Wolf Ladmer lay drunk on the bed. From The Sleeping Dragon, located on the ground floor, came the muffled sounds of revelry. Not even the thick rugs that covered the floor or the thick leaded glass in the windows could completely insulate it.
He downed a glass of gin and stretched, enjoying the caress of the satin sheets on his skin. With a wistful sigh he closed an old volume of knowledge, his bedside book, the camasutra, the first he had acquired in that strange bookstore in Bergheim. To tell the truth, the calligraphy was already quite simplistic and the positions of the couples that illustrated it were tedious and unexperienced. Only one of them might have been vaguely interesting, but where could one get a constricting giant python in Freiburg at this time of year?
He got out of bed and wrapped the silk robe around himself to hide the stigma he had on his chest. He smiled; the garment had been a gift from the fascinating traveler Dieng Ching, guest of Duke Emmanuel, another patron of the Exotic Books and Collector's Emporium bookstore. He and Wolf had spent an interesting evening together at 'The Mother's Disciple', a famous brothel, situated in the upper class section of the city. The Celestial, as he called himself, had shown knowledge of many esoteric philosophies and occult mysteries of numerous secret cults. Despite his lack of interest in the finer points of Lilith's cult, he had proved a most stimulating companion—one of the many Wolf had met during his time in Bergheim.
At that moment he missed his days of debauchery. He deplored this backward city, with its moon-faced peasant girls and third-rate courtesans, who had not the slightest imagination.
He often regarded the times spent in Bergheim as a golden age of his life that he could never return to. He hadn't exactly received the kind of education his father had envisioned by sending him to the best tutors in the Kingdom, though one in which Wolf had been an outstanding student. His teachers were among the most rakish ladies' ladies of his day. It was a pity that he hadn't done so well in his more conventional studies, and that the tutors had ended up writing to his father to fill him in on what they considered to be the truth about him.
Wolf gave a hearty laugh. The truth! If those wizened old men had had the remotest idea of the reality of their activities, they would have sent for the city guard. If his father had the slightest inkling of the truth, he wouldn't just threaten to disinherit him; he would have him banished to the woods to join Heinrich's bloated cousin, Dolphus, the one who had continued to eat until he looked like a dumpling. Rumors had it that he had been caught trying to roast an ear of his own mother.
Stories like that showed how little imagination the townspeople had.
What could such unimaginative people know about the cult of Lady Lilith, the true goddess of pain and pleasure?
He picked up a statuette that he kept by the bed and studied it. The carving of the jade was almost perfect, and represented a female being naked, except for an open cloak that exposed her woman's breasts. An arm of hers beckoned temptingly to whoever looked at her and a slight smile of lasciviousness, and perhaps of contempt, animated her beautiful face. Wolf looked at her in a way similar to her love. No, what could those stupid despicable misers know about the worship of a true goddess?
His mind would have collapsed under the maddening impact of the secrets Wolf had learned in the catacombs of Bergheim. His weak souls would have been nullified by the strange gatherings that took place in the pleasure houses, the secret temples to his goddess. Not even in his wildest fantasies could they have visualized what he had seen in the graveyard-brothel on the outskirts of the city, where prostitutes of all known races offered their services to depraved nobles in the so-called Unholy Circus.
Wolf had seen the truth: that the world was over; that the Dark Powers increased their strength; that the human being was something depraved and sick, that he hid his lusts behind a mask of decorum. He wanted nothing to do with such hypocrisy. He had turned to a goddess who offered ecstasy on earth instead of an uncertain afterlife. He would know the last moments of human life before the end of all things. He smiled at the truths the wine had revealed to him, further proof of Lilith's superiority as the one true goddess.
He returned to leave the bedside book and the statuette next to the copy of 'The Secrets of the Harem'; then he took a special dream root wand from the jar where he kept it, then slid back the panel that closed the secret niche. He wasn't interested in his father paying him a surprise visit and finding those things. Only the hope of marrying his only child to Heinrich's swinish sister Inge kept the old man from throwing Wolf out of his house penniless. However, his father did have one great virtue: he might be a dull, stern, miserly old man, but he was an incurable snob.
It was the only reason he had sent Wolf to respectable tutors, the only reason he had given her enough money to live like a courtier. He wanted the Ladmers to join the nobility, and Heinrich's family, though inbred and poor, clearly belonged to that class. Yes, his father dreamed that one day his grandson would have the favor of the King. "Think how good that would be for business!" he used to utter frequently.
The root of dreams made his tongue itch, and he wondered if Luthor Kryptan had added more manastone as he had ordered. That gave the drug more flavor. Even then she could remember the alchemist's pale, nervous countenance as he warned her of the dangers of manastone exposure. However, his contacts had given her important information about the alchemist, and as long as he kept Kryptan's little secret, he would do as he was told. Wolf was amused to see how fear and hatred battled on the old man's face. Perhaps the time had come to make him prepare that poison… "Father is getting quite annoying lately."
The clock struck twelve, and Wolf winced because the root of dreams made the sound resemble the tolling of temple bells. He looked at it. It was the same shape as these, built to resemble a tall, gabled temple. The effect of the dreamroot blurred the outlines, and he lent a strange animated quality to the tiny figures that emerged from within the mechanism to strike the gong beneath the sphere.
Wolf noticed that the girl was late, though perhaps that was forgivable, since few people had access to a watch as accurate as his. It was a work of art, precision work, made by the finest clockwork craftsman in the Kingdom.
However, the fox was late. He would make her pay later for her delay.
In the cupboard he kept some of the best orc-hide whips, as well as some more sophisticated pleasure tools.
He stumbled closer to the fire, for the wine and the root of dreams had dulled him, and he checked again that the position of the bearskin rug was correct. He didn't know why he went to such trouble for a bitch, though he guessed he wasn't doing it for her, but for himself and his goddess. The more pleasure she granted herself, the more pleased the Mistress of Hedonism would be.
He walked to the window, drew back the brocade curtains, and looked out through the textured glass. No trace of the girl. Wait a minute… what was that? She seemed to be walking down the street towards the tavern. She shouldn't she have been serving downstairs? What was she doing outside at this time of night? The fog was very thick, and maybe it wasn't her.
In any case, what did she matter, as long as she came to her room? Wolf heard the stairs creak under a light weight, and was glad he had pestered his father to let him have those upstairs chambers of The Sleeping Dragon. He assumed that his father had given in to his pleas because, despite his claims, he didn't really want to know what his heir was up to.
He stumbled to the door, feeling her arousal despite the alcohol and drugs. The root of his dreams made him shiver from head to foot. He had to admit that the girl had a certain wild beauty that could be described as attractive in the soft light. He would soon initiate her into the mysteries of Lilith in the proper and prescribed manner.
There was a soft, uncertain knock on the door, and Wolf flung it open. Wisps of mist drifted in, and he saw Greta before him, wrapped in a cheap cloak.
"Welcome," Wolf said with drunken awkwardness, at the same time allowing the robe to slip from her shoulders to reveal her naked body.
He was gratified when her eyes widened, though the sensation was short-lived as she opened her mouth and began to scream.