Morgen, suspected Bedeckt, saw through Wichtig’s endless crap. It was like the boy humored the Swordsman rather than hurt his feelings. Bedeckt couldn’t think of anyone else who would be so kind.
Bedeckt bent and picked up a nearby stick. He poked at the ground as if working a fire.
He owed the boy a debt. Morgen had saved his life. He’d been dying after they’d taken him from Selbsthass, bleeding out his life from scores of wounds. Stehlen and Wichtig would have left him to die. Sure, they would have raced about, ineffectually trying to save him, but too much damage had been done. Stehlen, ever the pragmatist, would have seen it first. Bedeckt had been teetering on the edge of stepping into the Afterdeath. He remembered seeing his father. A dream?
The boy never talked of saving his life. He’d returned Bedeckt to health and not once made mention of a favor owed. Then Morgen had literally brought Wichtig back from the dead. The lad acted as if the deeds were beneath notice, not worthy of comment. Something he’d done and promptly forgotten about. Much as he wanted to, Bedeckt couldn’t forget. He owed the boy his life.
“You might as well join me,” Bedeckt again said to the night. Nothing. Either Stehlen hadn’t bothered to follow, or chose, for whatever reason, to remain hidden.
Bedeckt chuckled. “There isn’t really a plan,” he admitted to the dark. “I don’t know how to ransom the boy back.” He sighed. “I had an idea, but it went to shite when Konig sent his Tiergeist to kill the boy.”
Maybe Wichtig is right. Maybe my plans are all shite.
“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” he said to the tree frogs as he poked at the damp soil with his stick. “This was supposed to be the end, a last big score to make up for all the colossal failures.” He shook his scarred head. “It won’t work. If Konig wants the boy dead, who the hells can we sell him to?”
Water dropped from the leaves above and ran trickling down his neck. He shivered and scowled into the caliginous canopy above. He sat up suddenly.
“That’s why Konig wants the boy dead. Gods damn it to all the hells, I can’t believe I didn’t see this before. The boy has to die to Ascend. Konig doesn’t have to pay ransom, all he has to do is kill the lad.” He thought it through to the only logical end he could see. He felt the tug of old scars as he bared his teeth in a grin. “If Konig wants the boy dead, we keep him alive! We threaten to keep him alive forever. No dead Morgen, no Geborene god. Konig will pay us to kill the lad!”
So simple, so perfect!
And then his shoulders slumped.
It can’t possibly work.
The more he thought on it, though, the more his confidence returned. Yes, the new plan wasn’t without its faults. But he felt he could bring it off. Luckily, his companions would never think to question him.
You owe Morgen your life. Are you really going to kill him?
Bedeckt shoved his worries aside. Promising Konig he’d murder Morgen for money didn’t mean he actually had to kill the boy. Bedeckt had lied once or twice before.
DAWN FOUND HIM cold and damp and covered in snails. In the dewy morning light he easily followed his tracks back to where Stehlen had joined him, and from there to their original camp.
Launisch and the other horses looked dejected and sodden; their saddles and blankets hadn’t been removed from the previous night. Launisch gave Bedeckt a reproachful glare as he entered the clearing. Wichtig still slept, wrapped tight in his sleeping roll, and Stehlen sat crouched nearby on her haunches. The fire had long since gone out and she stared into its soggy remains.
“Gods damn it,” growled Bedeckt. “Can’t you two idiots think to care for the horses when I’m not around? Do I have to tell you everything?” He gestured at the dead fire. “Thanks again. I was looking forward to a hot breakfast.” He noticed Morgen’s empty sleeping roll. “Where’s Morgen?” he asked Stehlen.
“Gone,” she said without looking up.
“Gone? That’s bad. We kind of need him. Sort of integral to the whole kidnapping and ransom plan.” He scowled at Wichtig’s sleeping form. “Wake the idiot up. Let’s go looking for the boy. He can’t have gone far.”
Stehlen finally looked up, her eyes rimmed red with tears. She looked exhausted, like she’d been crying for hours. “Wichtig is dead.”
Bedeckt studied the motionless Swordsman. The blanket didn’t rise and fall with the intake and exhalation of breath. “He’s not faking?” he asked. “If this is one of his pranks . . . if I check and he attempts to startle me, I’ll kill him.”
“Dead. Stabbed in the guts. He took hours to bleed out.” She snorted and blew a wad of snot from a nostril. “He was wrapped too tightly in his sleeping roll. Couldn’t defend himself.”
Bedeckt stepped across the dead fire and gave Wichtig a shove with a booted toe. The Swordsman rolled onto his back and stared, eyes unblinking, into the overcast sky. His skin shone pale, glistening with the morning dew. A fly landed on an open eye, pausing to drink from the dampness gathered there.
Dead like the fire, thought Bedeckt. His mind, still sluggish, struggled to accept this. “Who?” he asked.
“Morgen,” said Stehlen. “No other tracks. Used one of my knives.” She shook, her entire body shuddering with jerky spasms. Bedeckt couldn’t tell if it was submerged rage or anguish. “He’s dead.” Somewhere between lamentation and threat.
