Gotrek & Felix- the Third Omnibus - William King & Nathan Long

by Warhammer

  ‘Can there not?’ asked the countess. ‘If this victory were yours, and not ours or mine, would you not rise in the esteem of our lady, while I sank? Would you not come one step closer to winning my position, as you have been trying to do all these decades?’ The countess waved an impatient hand. ‘Oh, enough of this. It matters not, for your “gentlemen” cannot win the information that Herr Jaeger can. Only he can do it.’

  ‘Is he so great a hero as all that?’ asked Lady Hermione, raising a sceptical eyebrow. ‘My gentlemen are some of the finest duellists in all the Empire.’

  ‘No doubt,’ said countess as if she didn’t believe a word of it. ‘But they were not in the burning cellar under the Maze. They did not hear the leaders of the Cleansing Flame order their followers to attack. So how can they hear the voice of a clubman and know that in another part of town he wears a yellow mask and consorts with mutants?’

  Lady Hermione sniffed, frustrated. ‘Surely there must be another way to learn who these men are!’

  ‘There might be, but there is not time to find one,’ said the countess. ‘The madmen could burn Nuln at any time – tonight perhaps!’

  Lady Hermione exchanged a glance with Mistress Wither, then turned back to the countess. Her face was set and hard. ‘Be that as it may, you must still find another way,’ she said at last. ‘Because this man will not leave here alive having seen us and heard our names.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘You dare make demands in my house!’ cried Countess Gabriella. ‘I still rule here in Nuln, no matter how much it might pain you.’

  ‘You won’t after she gets word of this foolishness,’ said Lady Hermione. ‘Trusting cattle. No good ever comes of it.’

  Behind her, her exquisite companions were getting to their feet and resting their hands on their hilts.

  ‘Ladies,’ pleaded Felix. ‘There is no need for this. I and my companion leave in a few days for Middenheim, where we are very likely to die in the fighting. Your secret will die with us.’

  The vampiresses ignored him utterly.

  ‘The foolishness,’ said the countess, ‘is allowing Nuln to die to preserve your standing in it. Will you be queen of the ashes?’

  ‘There will be no ashes. We will find another way. Now stand aside. Mistress Wither thirsts.’

  The tall shadow glided towards Felix, arms raising.

  Felix stepped back, drawing his runesword.

  Ulrika snarled and advanced, drawing a second blade from her sleeve – a bone handled stiletto that gleamed like captured moonlight in the dark room. ‘Come end your misery, mistress,’ she said.

  Mistress Wither shrank back from the blade, hissing.

  ‘Silver!’ gasped Lady Hermione. ‘You would use poison against your own?’

  Hermione’s gentlemen drew their rapiers and pushed in through the door behind her. At the same time, the curtains of the canopied bed were thrown roughly open, and a powerful looking man stumbled out, entirely naked, brushing the hair out of his eyes and groping for a long sword that was propped against a side table. ‘Is m’lady threatened?’ the man slurred.

  ‘Peace, captain,’ said the countess, holding up her hand as he drew his sword.

  The man stayed where he was, but remained on guard.

  The tableau held for a long moment as the two sides sized each other up.

  At last the countess laughed. ‘Sisters, you amuse me. To preserve your secrecy you will start a fight that all the gentlemen of the Altestadt who are at their leisure one floor below us will hear. Will you then kill all of them when they come to see what is the matter? Your secrecy is in greater peril if you attack than if you withdraw. Now come, lower your weapons.’

  The women stayed where they were.

  ‘The fight may be over quicker than you think,’ said Lady Hermione.

  ‘Aye,’ said the countess. ‘And with at least one of us truly dead. What do you think she will say of that? Has she not said that murder among us is the greatest sin?’

  ‘It is you who drew silver!’

  ‘And you who forced silver to be drawn,’ said the countess. She lowered her dagger. ‘Now, come, listen to reason. The man will go and learn who these cultists are and what they plan, and he will be watched. Indeed, you may watch him, if that is your wish. If he speaks of our existence before he leaves Nuln, then do what you will.’

  ‘And after he leaves Nuln? How can you guarantee his silence then?’ asked Lady Hermione.

  Countess Gabriella looked from Felix to Ulrika and smiled. ‘Though he is not bound to us by the blood kiss, there are other ties that will stay his hand.’

