
The countess laughed, a silvery waterfall of delight.
‘You are not the first, Herr Jaeger,’ she said, ‘upon whom this place has had that effect.’
‘Ah,’ said Felix, motioning back over his shoulder. ‘Those… young women. Were they all…?’
‘Not a one,’ said the countess. ‘We of the sisterhood do not grant the blood gift in so profligate a manner. They are merely girls – children made victims of their own beauty – whom I have rescued and brought here so that they may learn the womanly arts at my… hmm… my atelier.’
It took a moment for Felix to fight his way through the flowery phrasing to the meaning of her words. ‘You kidnap pretty little girls and train them to be harlots?’
Countess Gabriella smiled with practiced ease. ‘It amuses you to be blunt, Herr Jaeger. But no, the girls are purchased from orphanages or saved from the street, and though it is true that the least of them may indeed find employment within these walls, the best will become the wives and mistresses of the richest, most influential noblemen and merchants in the Old World, and live lives of luxury and leisure of which, in their previous lives, they could never have dreamed.’
‘All the while spying for you and your “sisterhood”,’ said Felix.
The countess nodded. ‘But of course. One likes to see a return on one’s investment.’
Felix opened his mouth to make a witty reply, but all at once the countess’s smile vanished as if it had never been.
‘But now to business,’ she said.
Felix sat up and waited for her to speak, but despite her words, she paused, her eyes boring into him like a Sigmarite witch hunter trying to see into his soul.
‘Before we begin,’ she said at last. ‘I must ask you a question.’ She sat a little forward, her robe falling open to reveal the soft white contours of her breasts. ‘I have information to impart to you that will help us both in our fight against these vile cultists, but first I must know that you and your fell companion do not mean me and mine any harm, and will not expose or attack us after our mutual foe is defeated.’
Felix hesitated. For reasons of etiquette and manners, he was glad Gotrek was not present – had he been here there would almost certainly have been bloodshed already – but the Slayer should have been here to answer this question for himself. ‘I mean you no harm,’ he said at last. ‘But I cannot speak for the Slayer. He has said that he feels you forswore the oath you made that you would teach Ulrika to do no harm.’
Countess Gabriella’s eyes flashed. ‘Does he indeed? And why does he believe such a thing?’
Felix coughed. ‘Well, both of us witnessed her kill several men last night.’
The countess waved a dismissive hand. ‘She defended herself, and you. It is less than the Slayer does himself. Did he think I would make a sister of Shallya of her?’ She raised her chin, defiant. ‘Since I accepted her as my get, Ulrika has not killed a single man while slaking her thirst. This was the sum of my promise. More he cannot expect. Ulrika is a warrior. She killed scores of men before entering my service, some of them while fighting at the Slayer’s side. In the course of her duties as my bodyguard and my envoy, she has killed to defend me and to protect my interests. Would the Slayer consider these things a breach of my oath?’
Felix pursed his lips, remembering Gotrek’s feud with Hamnir, and many others. ‘I cannot say, but I know Gotrek has demanded that those who make vows with him honour their most minute points, sometimes beyond all common sense.’ He shrugged. ‘He is a dwarf.’
The countess slapped the arm of the chaise, annoyed. ‘You cannot say? Then why is he not here to speak for himself?’ she asked. ‘The information I have may be the key to destroying these fiends. But I dare not reveal it to you without protecting myself.’ She glared at Felix. ‘Can you not give me a guarantee for the dwarf’s behaviour?’
Felix laughed, then recovered himself as she saw her anger flare. ‘Forgive me, countess, but Gotrek obeys no one but himself. He would not honour any pledge that I or anyone else made in his name.’
The countess’s jaw clenched.
‘On the other hand,’ said Felix. ‘The Slayer does not hesitate once he makes up his mind. If he had decided that you had truly broken your vow, he would already have acted. He would be here, and you would be… defending yourself.’ He had almost said, ‘you would be dead,’ but decided at the last second that that would not be very diplomatic.
