01 - Death's Messenger Read online

  “Leave him alone!” Fritz bellowed, outraged at his brother’s distress. A vivid burst of light and pain erupted at the side of Rudi’s head as the half-wit swung his own fist. Carried away on the tide of complex emotions triggered by his apparent easy victory Rudi had momentarily forgotten his presence, a lapse for which he looked like paying dearly. Half stunned he staggered and fell to one knee, which sank into the mud of the street.

  “Who do you think you are?” Hans had recovered enough breath by now to start hurling insults at least. He staggered towards Rudi, who was still trying to blink his vision clear. “Some half-savage forest brat with the nerve to attack civilised people?” He aimed a vicious kick at the fallen forester, catching him in the chest. Rudi felt a moment of searing pain as the thin flesh over his ribs bruised.

  “If you’re civilised then I’m an elf,” a familiar feminine voice cut in, edged with habitual contempt for the object of its address. In spite of the pain he was in, Rudi groaned quietly. Of all the people who could have seen him brawling in the street, of course it had to be her…

  “What?” Hans turned, clearly astonished at the intervention. Hanna Reifenstal gazed at him levelly, as though she’d just found him on the sole of her shoe.

  “You’re no more civilised than an orc,” she said dismissively. “I’m sure they think two against one is about right as well.”

  “We can always make it two against two, girly.” Hans’ face had turned truly ugly by now, animated by a malice far deeper than mere petty bullying. However, if he’d expected her to quail, or run, he’d seriously underestimated her.

  “Don’t do me any favours,” her voice dripped contempt, and lazy confidence. “You can both try your luck if you’re really desperate to get hurt.” For a moment, as Rudi staggered to his feet, he thought she’d gone too far, and that Hans might be so far gone as to attack her. Aching muscles twanging in protest he stumbled forwards, intending to block the bully’s rush towards the girl, but it wasn’t necessary. As Hans took a step in her direction his brother grabbed him by the arm to hold him back.

  “No, Hans,” he pleaded. “She’ll put a curse on you or something.” Some residue of common sense evidently remained in Hans’ head, because he hesitated for a moment before shrugging his brother’s hand away.

  “What would be the point?” Hanna asked rhetorically. “He’s cursed enough already.”

  “Why should I care what a witch thinks?” Hans snarled, determined to vent his rage verbally if denied the opportunity to do so with his fists. Hanna flushed dangerously.

  “If that’s what you really think I am you should be a lot more careful about what you say to me,” she snapped, taking a single step forward. Fritz whimpered like a frightened puppy, his face paler than ever, and tugged at his brother’s arm with renewed insistence.

  “Quite right.” Rudi pulled himself upright, determined not to let the brothers think they’d hurt him. He stood as solidly and casually as he could despite the throbbing pain in his head and the ache in his ribcage. “If you think you’re so civilised you should know how to be polite to a lady.”

  “If I see one I will.” Hans was clearly torn between the impulse to continue the confrontation and the growing caution his brother’s insistence was beginning to instil in him. If Fritz had backed him up he might have had the confidence to prolong the fight, but the half-wit was clearly terrified of the girl’s reputation, so he’d have no help there.

  “You wouldn’t recognise one if she stepped on you crossing the gutter,” Hanna retorted. She switched her attention to Fritz, who quailed visibly. “Take him home before he embarrasses himself even more.”

  “Come on,” Fritz pulled harder on his brother’s arm, starting him moving at last. With a final venomous glare the older Katzenjammer allowed himself to be led away, clearly feeling enough face had been saved by letting his sibling be the one to urge retreat. Rudi watched them go with a sense of triumph, which even managed to displace the discomfort of his injuries for a while. He’d done it: he’d bested the Katzenjammers…

  “Are you all right?” Hanna asked, breaking into his thoughts. “You took a couple of nasty hits by the look of it.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, his good mood evaporating almost as rapidly as it had arrived. “Thank you,” he added belatedly. Around them the regular traffic of the street had resumed, with upwards of half a dozen villagers bustling about their business now that the impromptu entertainment was over.

