Genevieve, he had heard, had come to live with what she was. Like the other Wolf and Eric, she did not fear the beast inside. Wolf felt an urge to run after her, to talk with her further. There was something he should learn from the vampire.

The fog grew thicker, clinging to his clothes. Even Trudi was hard to see. He breathed in the cold, tasting weirdroot as the air rushed over his tongue. The dreams were in his blood by now.

There were shapes in the fog. He could see them now. They called to him.

'Wolf?'

Trudi seemed a long way in the distance, shouting to him as if he were at the top of the highest mountain in the Empire.

There were colours in the grey fog. And music.

His feet were uncomfortable, confined in their heavy boots, the toenails pressed into flesh, the toes constricted. Pain and strength mingled in his limbs.

'Wolf?'

He was Wolf and he was not Wolf. The taste of the blood was still in the air.

The girl tugged at his sleeve. A burst of anger exploded inside him.

Hissing, he turned on the girl, his sharp-fingered hand lashing out

III.

'I think that's why they call him Filthy Harald,' someone said.

He turned around, throwing-knife in his hand. Two men had come into the warehouse, one in his early thirties, the other ten years younger. They didn't make him feel sick on sight, so they were probably all right.

'You have shit on your boots, sir,' said the older man. He wore his green velvet cloak as if born to it. A courtier.

He shrugged and sheathed his knife. He saw no threat from the two newcomers.

'I was just beating it out of someone,' he snarled.

The gentleman in velvet and the off-duty watchman looked at each other and shrugged.

He let them hang for a moment, then explained, 'Someone has to clear out the sewer inlets when they get blocked. It's part of my contract with the Reik and Talabec.'

He wiped his boots on a rough mat. He would have to sluice them off properly later.

The gentleman looked a little upset. But he didn't wrinkle his nose in distaste. He was rich and probably titled, but he was not queasy about messy realities. Harald knew that this was not a typical court popinjay. If it came to a fight, the courtier would take quite a bit of killing.

'Well,' said Harald, 'what can I do for you?'

'We have a commission,' said the aristocrat.

Harald didn't say anything. He took a wet rag from a hook on the wall and wiped the last of the dirt from his boots.

'This is Baron Johann von Mecklenberg, the Elector of Sudenland,' said the officer.

Harald didn't bow and scrape. It wasn't his style.

'How is Dickon?' he asked.

'What?'

'Dickon. Is he still captain of the Dock Watch?'

The youth was astounded.

'You've got the copper smell, boy. It can't be mistaken.'

'I'm Helmut Elsaesser. And I am from the Dock Watch.'

Harald didn't like the feeling that he was being called upon to demonstrate his skills, like a conjurer at a children's party.

'You have sharp eyes, thief-taker,' said the baron.

Harald nodded, agreeing with him.

'Dickon is still captain.'

'I'm sure he's the best money can buy.'

The boy laughed. He was all right.

The baron looked around the warehouse. Goods were piled up, with chalk marks on the boxes to indicate their eventual destination. Room and board came with the job. A cot in a cupboard and three company meals a day. You could call it a life.

'You used to be with the watch?'

'Yes, baron. Used to be.'

Harald's boots would pass. He looked up at his visitors. They had brought a little of the fog with them. Outside, it would be cold, difficult. Ideal weather for cutpurses, pimps, pickpockets and ruffians. Bad weather for coppers.

'I understand you resigned.'

Harald spat out a short laugh.

'That's what you heard.'

Elsaesser was passing a document from hand to hand.

'They say you were the best copper in Altdorf.'

'I'd heard that too.'

'But not recently.'

Harald sat down. A pot of tea was stewing on the small table.

'I'm in the mercantile business now. I've retired to make my fortune.'

'By unblocking sewers?'

'And catching pilferers, and stock-taking and sweeping the place out if I have to.'

Without being asked, the baron sat down at the table. Elsaesser stayed upright, like a dutiful footman. He was clutching his document as if it were a charm blessed of Verena. Harald saw the Imperial seal. He wasn't impressed. He'd seen it before.

'Quite a descent in the world.'

'You could look at it that way, baron. A man should make the best of his circumstances. Whatever they are.'

He had been with the Reik and Talabec Trading Company for three years now and he couldn't think of the first names of the merchants who employed him.

'I've heard stories about your resignation.'

'You can take your pick of them.'

'What's your story?'

Harald didn't see why he should go through all this again. But it was expected of him.

'I killed a man. Several, in fact. But one in particular.'

'Ulli von Tasseninck.'

Harald remembered. The weight of the knife in his hand. The arc of the throw. The satisfying thud of impact.

'You knew him, elector. I'm not surprised.'

'The nephew of Grand Prince Hals von Tasseninck, Elector of Ostland.'

'Yes, a distinguished family.'

The young man, a corpse already, taking five more steps then crumpling onto the flagstones. It had been a neat job. No blood spilled.

'And a powerful one.'

'Show me an elector who is not powerful. You should know.'

Harald poured himself a mug of tea. He did not offer any to his visitors.

'Couldn't you have used a little more tact? Ulli was headstrong, yes, but he was born to the green velvet.'

Harald felt his bile rising and gulped down tea to calm his stomach.

'Baron, I saw a naked man chasing a girl, with his cock in one hand and a meatcleaver in the other Well, I guess I forgot to enquire as to his lineage'

Ulli had left his green velvet courtier's cloak draped over a statue of Verena, presumably hoping to blind the goddess of justice. Harald had wiped his knife on the cloak and thrown the garment over the dead man.

'The girl was Ulli's property, was she not? A bonded slave?'

Harald shrugged. 'It was dark in that temple. I didn't see the brand of ownership burned into her back.'

The baron had no answer. Harald knew that the man approved of his actions. Most people approved of him. That didn't help much. What peopleespecially those in green velvetthought, and what they did were two separate courses.

'She was thirteen years old,' Harald said, 'and your friend had been using her since she was eight.'

Dark points appeared in the baron's eyes. 'Ulli von Tasseninck was not my friend.'

'Did you know that the Grand Prince endowed a college in his name at the University? There's a statue of him outside it, looking like a saint, brandishing the spear of learning. The Ulli von Tasseninck School of Religious Studies.'

A slash of a smile split the baron's neatly trimmed beard.

'Actually, the statue was damaged recently. Someone smashed its head and replaced it with a pumpkin lantern.'

'That's a crime.'

'You wouldn't know anything about it.'

'I hate crime.'

'I thought so.'

Steam rose from Harald's tea. He understood the baron a little better now. He was a good man, too.

They were all good men. A dying breed.

'What happened to the girl? You bought her/didn't you?'

Harald remembered. She could hardly speak and would hide under a table whenever anyone new came into the room. When he had asked her what her name was, she had not known what he had meant. When he had explained that her name was what everybody called her, she smiled and said, 'Bitch.'

'No, I freed her.'

'I understood that cost you a lot.'

'Everything I had. My house, my savings, my horse, everything. Even my job. That was Grand Prince Hals's price.'

The baron nodded.

'I kept something back, though,' Harald said. 'Most of the weapons came with the commission. They belong to the watch. But this,' he patted his knife, 'is mine, bought with my own crowns.'