CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

 

 

After the rigours of trekking through the wilderness the sheer ease of walking along the open road left Rudi pleasantly surprised. Conscious of their status as fugitives he kept a wary eye out for other travellers, but they were to be few and far between. In the remaining hours of daylight they encountered a small party of peasants who gazed at them with wary suspicion and a taciturn nod of greeting, a cart full of dung driven by an old man who looked and smelled as though he’d been sleeping in the stuff, and a distant cloud of dust which resolved itself into a fast-moving coach drawn by a team of horses.

The coach bore down on them with frightening speed, and Rudi watched it approach almost transfixed. He’d never seen anything like it before, and the pounding of the hooves and the rattling of the wheels seemed to fill the air like thunder.

“Get out of the way!” Hanna grabbed his arm and yanked him aside, seeking refuge on the springy grass of the verge. The equipage whirled past in a blur of equine limbs, varnished wood, and brightly-liveried coachmen, leaving them choking in the cloud of displaced dust which settled slowly back to the road in its wake. Rudi watched it disappear in the direction of Kallcaat, his mouth agape.

“That must have been a nobleman,” he said at last. “Maybe even the Emperor himself!” Hanna laughed.

“It was the overland coach from Marienburg to Altdorf,” she said. “It said so on the side.”

They walked until the sun began to drop below the horizon, staining the sky the colour of blood. Then Rudi began to look for a suitable place to camp alongside the road. They would have stood more chance of finding a refuge away from the carriageway, but by now the light was fading so fast that it was barely possible to see. He cursed himself for not thinking about it earlier. That was the trouble with roads, he supposed, they made the going so easy you lost touch with the natural world around you.

“Can you hear that?” Hanna asked, cocking her head. Rudi strained his own ears, conscious now of a vague murmur in the distance that was barely audible above the faint wind and the sound of his own blood circulating.

“I think so.” He nodded, and resumed walking. No doubt they’d find out what it was soon enough.

Shortly afterwards they spotted a light ahead, the welcoming yellow glow of candles and hearth fires, and the sound had swelled to the hum of human activity. More than that, the wind was now carrying the mouth-flooding odour of roasting meat, mixed with a hint of horse dung and leather.

“We’re coming to a village,” Rudi said, his steps slowing. Hanna shook her head, the gesture nothing but a faint blur of pale face and blonde hair in the darkness.

“I don’t think so. There’s not enough light for that.”

“What then?” Rudi asked. The girl shrugged.

“Who cares? So long as they don’t know who we are.”

Despite their trepidation the two travellers began walking towards the glow. There was nowhere else to go in any case. Rudi found his palms beginning to sweat, and spoke a little too loudly to mask his nervousness.

“If they don’t, we might be able to trade the pelts. Make a bit of money.”

“Maybe.” Hanna’s attention was on a board fastened to a wooden pole driven into the ground at the side of the road. Just beyond it was a large building, at least as big as Steiner’s mansion. Two wings jutted from it to enclose a courtyard. Rudi found his heart hammering more loudly than ever. Whoever lived here must be rich and powerful. Perhaps it wouldn’t be wise to come to their attention at all. “There must be all sorts passing through a place like this.”

Rudi looked at the sign, which depicted a severe looking cleric of Sigmar hoisting a tankard of ale with what the artist had evidently intended to be either an expression of hearty good cheer or acute indigestion. The penny dropped.

“It’s a tavern!” Far larger than Johannes’ establishment in Kohlstadt, but he was beginning to realise that the world was a bigger place than he’d imagined, and so it was not surprising that much in it was on a correspondingly vast scale. Hanna nodded, and read the lettering under the picture out loud for him, tactful enough to pretend to be merely confirming the remark.

“The folly Friar. It must be a coaching inn.” Before he could reveal his ignorance by asking what the distinction was, she went on. “There’s a chain of them all along the main highways, where travellers can rest for the night.”

“Then that’ll do us,” Rudi said decisively. He fingered the small pouch of coins in his pack. “I’ve got money.”

“If you’re sure.” Hanna was clearly torn between caution, and the aroma of good food and the promise of a warm bed. “It’s all we’ve got remember. We shouldn’t squander it.”