As the countess mulled this over, the door opened behind Felix and a tall woman in a corseted green satin dress entered and took a seat on a chair near the chaise. She had long wavy auburn hair that hung almost to her waist and a trim, elegant figure. Felix found it hard not to stare at her. Another beauty! Was there no end to them? This one seemed more mature than the rest of the countess’s students – a woman, not a girl – but as graceful as a leopardess and as proud as a swan. She met his gaze steadily, then winked an ice blue eye at him. He jerked back in his seat, surprised. It was Ulrika! The auburn hair was a wig. She grinned at his surprise, and put a finger to her lips.
Felix stared anew. He hadn’t seen her dressed in so womanly a fashion since their first night together, back on her father’s estate. The memory of it made his heart skip a beat.
‘So,’ said Countess Gabriella, finally. ‘You don’t think the Slayer means me harm?’
‘I cannot say, countess – er, madame,’ said Felix, pulling his eyes away from Ulrika and his mind back to the present with difficulty. ‘His temper is changeable, to say the least. I do know that at present he wants two things above all others. He wishes vengeance on the Brotherhood of the Cleansing Flame for the burning of the tavern of his friend, and he wishes to reach Middenheim and die facing a daemon in battle. If you can aid him in achieving either or both…’
‘Mistress,’ said Ulrika, interrupting. ‘If I might make an observation.’
‘Of course, daughter,’ said the countess.
‘I think it is perhaps impossible to remove the risk from this venture. I do not think the Slayer will give you the guarantee you wish. But…’ she said, raising her voice as the countess opened her mouth to interrupt. ‘But, I think that the risk is justified. The Cleansing Flame want no less than the destruction of the Empire and the end of our way of life. They have sided with the Ruinous Powers, and will undoubtedly call upon them for aid. They will bring sorcerers and beasts and daemons against us. They will summon their dark gods to smite us. These are foes that the followers you currently command, loyal though they may be, cannot prevail against.’
‘Even yourself, daughter?’
‘Even myself,’ agreed Ulrika, then continued. ‘If we want to ensure the destruction of these evil men, and the defeat of their vile masters. If we want to preserve the life we have now and the future we crave, then we must risk this alliance. Herr Jaeger and Slayer Gurnisson have won battles against the deadliest of foes. I have seen Herr Jaeger kill a dragon. I have witnessed the Slayer destroy daemons. Tides of beastmen have fallen before them. They are our best weapon against these corrupters.’
Felix swallowed. No need to lay it on so thick, he thought. Just because they had fought all those things and won didn’t mean they could do it again, or wanted to do it again. Well, he didn’t anyway.
Countess Gabriella pressed her fingertips t
ogether, her eyes turned inward, thinking. As the silence lengthened, Felix caught Ulrika looking at him. She spread her hands in a pleading gesture.
Felix grunted. He didn’t want to convince the countess to dig them deeper into this mess. He didn’t like this kind of fight – where one never knew who one’s enemies were. He didn’t care to guess which of the men around him had worn a mask the night before and tried to blow him up with black powder. He didn’t like wondering when a friend or companion might turn on him, dagger raised, the mad light of fanaticism blazing from his eyes. The more he thought about it, the more flying off to Middenheim and fighting enemies out on an open battlefield seemed like the most appealing option.
But he knew it was useless. He had seen the look in Gotrek’s eyes when he had found Fritz sitting before the blackened ruins of the Blind Pig. They were going nowhere until the Slayer had found the men responsible for hurting his friend, so if the countess could help them get it over with more quickly, so much the better.
Felix coughed politely. ‘Countess, there was a time, some years ago, when you asked me to trust you. When I was forced to overcome my fear and distrust of your kind so that we could work together to defeat a common foe. I was as hesitant then as you are now, and yet, when, against every instinct, I agreed and we joined together, we triumphed.’ He spread his hands. ‘As I said, I can make no vow for Gotrek, but I know he hates these men as much, if not more, than you do. If you give him a way to confront them, he will take it. That, you can trust.’