Bedeckt looked away, uncomfortable with her show of emotion but even more uncomfortable with his own feelings. Wichtig had spent years trying to manipulate Bedeckt, always seeking advantage. And yet . . .
“Stupid bastard,” Bedeckt swore under his breath, unsure if he meant Wichtig or Morgen . . . or himself.
“He looked up to you like a father,” muttered Stehlen.
“Horse shite. I was just another person he could use.”
“Why do you think he stayed with you so long? All the manipulation crap was for his own benefit.”
“I know—”
“No,” she said, chopping the air with a sharp wave. “Not like that. I mean . . . he needed to think he didn’t need you. He needed to think he used you. Wichtig lied to himself more than he lied to anyone. He needed you. Your direction. Your guidance.” She swore quietly and spat into the ashes. “Your approval.”
Have I lost another friend to pointless violence?
“No,” he said. “You’re wrong. Wichtig is a lying, manipulative, self-serving bastard.”
“Was,” Stehlen corrected angrily.
“You saw how he acted around the boy. I’m guessing he pushed it too far, wasn’t as glib and silver-tongued as he thought. Morgen saw through him. Killed him for it.”
“He was just a boy,” she whispered, and Bedeckt wasn’t sure whom she meant.
Stehlen crouched, arms wrapped tightly around her chest, rocking slowly. She made a high-pitched keening.
“We go after him,” Bedeckt said.
“We go after him,” she agreed.
What they would do once they caught him, he didn’t know, but there was definitely a lack of plan without him. “Which way did he go?” he asked.
She pointed east, back toward Neidrig.
Bedeckt opened his mouth to speak and then remembered Morgen saying they’d end up going east. When had he said that? Back in the inn where he’d brought Wichtig back from the Afterdeath? Bedeckt wished he could remember more of what had been said, but the hangover he’d suffered at the time obliterated almost everything.
“You’ve already been through his stuff?” Bedeckt asked.
Stehlen gave him a disdainful look.
“Did he have much coin?”
She spat into the sludgy ash of the dead fire. “Cretinous turd died a pauper.”
No doubt she lied, she couldn’t help herself. He didn’t care.
Bedeckt thought back to the previous night. Another plan turned to shite.
“Fine,” he said. “We ride east.”
Wichtig sat up in a sudden convulsion and clutched at his guts. Nothing. No sta
bbing fire. No icy steel. Only the distant memory of pain.
Hell of a dream, he thought, kicking aside his sleeping roll and standing. The fire had long gone out and naught remained but damp ash. Morgen, Bedeckt, and Stehlen were nowhere to be seen, their packs and gear gone too.
“They left me here! Took my damned horse too.”
No. Something didn’t feel right. He stood and gazed east. East. He had to go east.
“Why east?” he asked the gray sky. “We headed west toward Folgen Sienie in Reichweite.” And then he remembered asking Morgen if they’d make it to Folgen Sienie and the answering look on the boy’s face. “Right. We were never going to make it anyway. So . . . I’m going east.”
Wichtig bent to pack his gear and sleeping roll and stopped when he saw the bloodstained sheet. His guts tightened. He looked to the gray sky. He looked to the bent and grizzled trees. No life. No real color. Everything appeared gray, faded.
Only a true artist, he told himself, would notice the difference.
It helped that he’d been here before.
“I’m dead,” he said flatly. “Again.”
Die with your boots on, they always say. That which is buried with you or is on your body when you die will be there in the Afterdeath.
Since his last death he’d taken to sleeping with his boots on. This time he was ready. He’d stashed some gold in each boot and slept wearing his swords.
Wichtig pulled off his boots and searched about within. Empty. He stared dumbly into them. Nothing in there but foot odor.
“Oh, Stehlen, you gods-damned bitch.” She’d robbed him.
But when?
Does it matter?
No. Not really. The last time he had been here, it wasn’t like he’d needed money anyway.
He stared east, knowing now why he had to go there.
“And so soon after the last time.” He thought he’d have longer. He thought he’d have a lot longer. “I’m not finished yet!” he called to the eastern sky. “The boy-god may think he’s done with me, but I am not finished with him!”
“Hey, arsehole.”
Wichtig spun, startled. A considerable crowd stood gathered behind him, watching and listening. Had he not been so confident he looked great, he’d have been tempted to be embarrassed.
A scarred brute of a man stepped forward, rolling muscled shoulders and glaring at Wichtig. He looked familiar.
“Ah,” said Wichtig. “Vollk Urzschluss, we meet again.”
“You took even less time than the last time,” the scarred man growled. “Still think you’re so great?”
“Of course.” Wichtig smiled at the crowd of people he’d slain over the years, avoiding the eyes of a few and nodding cockily at others. “We go east to await the death and Ascension of a new god.” He felt the need to start moving, a relentless tension, like he’d swum too deep and his ears would soon pop. “We won’t have to wait long.” He laughed at their doubting faces. “This is not the end of Wichtig Lügner, the Greatest Swordsman in all the World. Oh no,” he said, wagging a finger at the crowd. “This is but the beginning, another step down the path to greatness. This is destiny!” Wichtig watched them watch him. They still looked doubtful. “This soon-to-be-god owes me!”