“There’s plenty,” Rudi reassured her, hoping he was right. “And we’ve got the skins to sell.”

“All right.” Hanna agreed. “Let’s go in.”

They passed almost unnoticed through the courtyard. The hard-packed earth of the road gave way to cobblestones which felt hard underfoot, and sparked against the iron shoes of the horses being led about by ostlers. The coach that had passed them earlier was standing to one side, its traces empty. Flaring sconces lit the enclosed space, pushing back the darkness and intensifying it at the same time.

The main bulk of the inn lay ahead of them, the wings enclosing the courtyard turning out to be stables and storage blocks. Rudi felt his heart sinking with every step they took towards it. It was even bigger than he’d thought at first, and the babble of dozens of voices was filtering through the windows. They held the unmistakable sheen of glass, which meant that this was a prosperous establishment, so his limited supply of pennies might not go as far as he’d hoped. For a moment he was on the verge of turning away, but that would mean disappointing Hanna, and he was surprised to find that the thought of doing that was far more painful than any alternative. Besides, he’d fought wolves and beastmen; how intimidating could a tavern full of humans be by comparison?

The answer turned out to be more than he could possibly have anticipated. As he pushed the heavy wooden door open the light and noise burst out like a physical force. He checked his progress for a moment on the threshold. Hanna nudged him in the back and he stepped forward into the tumult.

The room seemed vast, larger than any enclosed space he’d ever been in before; it was divided up by tables and booths. The place reeked of old ale and sweat. The faces of most of the customers were shadowed by the oil lamps that hung from ceiling beams and brackets in the walls, they were men for the most part, although there were some women in the room too. The majority of these appeared to be employees, bustling about with flagons of ale or platters of food, although the exceptions were a mystery to Rudi. Some were clearly customers and were part of larger groups. They were dressed like the men they accompanied, in worn breeches or travel-stained leathers, and at least two of them were carrying swords. A handful of others were dressed in a more feminine manner. They circulated around the room chatting and laughing, joining the customers for a while and then leaving with one. After a moment’s thought he realised they must be there to meet friends; with the room so crowded it was no wonder they had to look around awhile before they found one.

“Can I help you?” Almost without realising it, Rudi had made his way to the bar in the corner. It was an imposing structure of polished wood, where a man in late middle age with thinning white hair and a florid expression leaned forward expectantly. Clearing his throat, Rudi nodded.

“We’d like some food. And a bed for the night.”

“I bet you would.” The man glanced at the two fugitives and laughed. So did several of the customers in earshot, and Rudi found himself blushing furiously.

“Each, I mean.” Hanna’s face hardened in a manner he remembered all too well from their infrequent encounters in Kohlstadt before fate had thrown them together, and he hurried on to forestall the incipient explosion. So far, at least, they’d managed not to draw any attention to themselves, and he desperately wanted to keep it that way. “My sister and I have travelled a long way today.”

“Ah. My mistake.” The landlord’s tone was clearly disbelieving. “So you’ll be wanting a room together then? With two beds.”

“Yes.” Hanna nailed the man with her eyes, and smiled sweetly. “If that’s not too much trouble.” Somehow her tone managed to convey that the inconvenience would be a trifle in comparison to the consequences of a refusal. He nodded, curtly.

“Dare say we can fit you in. Assuming you’ve got ten shillings between you.” Rudi’s dismayed expression was all the answer he needed. He jerked a thumb towards a door in the far corner. “You can have a mattress in the common room for five pence.”

“We’ll take two,” Rudi said, determined not to lose any more face, and he was acutely conscious of Hanna’s sensibilities. Another thought occurred to him, and he added, “we’ve got some pelts to sell if you know anyone who might be interested.” The landlord shrugged.

“Depends what they are. Hubert might be in later on, he deals in that sort of thing. I’ll send him over to your table.”

“Thank you.” Rudi turned and spotted a vacant booth on the far side of the room. “We’ll be over there when the food’s ready.”

“Fine.” The landlord scratched his nose. “What do you want me to tell him you’ve got?”

“Rabbits mostly. And a wolf.” The landlord and his cronies laughed again, loud and raucous.

“Wolf. Yeah, right, I’ll tell him.”