  Lady Hermione curled her lip. ‘And all know how great is the constancy of man.’

  ‘Greater than that of sisters, so it seems,’ said Ulrika disdainfully.

  Lady Hermione remained on guard, glaring at Felix, and though he could not see Mistress Wither’s eyes, Felix felt certain that they were fixed upon him too.

  ‘Sisters,’ said the countess quietly. ‘We fight while our enemies light their fuses. We must act. Now. Let us resume this argument when we know that Nuln is safe.’

  Lady Hermione and Mistress Wither exchanged a glance, then at last stepped back. Lady Hermione’s men lowered their swords. Ulrika hesitated, then sheathed the silver stiletto.

  ‘It seems it must go as you say,’ said Hermione, bitterness dripping from each word. ‘But after, we will see. After, we will bring all before the lady, and we will see.’

  Countess Gabriella inclined her head. ‘So long as the Empire stands, I will be content with her verdict.’

  Lady Hermione snorted. ‘Oh, the nobility. It moves one to tears.’

  Mistress Wither laughed like a steam piston.

  The two vampiresses stepped to the right and left of the door. Hermione curtsied to Felix and swept a hand to the door. ‘Go then, oh fair and gentle knight. Save us from the machinations of our enemies. But know, champion, that our eyes will ever be upon you.’

  Felix’s flesh crawled as Ulrika led him forward between them and out through the antechamber under the glowering scrutiny of Lady Hermione’s gentlemen. He didn’t like this at all. What guarantee did he have that the women wouldn’t strike out of spite once he had outlived his usefulness? And would they watch him everywhere? When he slept? When he went to the jakes? He groaned silently. It might have been better to have had the fight then and there and gotten it over with.

  ‘I apologise,’ said Ulrika, as the coach swayed smoothly through the streets towards Shantytown. ‘Family can be embarrassing.’

  ‘Who are they?’ asked Felix.

  Ulrika pursed her lips. ‘Lady Hermione is the countess’s chief rival here in Nuln. She has been longer in the city – almost fifty years. And so was understandably upset when the countess, who though she does not look it, is younger than her by several centuries, was given the ruling of Nuln instead of her. But it is her own fault. Though she has no equals when it comes to seduction, she is quick to anger, and unwilling to compromise. She hasn’t the temperament to lead.’

  ‘Yes, I saw that.’

  ‘Mistress Wither…’ Ulrika shook her head. ‘Mistress Wither is a caution to us all. She was too flagrant in her youth. Too violent. She was caught by hunters, and left naked and shackled to a rock to await the rising sun. She was rescued by her thralls, but not before dawn had come.’ Ulrika shivered. ‘It might have been better had she died then. Her skin is like burned paper. It never heals. She is in agony every moment of her eternal life. Only feeding gives her some relief, but not much, and not for long. She hates men beyond all reason.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ said Felix. ‘And do you trust them not to attack us after this is over?’

  ‘I do not know.’ Ulrika sighed and looked out of the window into the torchlit night. ‘Sad as I will be to see you go, I think it is good that you are leaving soon.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Felix. Running towards the daemons to escape the vampires. What a life.

  Ulrika dropp
ed Felix off in Shantytown where she had picked him up. As he walked towards the remains of the Blind Pig, he saw a swarm of activity under the yellow glow of bright lanterns. A wagon had been drawn up beside the ruined tavern, and Heinz and his bouncers were throwing blackened timbers onto it.

  ‘’Ware below!’ came a familiar voice, and a section of the tavern’s roof folded in on itself and crashed to the ground.

  Gotrek was revealed on the remains of the upper floor. He was black with soot from head to toe, and had a kerchief tied around his nose and mouth.

  ‘This is why dwarfs hate trees,’ he called down to Heinz as he chopped through some ruined beams. ‘Trees burn. Stone does not.’

  ‘Aye, well, not all of us can afford to build with stone,’ said Heinz.

  ‘You can now,’ said Gotrek.

  ‘I won’t take your gold, curse you!’ said Heinz, standing straight and glaring up at the Slayer. ‘I told you once already.’

  Gold, thought Felix. Gotrek still has gold?

  ‘You think I’m giving it to you?’ asked Gotrek. ‘I’m paying for my next thousand drinks.’