  “You’re welcome,” she responded, with a smile, which for once had a trace of genuine warmth in it. “I could hardly stand by and watch you get beaten to a pulp now, could I?”

  “What?” Rudi felt his face flushing. He’d thought she’d been enquiring about his injuries, like a conscientious healer should, and now it turned out she had the arrogance to believe that she’d rescued him from the Katzenjammers. While a part of him acknowledged that without her intervention he would have had a much harder fight on his hands, the small voice of reason was brushed aside by a simmering tide of resentment. As if he needed the protection of some slip of a girl, particularly this one. “I could have taken them both without your interference, you know.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you could.” The trace of unaccustomed warmth vanished from her smile and voice like the glimmer of sunshine on a midwinter morning, to be replaced by the familiar sneer. “You were really damaging Fritz’s fist with your face.”

  “I didn’t mean…” he trailed off, not quite sure what he did mean, but aware that he was being churlish again. “I appreciate your help. Really.”

  “Really?” Her voice dripped with scepticism. “Nice of you to notice. If you want a poultice for that bruising, I’m sure my mother can sort something out.” Abruptly she turned and walked away, her shoulders set. Rudi watched her go, confusion mingling with the fuzziness in his head from the blow it had taken. He couldn’t for the life of him see what she was so upset about. He shrugged, noticing for the first time that a faint sweetness still lingered in the air from the satchel of herbs she’d been carrying.

  As Hanna turned the corner of the street and disappeared he thought for a moment that she was about to turn and look at him. He half-raised his arm in a farewell wave, but she walked on without a backward glance.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Burgomeister Steiner was a large, florid man with the beginnings of a double chin and a taste for overly ornate waistcoats. Unlike Magnus he was a stickler for the distinctions of social rank, so there was no question of Rudi being treated like a guest in his house. The young messenger simply knocked at the elaborately carved door of the Steiner mansion, handed the note to the liveried manservant who answered it, and loitered outside in response to the peremptory request to wait until it became clear whether an answer was required. After a few moments the door creaked open again, and Rudi peeled himself away from the wall he’d been leaning on and tried to look attentive.

  “So you’re young Walder.” To his surprise it was the burgomeister himself standing there, not the servant. Dumbstruck, Rudi nodded, unsure of the correct way to address so illustrious a person. He knew Steiner by sight of course, everyone in Kohlstadt did, but he had never been spoken to by the man before, and had never expected to be. “Do you have a moment?”

  “Of course.” A moment for what? Surely he wasn’t supposed to enter the burgomeister’s house?

  Apparently not. Steiner came out to meet him, staying in the shelter of the porch. His eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun like one of the gargoyles perched on a finial above his head.

  “Is there a reply?” Rudi asked after a moment, taking his best guess at the reason for the burgomeister’s interest. Steiner shook his head.

  “No. The note was simply to inform me that certain items I ordered from Herr von Blackenburg have now arrived.” Rudi surmised that these were more fancy waistcoats. “I just wanted to meet the young man who so valiantly warned us of the peril we face.”

  “I didn’t really do
anything,” Rudi said, unsure of how to respond. “And I’m not sure there is much of a peril anymore.” Steiner’s dark eyes glittered with an intelligence that was at odds with his indolent exterior.

  “Your father and Sergeant Littman are of a similar mind. They believe the beastmen to have gone in search of easier pickings than our stoutly-defended little community.” He broke off and gazed at Rudi, taking in his dishevelled appearance for the first time. “What happened to your face?”

  “I got kicked by a boar,” Rudi said, hardly inclined to discuss his morning’s adventures with someone in authority. Steiner looked sceptical, but let it go.

  “I see.” He gathered his thoughts with an effort. “I wanted to ask what you thought.”

  “Me?” Rudi felt confused for a moment. “What more could I tell you?”