“You do that.” Hanna’s lips were a thin line now. Before Rudi could stop her she hefted the bundle of pelts onto the top of the bar, and unrolled it. “And don’t forget to tell him it was a big one.”

Conversation around the bar came to an abrupt halt, although the babble of voices at the tables continued in the background. All eyes were fixed on the wolf pelt. The landlord cleared his throat.

“Yes miss. I’ll do that.” He glanced at Rudi with renewed respect. “I’ve never seen one that size before.”

“By Grungni’s beard! A greenskin mount!” A short, squat man, wider and more muscular than Rudi had ever seen peered over the bar at the skin. His face was almost hidden by luxuriant facial hair. He wore a metal helm and a chainmail shirt, and he barely came up to Hanna’s shoulder. “What became of the rider?”

“Dead.” Hanna didn’t elaborate. Rudi shrugged.

“He’d hardly have let us skin it otherwise, would he?” The dwarf bellowed with laughter and clapped Rudi on the back, making him stagger.

“By the iron of the earth, manling, you do your race credit.” He turned to the landlord. “Three more pots of that vile fluid you have the gall to call ale, and the choicest viands your miserable excuse for a kitchen can provide for my young friends here. This is a tale I must hear!” He seized the handles of the tankards in one ham-like hand, and ploughed his way back through the crowd towards a table in the middle of the room. There were other folk there, all human so far as Rudi could tell. He turned to face Hanna as he rolled the pelts up.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” To his surprise she nodded.

“Yes. If anyone’s looking out for us they’ll be expecting to see two people. If we’re part of a group we won’t be noticed.”

“Good point.” He laced the bundle together. “But we don’t know this… person.”

“Dwarf,” Hanna corrected. “I’ve read about them.”

Rudi considered this. He’d heard of the race before, of course, they’d been allies of Sigmar, but he’d never expected to meet one in the flesh. From everything Father Antrobus had said they were trustworthy enough. And they could hardly refuse so kind an invitation without drawing more attention to themselves. He shrugged, and followed their new friend back to his table.

“Sit down, sit down!” The dwarf heaved a couple of packs from the bench along one side of the table, heedless of the hard stares of his companions, and motioned them forward again. Rudi slid into it, leaving Hanna perched on the end, to find himself sitting next to a slender woman in britches and a travelling cloak. Her hair was red, and her eyes green; she looked at him for a moment with an air of mild interest, before leaning around him to smile warmly at Hanna.

“Alwyn,” she said. “And how may I call you?”

“Hanna.” The girl looked mildly flustered for a moment, and Rudi felt he was missing something. There was no time to think about it, though, because the man opposite was looking him over with a sardonic expression, which reminded him of Magnus. His hair was black, but flecked with grey almost the same shade as his eyes. Like most of his companions he wore a well-used cloak over travelling clothes, which bore plenty of evidence of hard wear. He had a sword scabbarded at his hip, and the hilt was worn with much use.

“So,” he said at last. “Bodun says you’ve a tale to tell.” There were a couple of others at the table too, hard-eyed men who under other circumstances would have made him distinctly nervous, but somehow Rudi could tell that they would take their lead from this fellow and the dwarf. He nodded.

“So he tells me,” he said, relieved to hear friendly laughter rippling round the table.

“You can’t tell a story with empty hands,” Bodun said, handing one of the tankards he’d collected from the bar to him, and another to Hanna. Mindful of the dwarf’s scathing opinion of the brew on offer Rudi sipped cautiously at it, but found it palatable enough. Something of his confusion must have shown on his face, as the man opposite smiled.

“He’s always rude about the beer. It’s a dwarf thing.”

“I suppose it’s passable enough for a manling brew.” Bodun emptied his tankard in a couple of swallows, and belched loudly. “But once you’ve had Bugman’s…”

“You can’t stop talking about it,” one of the other men said, to the general amusement of the group. He seemed to be the youngest, being barely older than Rudi, although his eyes seemed to hold a wealth of experience. A thin straggle of hopeful beard, the same blonde hue as his hair, clung to his face, not quite hiding a ragged scar across his right cheek. Bodun snorted.

“Unlike the endless fascination of your monologues on the charms of certain young ladies…” He broke off, laughing, as the young man kicked him under the table.

