Mathias Thulmann 2 - Witch Finder by Warhammer

Author:Warhammer [Warhammer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Fiction, Fantasy, General, Epic
ISBN: 9781844161614
Publisher: Games Workshop
Published: 2005-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Mathias Thulmann found Streng waiting for him just outside the alchemist’s shop. The bearded thug had even less of a taste for magic than the witch hunter. Thulmann supposed that it might be another reason why the man had entered his employ. The foremost, of course, being the Temple’s gold. There was a keen look in Streng’s eyes that Thulmann recognised as agitated excitement. Clearly Streng believed he had found a worthy subject for his barbarous talents.

“You have the demeanour of the orc that swallowed the halfling,” Thulmann commented. The mercenary detached himself from the wall he leant on. He still moved stiffly, Thulmann noted, but at least the colour had returned to his face. Either he was somewhat improved or had managed to slither his way into a tavern on his way from the chapter house. Either possibility was equally likely.

“They caught one of my plague doktors,” Streng grinned. “That young templar, Emil. Had a bit of trouble bringing him in, but they got him.” Thulmann digested the report.

“Has he said anything?” he asked. “We don’t know that this fellow is one of those we want. There might be any number of thieves and charlatans posing as plague doktors as well as Weichs and his scum.”

Streng gripped Thulmann’s shoulder, forcing the witch hunter to stop. “You’re certain it’s Weichs then?” he demanded. Thulmann gave a solemn nod.

“The alchemist found traces of warpstone burned into the glass of that bottle you found. We followed Weichs’ trail to Wurtbad and now we find men posing as healers using warpstone. It does not take an overly analytical mind to accept that two and two make four.”

“Makes sense at that,” Streng agreed. He hurried to match pace with the witch hunter as Thulmann walked down the street. What little traffic there was parted before the templar. Thulmann wondered if it was the natural trepidation people felt in the presence of such grim agents of justice, or testament to the contempt and fear they felt towards Meisser’s methods. He realised sadly that it was most likely the latter.

“Captain Meisser,” Thulmann said, “has he caused any more trouble?” Streng shook his head.

“No,” the mercenary laughed. “Hasn’t showed his face. Still skulking in his room. Don’t suppose you could ask old Sigmar to make that weasel stay there until after we leave?”

Thulmann chose to ignore his associate’s casual blasphemy. “This plague doktor Brother Emil apprehended, has he said anything?” he returned to the topic at hand.

“Just the usual nonsense about being innocent,” Streng replied. “We’ve got the wrong man and all that. Never mind the fact that he tried to gut Emil with a fair-sized pigsticker, or that he’s got pasty green stuff oozing out of the bullet hole Emil put in his shoulder.” Streng grinned again. “Fair number of pint-sized tentacles, too, wriggling round his armpits. Be a bit of fun pulling those out.”

Thulmann sighed. His henchman’s enthusiasm for the more violent aspects of his employment often troubled him, perhaps more so than the deeds themselves.

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