  ‘That bracelet is worth a thousand thousand drinks,’ said Heinz peevishly.

  ‘I’ll bring some friends.’

  Heinz snorted and turned away to lift another burned board. ‘And what friends have you got, you miserable grouch?’ he muttered to himself, but he was smiling in spite of himself.

  Gotrek saw Felix coming and swung down a ladder to join him by the wagon. There was an open half keg of ale next to it. Gotrek dipped a mug in it and drank deep, then wiped his mouth, smearing away a thick layer of soot.

  ‘What did the parasite say?’ he asked.

  Felix hesitated, considering how much to tell him about his visit to the countess’s brothel. Did he mention the countess’s attempt to force a promise of Gotrek’s good behaviour from him? Did he mention Lady Hermione and Mistress Wither and their intention to murder them if they revealed their existence? Perhaps it was better to let sleeping dogs lie. On the other hand, he should know the other players in the game.

  ‘The countess is as wary of you as you are of her.’

  ‘She has reason to be,’ growled Gotrek.

  ‘And she has allies – rivals, really – who don’t want us involved at all.’

  ‘Allies?’

  ‘Two other vampire women,’ said Felix. ‘A beautiful seductress and a… a shrouded thing, burned by the sun, apparently, and hiding it under robes. The countess convinced them in the end that we were needed to defeat the cultists, but I think they would sooner kill us.’

  ‘Let them try,’ said Gotrek. ‘I made no vow with them.’

  Felix coughed. ‘All the same, the countess may have provided the link to the Cleansing Flame we have been seeking. It might be politic to stay your hand, at least until we find them and the powder.’

  ‘Politic.’ Gotrek spat out the word as if it was the vilest profanity. ‘What is this link?’

  Felix pulled the wolf’s head pendant from his pouch. ‘Ulrika took this from one of the cultists last night. It’s an insignia worn by members of Wulf’s, a club for rich burghers. She and the countess think that some of the other cult leaders might be members of the club too. They want me to go there and listen, in hopes I will hear a voice I recognise from the fight.’

  ‘That is a slim hope, manling. Not worth the alliance.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Felix. ‘But it’s the only hope we have at the moment.’

  Gotrek grunted, dissatisfied. His gaze travelled back up to the tavern’s skeletal upper floor.

  ‘I’ll see my brother about going to Wulf’s tomorrow night,’ said Felix. ‘He is a member.’

  Gotrek nodded, distracted. He finished his mug of ale in a single swallow and started back towards the ladder. ‘Doesn’t sound like my sort of work. Come back when you’ve found me something to kill.’

  ‘Ah, Gotrek,’ called Felix after him.

  Gotrek stopped and turned. ‘Hey?’

  ‘You’re… you’re giving Heinz gold to fix the Blind Pig?’

  ‘Aye.’

  Felix frowned. ‘You said we were broke. We didn’t eat our last two days before Nuln.’

  ‘We are broke,’ growled Gotrek. He held up his thick left wrist, full of gold bracelets, letting them glint in the lamplight. ‘Some gold’s not for spending.’

  ‘Unless a friend’s tavern burns down,’ said Felix.

  ‘Aye,’ said Gotrek, and started towards the ladder again.

  Felix watched as the Slayer climbed it and moved carefully through the ruined upper storey, expertly choosing the next parts to demolish. There was a satisfaction on his ugly face that was almost happiness. Felix suddenly remembered that Gotrek had been an engineer before he shaved his head and took the Slayer’s Oath. A strange melancholy passed over him when he thought that, if whatever tragedy had caused Gotrek to become a Slayer hadn’t happened, this is what he would have been, a builder of houses and halls. Would he have been happy with just that? Had there really been a time when simple labour could have fulfilled Gotrek’s heart?

  Felix visited the Nuln office of Jaeger and Sons the next morning just before noon. The long, dim room was filled with rows of bookkeepers, perched on high stools and bent over their ledgers like an army of hunchbacked storks, quills flying from ink pot to parchment and back. Young boys scurried among them carrying account books nearly as heavy as themselves. The air smelled of candlewick and dust.

  ‘May I help you?’ asked a pale man with spectacles and heavy jowls who sat at a high desk near the front door. He had ink stains on his fingers and his lips.

  ‘I’m looking for Otto Jaeger. I’m his brother.’

  ‘Do you have an appointment?’