“You have to admit they’re imaginative,” the other man broke in. His hair was brown, like his eyes, and his clothing was as nondescript as his features. “Uncontaminated as they are by any actual experience…” He dodged aside as the young man tried to elbow him in the ribs, and patted him condescendingly on the head. “Nice try, Bruno. Nearly got me that time.”

“Leave him alone,” Alwyn said, leaning across to ruffle the young man’s hair. “You were young once, remember?”

“Never that young,” the older man replied. Alwyn grinned, her face lit up with mirth.

“I don’t know. I seem to remember an incident with a barmaid in Nuln…”

“That was before I even met you! How could you possibly know about that?”

“Dwarfs have long memories.” She grinned at Bodun. “And a talent for tale-telling…”

“Whatever he told you, he was making it up.” Rudi couldn’t fathom what was going on. These people seemed to be quarrelling, but without any heat. It was almost as if they enjoyed needling each other.

“You’ll have to excuse my companions,” the leader said. “They were all brought up in a barn somewhere.” Bodun hurrumphed loudly. “Except for the dwarf, who we found down a hole.”

“And a very comfortable hole it was too,” Bodun put in. “Apart from the greenskins infesting it.”

“Who would have been dancing on your corpse if Conrad and I hadn’t happened to be passing,” the leader added.

“Happened to be looting the damn place you mean.” Bodun smiled widely. “Luckily there was enough to go round, so I didn’t have to kill you too.”

“Quite.” The leader grinned at Rudi, and indicated the brown-haired man. “That’s Conrad. He and I go way back. I’m Krieger, by the way, but you can call me Theo.”

“Rudi.” He stuck out a hand, which Theo shook. “That’s Hanna, my sister.” They might as well stick to the same story, he supposed. Theo nodded, as though filing the information away somewhere. His expression remained neutral.

“Alwyn’s introduced herself already, and that’s Bruno.” The young man smiled at Hanna, and nodded.

“Pleased to meet you, miss.”

“Likewise.” Hanna smiled in return. Theo continued.

“Allie tags along because for some reason she thinks Conrad’s worth looking after, and Bruno we sort of adopted.” Rudi glanced at the three of them, noting the way Alwyn and Conrad’s eyes met, and the matching rings on the third fingers of their left hands.

“Adopted?” he asked, unsure quite why the word held so much resonance for him. Perhaps Bruno was another foundling like himself. Bruno nodded.

“My family had a smallholding in the Drakwald. Beastmen attacked it, and I was the only survivor.” Darkness had entered his wide blue eyes now, like a thunderhead on a bright summer day. “I was twelve. Luckily Captain Krieger happened along, and saw them off before they finished…” He picked up his tankard and drained it. “Who wants another?” He stood abruptly.

“Everyone, lad,” Bodun said. “I’ll help you get them in.” He stood up, and accompanied the young man back to the bar.

“They were going to sacrifice him,” Alwyn said. Her voice took on an edge of loathing. “To some Chaos thing. We’ve been looking after him ever since.”

“He can look after himself well enough,” Conrad added. He leaned closer across the table. “Not a good person to get on the wrong side of. He’d kill you in a heartbeat.”

“That’s enough, Conrad,” Theo said. “We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

“More like family,” Conrad said. He looked at Rudi and Hanna, the ruse of amiable idiocy slipping for a moment. “I remember when I was like you, just starting out in the world. I was sure I’d never need anyone else. Take my word for it, you do. And choose them carefully.”

“I’ll remember that,” Rudi said.

“Now lad,” Bodun said, dropping another tankard of ale in front of Rudi, “tell us all about how you took down the wolfboy.”

“There wasn’t much to it really,” Rudi began, sipping at the ale again. To his vague surprise he found most of it had gone already, so he accepted the refill Bruno passed him with gratitude. “We’d camped for the night in a copse on the moorland, and…”

“You came across country?” Theo looked curious. “Why not use the road?”

“It seemed more direct,” Hanna said, a little too casually. “And Rudi thought we’d have better hunting that way.”

“You’d meet fewer people too,” Conrad added thoughtfully. “Not a good idea if you ran into trouble.”