  “You’d be surprised.” For a moment the trace of a smile appeared on Steiner’s face. Rudi remembered that despite appearances the burgomeister had a sharp and incisive mind. “You’re observant, and you know the forest well.”

  Rudi felt his head begin to spin, and for a moment assumed it was the after-effects of Fritz’s punch. Then it hit him. The most powerful man in the village wanted his advice. For as long as the current emergency lasted, he would have the acceptance and status in the community he had always longed for. Perhaps it was that reflection which shaped his reply.

  “My father and Sergeant Littman know far more about these things than me, and if they say the beastmen are gone then they probably are,” he began. “But I’ve been thinking. All the stories say they live purely for killing and plunder. If they really have moved on, why haven’t we heard about raids elsewhere in the valley?”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Steiner nodded, a pleased expression on his face. “It seems to me that they’re biding their time, waiting for us to grow complacent. And unfortunately we might have to relax our precautions a little earlier than I would consider prudent.”

  “Why’s that?” Rudi asked, before realising what he had done. Appalled at his own temerity for addressing the burgomeister as an equal he felt the breath constrict in his throat for a moment. Then he realised that, far from being outraged, Steiner was smiling again.

  “A very astute question. I can see I was right about you.” He hesitated for a moment. “And let me answer it with a question of my own. You run a great many errands for Herr von Blackenburg, do you not?”

  “Yes, I do.” Rudi nodded hesitantly, reluctant to discuss his work for Magnus with anyone else. The merchant had always said he valued his discretion. “But his business affairs…”

  “Are no concern of mine,” Steiner reassured him. “But you deliver messages for him all over the valley, or so he tells me.”

  “That’s right.” Rudi nodded again. Steiner continued, pursuing the point.

  “So you would see more of what goes on in the district than almost anyone.”

  “I suppose so.” Rudi had never considered the matter before, but it seemed a reasonable assumption. “I get about quite a bit.”

  “Good.” Steiner lowered his voice a little, even though a quick glance up and down the street was enough to show that there was no one else within earshot. “And have you noticed anything unusual in the last few weeks?”

  “Unusual in what way?” Rudi asked. Steiner shook his head.

  “I don’t want to put any ideas in your head that aren’t there already.”

  “Well then.” Rudi shrugged. “Some of the fields are looking a little sickly. The livestock too.” Several of the farms had been hit by cabbage blight in the last couple of weeks, and only yesterday the Heimdahls had been complaining that their milk cow had dried up for no apparent reason.

  “Sickly.” His choice of words evidently had some resonance for the burgomeister, as he repeated it thoughtfully. “And the people?”

  “Tired, I suppose. Some of them, anyway.” Rudi said.

  “Sickly too, you might say?” Steiner looked intently at Rudi as he considered the question.

  “You might say that,” he conceded. Steiner looked thoughtful, as though his worst fear had been confirmed. Then he came to a decision. He reached into the pouch at his belt, and produced a sealed note and a couple of coppers.

  “I’d be very much obliged,” he said, “if you could take this note to Greta Reifenstal. As quickly as possible.” Rudi felt his mouth go dry. Of all the destinations he might have been dispatched to, the Reifenstal’s cottage was pretty close to the last place in the Empire he would have chosen. Particularly now. But maybe Hanna wouldn’t be there, and it did seem important.

  “I’ll do it now,” he said, hoping he wouldn’t regret it.

  To his thinly disguised dismay, it was indeed Hanna who opened the door of the Reifenstal’s cottage in answer to his reluctant knock. It wasn’t the first time he had been there of course, there was the evening he’d run to fetch Greta after his father had stumbled back to their hut bleeding from the wounds he’d sustained from his fight with the boar. But most of the time he avoided the place, so walking up to it in daylight was a strange sensation. The general shape of the building was familiar, it was not so different from a score of other cottages in the hinterland around the village despite its proximity to the forest, although some fresh details were revealed as he approached it.

