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

afraid,”
Gerling said, alluding to his first encounter with Thal.
    “I was afraid. That’s why I had to take it
from you,” Thal explained.
    Gerling chuckled. “Most practical of
you.”
    The men showed Thal how to load the guns, but
they did not fire them. Gunpowder was hard to come by and not to be
wasted.
    Thal watched with envy as the men lovingly
put their weapons in their wagons. Most people in camp had
noticeably cleaned and organized their possessions and were
packing.
    “Where will we move to?” Thal wondered.
    Andreli shrugged. Whatever direction he had
in mind he had not revealed to anyone yet. “You’re always so full
of questions,” he said.
    “I have much to learn,” Thal said.
    “You’ve mastered losing at cards,” Andreli
noted.
    “You told me to lose.”
    “I know. It makes our guests happy so they’ll
bring back more coin and play again. But hold back tonight. Give us
a chance to clean them out. We must bring in our harvest before we
move on,” Andreli explained.
    Thal understood. He felt bad about
squandering coin even if it was part of Andreli’s plan. He would
try to restrain his play as directed, but he felt edgy and inclined
to action. A craving for excitement nagged at him.
    At dusk Captain Jan showed up with Lucas and
another companion named Gruder. They were keen to gamble and did
not waste time with the dancing girls.
    The pleasant weather drew out a couple dozen
people from the village, mostly young men but also some young
married couples who browsed the few oddities for sale. Lanterns
were strung between several wagons and singing and dancing ensued.
The gamblers were ensconced away from the noise on rugs by
Andreli’s wagon. Jan had brought bottles of wine and was kind
enough to share.
    Thal enjoyed the strong fruity drink. As the
alcohol relaxed him he realized that he was nervous. The round moon
glimmering like an opal in the purplish sky kept drawing his
attention. In another life he had howled his songs and listened to
the chorus of his pack. In his mind he could almost hear the wolves
far back in the hills. He tried to push away the thought. His
broken heart still bled for his forsaken kin, but he was a man now
and had new concerns.
    A flush of heat coursed through his body.
With a shrug he eased his fur off one shoulder and tried to
concentrate on the cards. He had a deuce and a four of different
suits. When his turn to bet came, he folded.
    “Not so eager for cards tonight?” Jan
inquired, a touch disappointed.
    “Everyone folds sometimes,” Thal said.
    “He needs to save a few coppers to get back
on the road to Rome,” Andreli said.
    “How did I forget your pilgrimage?” Jan said
and shook his head.
    Indifferent to Jan’s snide attitude about his
reason for passing through the area, Thal watched the next round of
betting. Three men stayed in the hand. After two more cards were
dealt, Jan knocked out, satisfied with the potency of his hand. His
companion folded but Andreli called Jan’s bet and drew more cards
before knocking. The two men then had to reveal their hands.
    “Christ on a stick!” Andreli swore and turned
away in disgust. His hand scored high, but Jan had a fluxus.
    Laughing, Jan pulled in the coin pile. “I’ll
have to remember to leave you enough coin so you don’t have to beg
your way out of Rosenberg lands,” Jan said.
    “The night is young,” Andreli grumbled.
    Jan mollified his opponent with more wine.
Small pots and unmemorable hands filled the next hour, and the men
were content to chat and drink, but gradually the competition
intensified. Thal started betting more aggressively. After he won
three pots in a row, the men from the castle backed off.
    “Someone’s been coaching you,” Lucas
said.
    “I’d like to think I’m able to learn from my
mistakes,” Thal said cheerily. He stacked up his coins. The cool
metal clinking within his sensitive fingertips was pleasing. He
ignored Andreli’s questioning look.
    Now that Thal