“These two look as though they can take care of themselves,” the dwarf put in. “If they saw off a greenskin scout…”

“He was dead when we found him,” Rudi explained, eager to change the subject. “Slain by sorcery, we thought.” Something told him it was best not to mention the rest of the warband. “The wolf just wandered into our camp, so I shot it.”

“He took it down with a single arrow,” Hanna put in, sensing a slight air of disappointment around the table. “While it was charging at me.”

“It charged you?” Alwyn stared at Hanna in astonishment. Hanna nodded.

“Jaws open, slobber foaming around its mouth, I swear I could see right down its throat…” The whole party around the table leaned imperceptibly forward. Rudi picked up his cue. If they wanted a dramatic story then by Sigmar he’d give them one.

“I’d been washing in the stream nearby, so I didn’t have the bow with me. I thought I wasn’t going to make it back in time, but Hanna threw a stone at it, which made it flinch. It was only a split second, but that was enough.”

“Aye.” Theo nodded. “In combat it makes all the difference.”

“I snatched up the bow, and grabbed an arrow. I knew I’d only get time for a single shot. I didn’t even have time to aim, but somehow when I drew the bow I knew just when to loose.”

“I know that feeling.” Conrad nodded and Rudi noticed a bow propped up against the table next to him. “As though the gods are telling you the shot can’t miss.”

“Exactly.” Rudi nodded. “My father was a forester, so I’ve been shooting for as long as I can remember, but I’ve never been surer of a shot in my life.”

“It took the wolf right in the throat,” Hanna said. “And it dropped like a stone. But it was moving so fast it kept rolling towards me. I thought it was going to knock me over anyway, but it stopped just in front of me. I was petrified!”

“I’m not surprised.” Bruno leaned across the table and patted her hand sympathetically. Hanna pulled it away, to his barely-concealed chagrin. Rudi was surprised to feel a surge of satisfaction at that.

“Your father’s dead then?” Theo asked. Rudi swallowed, unsure how to answer, but Hanna stepped in first.

“Mother too.” Her voice quavered a little, and Alwyn squeezed her other hand for a moment. This time Hanna seemed willing to accept the gesture. “So we thought it was time we made a fresh start.”

“I see.” Theo nodded again, evidently satisfied by this. “At least you have each other.”

“Are you going anywhere in particular?” Bruno asked, seemingly addressing Hanna directly. The girl nodded.

“Kallcaat. Then maybe Marienburg, if we can find a boat willing to take us.”

“Marienburg?” Conrad exchanged a glance with Alwyn. “You might want to think twice about that. The city can be a rough place if you don’t know it.” His wife nodded.

“Stick to the small towns for a while, that’s my advice.” She glanced at Hanna again. “If you’re determined to go to the city, head upstream instead. You’ll get a better reception in Altdorf if I’m any judge.”

“Why Altdorf?” Rudi asked, once again feeling that he was missing something. Alwyn looked as though she was about to say something else, but then she glanced around at the crowded taproom and appeared to change her mind.

“No reason,” she said. Any further questions Rudi might have had were swiftly deflected by the arrival of a young woman whose lavish d�colletage seemed to capture Bruno’s attention almost as fully as the platters of food in her hands captured the rest of the party. Rudi’s stomach was growling loudly. Absently he noticed his ale tankard was empty again.

“Eat hearty, manling!” Bodun grabbed a haunch of meat from the nearest plate, and began to demonstrate. “And drink! More ale, my lovely!” The tavern girl winked at Bruno, who seemed to inflate. She slipped away to comply with the request.

“A toast!” The dwarf hoisted his tankard. “To Rudi Wolfbane!” The others laughed, but went along with it, echoing the call.

“Young Wolfbane!”

Rudi grinned widely. Whether it was from the closeness of the taproom, the unaccustomed quantity of ale he was drinking, or the richness of the food piled up in front of him he couldn’t say, but he became suffused by a sense of wellbeing stronger than any he could recall. Even Hanna was smiling at him. He hoisted the tankard Bodun had refilled from a fresh flagon delivered by the tavern girl.

“And to Krieger’s company,” he replied. “Good friends well met.” A gratifying chorus of approbation rose in response. He settled back on the bench, turning his attention to the food, and felt that a night as good as this should go on forever.