The countess nodded, still unseeing, then at last sighed and looked up, fixing Felix with a stare as cold and bottomless as the depths of Black Water Lake. ‘I suppose I have no choice,’ she said. ‘Particularly since I can do nothing with the information I have without you, at least not quickly or without weakening my position. But know this; you will not betray me and live. You may be a great hero, and your companion a fell warrior, but the daughters of the deathless queen are everywhere, behind every beautiful smile, and they seldom strike from the front.’ She glanced meaningfully towards the canopied bed, then smiled at him. ‘You would not die in battle.’
Felix shuddered. ‘Threats are not necessary, madame,’ he said. ‘Your reputation is enough.’
‘Good,’ said the countess. She looked to Ulrika. ‘Tell him.’
Ulrika lowered her head, then turned to Felix. ‘As I was ripping out the throat of one of the cultists last night, this came away with his flesh.’
She lifted a golden chain from her bodice, unhooked the clasp and passed it to Felix. He took it reluctantly, but it seemed she had removed all traces of gore. He looked at it. On the chain was a small golden pendant, in the shape of a shield emblazoned with a wolf’s head. He vaguely recognised the device, but couldn’t remember from where.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘A signet chain worn by members of Wulf’s, a private gentlemen’s club in the Handelbezirk,’ said Ulrika.
‘Ah, of course.’ Once she said it, Felix recognised it instantly. Back in the days when he and Gotrek had been bouncers at the Blind Pig, he had from time to time thrown out members of Wulf’s who had come in looking to start trouble. The club had originally been a club for rich merchants, but when the more elegant Golden Hammer had opened, the merchants began to go there instead, and Wulf’s was taken over by their sons, idle layabouts with too much money and too much time on their hands. They aped the manners of the nobility and liked to prove their superiority over their poorer brethren with the point of a rapier. Strange that one such would belong to a group that seemed dedicated to overthrowing the established order.
‘We want to learn if other members of Wulf’s also belong to the Cleansing Flame,’ said Ulrika. ‘But it is a gentlemen’s club. No women are allowed. Even the servants are all male.’
‘And you know no men but me?’ asked Felix, incredulous. ‘Unless I have the purpose of this establishment entirely wrong, you must know half the rich men in this city. None belong to Wulf’s?’
‘My customers are not my confidants,’ said the countess, as if explaining something to a child. ‘I extract secrets from them without their knowledge. Asking them openly to spy for me would expose to them my true purpose. Those few men who are my confidants and servants…’ She nodded towards the bed. ‘Some are so besotted that I cannot trust their judgement. Others… well, I will not bore you with internecine intrigues and tales of divided loyalties. Suffice to say that there is no man already within my circle upon whom I can entirely place my trust. So…’ She raised her eyes to meet his. ‘That leaves you.’
Felix frowned, still confused. ‘But I don’t understand. I can’t help you either. I’m not a member.’
‘No,’ said the countess. ‘But your brother is. Though he no longer dines there, he has never resigned his membership.’
‘Wha… How… How do you know that?’ gabbled Felix.
The countess smiled. ‘As you said, Herr Jaeger, we know half the rich men in this city. And the other half too.’
‘Otto comes here…?’ Felix was dumbfounded, though he couldn’t think why. Why should his brother be any different from any other rich man he had ever known?
‘You will ask him to take you to dinner there,’ said the countess, placidly. ‘Once inside you will hopefully hear a voice you heard in the burning cellar, or recognise someone by their walk. And then…’ she smiled prettily. ‘Well, you’re the hero. I expect you’ll know what to do.’
Felix groaned, recalling how he and his brother had left things at the end of their last conversation. How in the world was he going to get Otto to take him anywhere, let alone to a club he no longer frequented?
‘You will report to Ulrika all you find, is that clear?’ asked the countess. ‘I want to know everything before you act.’