  The most obvious feature was the neatly tended rows of plants around the door, chosen, he supposed, for their medicinal properties as they were generally far from ornamental. Occasionally, as he passed by in the distance, he had seen Greta tending them, her habitual headscarf bright against the vegetation and the dull brown walls of her home. He had hoped to find her out of doors this time, but the garden around the house had been empty when he approached it, so with a heavy heart he had steeled himself to knock. A couple of scrawny chickens pecked hopefully in the dirt around his feet as he rapped his fist against the worn timber.

  “What do you want?” Hanna asked as she opened the door. A half smile of welcome dropped from her face like a stone down a well. Then she seemed to recollect something. “Changed your mind about that poultice?”

  “No, I’m fine,” Rudi began curtly, before recalling that she had tried to help him earlier, and deserved some gratitude for that. “Thank you. I have a message for your mother.” He held up the sealed note like a talisman, hoping to impress her.

  “Oh.” Hanna glanced at the crest embossed into the sealing wax. Then she turned and called into the gloom behind her. “It’s a letter from Steiner.” Before Rudi could register his shock at hearing her refer to the burgomeister in such a familiar tone the girl had turned back to him. “I suppose you’d better come in.”

  Rudi wasn’t sure what he expected to discover as he followed her across the threshold, but was vaguely surprised to find himself being conducted into a bright and cheerful room quite at odds with the vague idea he had of noisome potions and strange rituals.

  There was a large wooden table, freshly scrubbed, which evidently did double duty for eating and preparing herbal remedies judging by the two bowls containing the residue of stew at one end, and the collection of dried herbs laid out at the other. Yellow curtains fluttered in the breeze from the unshuttered windows, and a couple of carved wooden chairs with brightly patterned patchwork cushions stood next to the fireplace. Despite the summer warmth a blaze was roaring away in it, heating a brass cauldron suspended from a hook on a chain. Rudi felt the sweat start out on his face almost at once. Hanna and Greta, who was busily stirring some concoction inside the vessel, seemed scarcely aware of it.

  “Hello, young man,” Greta greeted him cheerfully and stood, handing the spoon to her daughter as she did so, and wiped her hands on her apron. Hanna took her place beside the fire and resumed the slow agitation of the bubbling liquid. “What’s this all about?”

  “I don’t know.” Rudi handed her the letter, and watched with barely concealed curiosity as she broke the seal and unfolded it. Surrounded by the accoutrements of her profession, Greta
made the act of reading seem more magical than ever. Bottles and jars of substances he couldn’t identify stood on the shelves of an old wooden dresser, next to an icon of Shallya, the goddess of healing, that had been mounted in a curious frame of gently curving arcs. There were flowers in vases there too, which seemed to serve no practical purpose.

  “Hmm.” Greta read on, looking thoughtful. Gradually the lines of a frown began to etch themselves on her forehead. Whatever the note contained, the news was surely not good.

  “Here. Make yourself useful.” Hanna turned from the fire to face Rudi, and gestured to a large earthenware pot sitting on the table next to the herbs. A square of muslin lay beside it. “Put the cloth over the bowl for me.”

  Baffled, Rudi picked up the piece of material and did as she instructed, covering the opening of the pot.

  “Good. Now hold it in place.” Hanna lifted the bubbling cauldron off the hook above the fire and carried it over to the table. Wafts of sweet-smelling steam escaped the surface, pleasantly tickling the back of Rudi’s nose as she approached.

  “What do I do now?” he asked, trying to mask the edge of apprehension, which was doing its best to nudge its way into his voice.

  “Nothing. Just stand there and try not to get burned.” She was probably joking, he told himself, but this was Hanna after all, and it was hard to be sure. She tilted the cauldron carefully, pouring the liquid it contained into the slight depression in the middle of the cloth. For a moment Rudi thought it was going to spill. He fought down the impulse to flinch, but after a moment the fluid found the pores of the material and began to flow through it, leaving behind a residue of scum and what looked like fragments of leaf and tree bark.

  “Very good,” Greta had approached the table unnoticed, as he remained intent on the delicate task. “Maybe you’ve missed your vocation.”