Justice for the Werewolf

Juliet Fischer

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012

Cover by Dorothea Adams Fischer

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Justice for the Werewolf

Werewolves did not exist in Serinkar. That sort of magic was impossible. Even children knew that stories of mages who summoned creatures from other planes, and of cursed people and objects, were fictions once encouraged by powerful elites terrorizing the common people. The hearth-witches and hedge-wizards of tradition were no more than clever peasants with rudimentary medical knowledge.

In the tenth Year of the Eagle, the fifth year of King Mehrenal’s reign, a werewolf lived in the minor city of Pernik. She roamed uncaught for two years. Had it not been for an unscrupulous taverner, she would never have been found out.

The fog in her head told Kazziil that she’d been drugged. Ropes bound her. A gag cut her mouth.

She waited, eyes closed, for her head to clear. Sounds of traffic, horses and wagons, came dimly from one side. Steam whistle in the distance. Under her, a mattress and bedding. Both needed airing, by the smell. The gag tasted as if it had cleaned the floor.

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