‘Yes, countess. Certainly,’ said Felix, distracted. He rose to go, playing out different ways he might approach his brother, and not liking the outcomes of any of them.
The countess raised a tiny golden bell, but Ulrika stood and held up a hand.
‘No need, madame. I’ll see him out.’
The anteroom door slammed open. The little blonde girl tumbled in and hit the carpet chin-first as two silhouettes filled the doorway. More figures crowded the anteroom behind them. Felix’s hand dropped to his hilt.
‘What’s this!’ Countess Gabriella was on her feet instantly, a dagger in her hand. ‘Who dares enter my chambers uninvited?’
Ulrika too gripped a dagger, and was looking like she regretted having changed into womanly garb. She stepped protectively in front of Felix. The little blonde girl was crabbing backwards away from the door, wide-eyed, a smear of blood on her lip.
Two women stepped into the room – well, one of them was a woman. Felix wasn’t sure the other was even human – or ever had been.
‘Good evening, Madame du Vilmorin,’ said the more human of the two, throwing back a rich, velvet cloak. She was beautiful – as beautiful as any of the countess’s students – an olive complexion like an Estalian, with pouting lips and heavy lidded eyes as black and cold as a winter sea. Thick waves of glossy black hair spilled down past her bare shoulders to a wide-skirted dress of oxblood satin and black embroidery, so exquisitely made that a queen might envy it.
‘What is the meaning of this intrusion, Lady Hermione?’ snapped the countess. ‘And you, Mistress Wither?’ The countess’s robe had fallen open entirely and her naked white curves shone in the dark room like alabaster lit from within. ‘Give me a reason why I should not set Ulrika upon you,’ she said as the little blonde girl clung to her right leg.
‘We heard a rumour,’ said Lady Hermione coolly, as she tugged off black lace gloves one finger at a time, then tucked them into a beaded drawstring purse that matched the colours of her dress exactly. ‘That you thought to bring an outsider into our business.’ She ran her eyes up and down Felix with a dismissive sneer. ‘It seems we heard correctly.’
The other woman – Mistress Wither – r
asped wordlessly at this in a voice that sounded like water splashing on a hot stove. She was tall – taller than Felix by half a head – and appeared skeletally thin under the hooded shroud that hid every inch of her and hissed against the carpet as she glided from place to place. Long sleeves hung down past her hands. Her face was covered with a thick black veil that made it look like there was nothing within her hood but shadows.
‘What business is it of yours,’ asked the countess, ‘what tool I use to achieve my ends?’
Tool, thought Felix. Well, good to know her true opinion of him, he supposed.
Lady Hermione flicked an eye over Felix again. ‘He has never been tasted. You have no hold on him. You treat with him as an equal. We heard you.’ She gave the countess a sad look. ‘You know better than this, sister. We do not use men that are not fully bound to us. You cannot allow him to leave like this. He will betray us. He will expose us to all of Nuln. Our work will be undone.’
Felix opened his mouth but Ulrika touched his arm with a warning hand.
‘Our work will be undone if Nuln falls to the barbarians,’ said the countess. ‘Our lives will be undone. This man can do what we cannot. Go where we cannot.’
‘What?’ sniffed Hermione. ‘To Wulf’s? Yes, we heard that too. Don’t be ridiculous.’ She motioned behind her. ‘Any number of my gentlemen are members of Wulf’s. You had but to ask.’
Felix looked through the door. Lounging languidly on the fragile chairs in the anteroom were a handful of dashing, mustachioed heroes, each as handsome as a statue of Sigmar, and certainly just as much a work of art. They did indeed look the sort that would belong to Wulf’s.
It was Countess Gabriella’s turn to sneer. ‘Do you think I would trust any of your creatures? Whose interests would they serve, I wonder?’
‘Surely all our interests are one in this calamity,’ said Hermione. ‘There can be no rivalry when all our lives are at stake.’