Free Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale by Tracy Falbe Page A

anything
about your pilgrimage to Rome.”
    “It did not come up,” Thal said.
    Andreli offered, “Ondrej had some wild ideas
about my guest that rightly made him uncomfortable. The good
brother’s imagination was all ablaze after a recent visit by
Jesuits.”
    “I can understand that,” Jan said and drained
his cup. The Jesuits who had passed through had stimulated the
Rosenberg household as well.
    Still hoping to inoculate the captain from
suspicion, Andreli said, “Thal has a family heirloom with code
writing. Ondrej called it devilry and Thal took offense but excused
himself instead of losing his temper among holy men.”
    “Very good manners,” Jan commented.
    “I’m just looking to enjoy my travels,” Thal
said. He almost mentioned that he wanted to play cards but he
thought it might be premature. Best to let Andreli bring that up he
reasoned.
    Thal’s mildness did not match the fresh
gossip Jan had heard at the monastery. He figured he would keep an
eye on the stranger but not add to the monk’s dramatic suggestions.
Baron Rosenberg liked his scenic vale to enjoy quiet living.
Agitating the superstitions of the folk was not to be done lightly.
And it would inevitably mean more work for Jan.
    Turning to Andreli, Jan said, “Do you think
you’ll be moving on soon?”
    The Gypsy sighed. He knew he had worn out his
welcome. “You wound me, Captain. I thought that we were friends.
Can I not petition Baron Rosenberg for permission to settle, even
in the hills?”
    Jan scoffed. “Spare me any saintly proposals
about becoming swineherds and paying taxes. And I do come here as a
friend. You know I enjoy your liberal charms, but it is your way to
move on.”
    Andreli knew gentle suggestion would not stay
gentle forever.
    “Your advice is kindly given. I shall take it
to heart, but surely we should enjoy a few more hands of cards
before we part,” he said.
    “I want more music,” Jan said.
    The dancers roused themselves back to action.
The audience clapped as they increased their tempo. Jan eyed the
young women closely and enjoyed their individual attentions as they
broke from their group one by one and circled him and touched his
shoulders and swung their hips.
    Their enticing solos went on and the music
became more seductive. Thal’s head swam with more than just the
effects of alcohol. He realized he wanted the dancers to come to
him, especially Medina, who had been so friendly by the river.
    To his silent dismay, Jan pulled Medina into
his lap. She nuzzled his neck as the music ended.
    “Andreli, let’s save primero for another
night. Your Gypsy angel needs to play a game with me,” Jan
said.
    “You’ll find she knows all the rules,”
Andreli said.
    Jan stood up and kept Medina close with an
arm around her waist. He withdrew with her across the camp to a
dark tent. Lucas tossed some coins to the other dancers and told
the musicians to keep playing. He took out another bottle. Andreli
and Petro held out their cups, but Thal excused himself.
    Once on his feet he felt the effect of the
beer more strongly but he adapted and liked the extra swagger in
his step. He wondered the camp. The crowd was loosening up now that
the dancers were done, but a few would stay up to listen to music.
Thal drifted toward the tent where Medina had gone but then
stopped. He could hear faintly what was happening. The big guard
captain was on top of her, but she did not seem to be in distress.
Realizing the situation he moped back to Emerald’s wagon.
    His hostess was kicked back by her fire with
her feet raised up across a small barrel. Her hands were behind her
head as she gazed up at the stars. Twigs crackled in orange flames
next to her. She smiled her big-toothed smile when Thal stood over
her.
    “Lose at cards already?” she inquired.
    “There’s no game,” he said. He had been
looking forward to it, but now he was troubled. “Why does Medina go
mate with that man?” he asked.
    “Oh you’re jealous,”