  ‘No. I’m his brother.’

  The bookkeeper sniffed as if this made no difference whatsoever. ‘I’ll see if he’s receiving.’ He shouted over his shoulder. ‘Rodi! Ask Herr Jaeger if he will see his brother.’

  A thin little boy saluted, then scurried back through the rows of tall desks and disappeared around a corner as the bookkeeper went back to his accounts, ignoring Felix. The scritch of quill nibs on paper filled the room as he waited. It sounded to Felix like a hundred rats clawing at the walls of a hundred cages. A shudder went through him. Imagine if he had remained on the path his father had set for him. He would have spent his life in a room like this, adding up accounts, fretting over the delivery of goods, worrying about the price of oats and about how much to bribe the local authorities.

  A thought made him smile. Why was it that, when faced with a horde of howling orcs he wished so dearly for this life, and when faced with this life, he wished so dearly for a horde of howling orcs? A truism could have been found somewhere in that conundrum, if he had had any energy for that sort of thing anymore.

  The little boy popped his head around the corner. ‘He says he’ll see him, sir!’ he squealed.

  The bookkeeper slapped his desk and stood, roaring. ‘Don’t shout, you little goblin! You disturb the others! Come up and tell me politely, like a gentleman.’ A vein throbbed in his pale forehead.

  The little boy cringed and hurried forward, head down, as the clerks stifled amused laughter and shot sly smirks at each other.

  ‘Sorry, Herr Bartlemaas,’ said the little boy, his eyes on the ground. ‘Herr Jaeger will see, er, Herr Jaeger.’

  ‘Better,’ said the head clerk. ‘Now show our guest back to Herr Jaeger’s office. And no more shouting, or you’ll not get your penny today.’

  Felix followed the boy’s slumped shoulders through the office, fighting the urge to draw his sword and chop the whole place to flinders.

  ‘You’ll have to be brief, brother,’ said Otto without looking up from the papers spread across his massive desk. ‘I’m expecting representatives from the bargemen’s guild at any moment. I cannot keep them waiting.’

  In comparison with the opulence of his home, Otto’s office was as plain as a monk’s cell – a sm
all room with an iron stove in one corner, a pair of chairs before the big desk, and floor to ceiling bookshelves on every wall, all filled with massive ledgers, each with a month and year printed neatly on the spine. Otto’s pens and blotters and ink bottles were all of cheap manufacture. The lantern he used to light his work the same as any farmer would have. Felix wondered if his brother dressed his office down on purpose in order to be able to plead poor mouth to his business associates. He certainly wouldn’t put it past him.

  ‘Well, I…’ Felix paused, then summoned his courage and continued. ‘I’ve been thinking about your offer.’

  Otto raised his eyes in mock surprise. ‘What’s this? You wish to get your hands dirty, m’lord? You wish to descend from your lofty perch and join us mere mortals in the real world?’ He chuckled, then continued in his normal tone. ‘What happened? Has the little maniac with the axe fired you at last?’

  Felix bit his tongue. A smart reply wouldn’t get the job done. ‘Fired me? No. But he almost got me burned to a cinder. I’m growing tired of collecting scars.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you were behind those fires in Shantytown last night?’ said Otto, his eyes widening.

  ‘Not behind them, exactly,’ said Felix. ‘But certainly in the middle of them.’

  Otto shrugged. ‘Well, you got out of it at least. And you’ve done me a good turn. I’ll make a tidy profit selling bricks and timber to rebuild it all.’

  ‘At wartime prices,’ said Felix dryly.

  ‘Naturally,’ said Otto. ‘So, what would you like to do?’

  The vile little profiteer, thought Felix. Was it any wonder cults like the Cleansing Flame flourished when men like Otto preyed on the poor and the unfortunate? He took a deep breath and relaxed his clenched fists.

  ‘That’s what I’d like to discuss with you,’ he said at last. ‘But I don’t want to take up your time here. Perhaps…’

  A knock came at the door and the little boy looked in. ‘The bargemen are here, sir,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you, Rodi,’ said Otto. ‘Tell them I’ll see them in just a moment.’ He stood and came around the desk as the boy disappeared again. ‘Come have dinner with me tonight at the Golden Hammer,’ he said to Felix, then looked him up and down. ‘Have you got a good suit of clothes?’