Vollk sneered but didn’t have the wit not to look curious. “Why does this god owe you?”
“Two reasons, my dead friend. One, I helped shape him. I made him the boy he is today.”
“And?” asked Vollk.
“The little bastard killed me.”
Vollk grunted. “Good luck.”
Wichtig collected his swords—at least Stehlen had left those—and walked east. Vollk jogged to catch up and walk at his side.
“At least you brought your own swords this time,” the scarred warrior muttered, patting the sword hanging at his hip. “I had a hell of a time getting this after you disappeared with my last one.”
Wichtig and his army of victims hadn’t walked for more than an hour when they saw an even larger mob of people ahead, also heading east.
“Not good,” said Wichtig.
The other crowd saw their approach and stopped to wait.
“No point in putting this off, is there?” Wichtig asked without expecting an answer.
“They might kill us,” pointed out Vollk.
“But we’re already dead.”
“In my experience,” said Vollk, “there’s always more death.”
Wichtig grunted.
A large woman stepped out of the crowd and stood waiting. Her hair, hewn short and rough, was a pale orange bordering on strawberry.
“The gods are truly smiling on me today,” she said as Wichtig approached.
He stopped before her and bowed low. “You have me at a disadvantage,” he said.
“Yes. There are quite a few more of us.”
“I meant, rather, that you know me and I don’t know you.” He looked her up and down. “Though you do look familiar.”
“I am Lebendig Durchdachter, the Greatest Swordswoman in Neidrig.”
“Ah yes. We almost fought. A shame. Not that we almost fought, but rather that we almost fought. I was looking forward to killing you.”
“Your friend did it for you,” snarled Lebendig.
“Not for me. A minor quibble, but an important one. She did it to piss me off.”
Lebendig gestured at the gathered crowd behind her. Many looked familiar, but Wichtig couldn’t put names to the faces.
“We have you outnumbered,” she said.
“Yes, as you’ve mentioned.”
She nodded at his swords. “Those are mine.”
“Oh.”
Wichtig handed the swords over with a philosophical shrug. Easy come, easy go.
“Vollk,” he said, “it seems I’ll be needing your sword again.”
CHAPTER 38
Sanity. Insanity. Genius. Rampant stupidity. Frankly, I can no longer tell them apart.
—FEHLENDE WAHRHEIT, GEISTESKRANKEN PHILOSOPHER
The sun crept ever higher in the sky, replacing the damp chill with comfortable warmth and chasing away the thin morning clouds. Birds flew lazy circles overhead, and to the west something larger circled above where they’d left Wichtig’s body.
Idiot, idiot, idiot, Stehlen cursed over and over. How could the half-wit donkey-sticking fool let himself be killed by a child? Gods, I hope he’s writhing in embarrassment in the Afterdeath. When she found him, she’d never let him live it down. And once she’d killed the boy and avenged Wichtig, the idiot Swordsman would owe her. She’d lord it over him forever!
Bedeckt, riding in front, looked back over his shoulder. “We should have buried him,” he said.
Stehlen snorted and spat noisily. Her horse’s ears twitched away from the sound. Wichtig’s horse, tethered to her own and following behind, tried to slow but gave up when she turned her gaze on it. “The arsehole is dead,” she said. “Don’t waste effort on spoiling meat.”
Bedeckt grimaced and said nothing.
“Seriously?” she asked. “Wichtig is suddenly more deserving of respect now he’s dead? Is that what it takes for you?” She hawked and spat again. “Gods, you’re a moron.”
Bedeckt, turning away, pretended he hadn’t heard. He rested a calming hand on Launisch’s neck. The coal-black war-horse’s eye rolled as it tried to keep Stehlen in sight.
Just as well, she thought. Sometimes the answers weren’t worth having.
They rode in awkward silence for several minutes.
“We’ll catch Morgen before the day is up,” said Stehlen.
“You sure?” asked Bedeckt, scanning the trees. “He could be anywhere.”
Stehlen rolled her eyes at Bedeckt’s back. “No one hides anything from me. Not when I want it bad enough. And I want this—no one steals from me.” When Bedeckt nodded she figured he understood. Wichtig may have been a manipulative arrogant prick, but he was their friend. Morgen would die for killing him. If anyone got to kill Wichtig, it should be her. Mo
rgen took that from her.
“Anyway, he won’t go into the forest, he’s afraid to get dirty. He’ll stick to the road.”
Stehlen pushed the pace, driving her horse to take the lead. Bedeckt lagged behind. It was like the old goat—damn, Wichtig always called him that—didn’t really want to catch the boy. Fine. If he didn’t have the stomach for it, she was more than capable of killing the little bastard. She’d do it for Wichtig. She’d do it for Bedeckt. The old man was getting soft.
She slowed to let him catch up.
It was well into the afternoon when Bedeckt finally spotted the boy, a small, shuffling figure several hundred yards down the road. He knew a moment of regret. Why couldn’t the lad have walked off into the trees and simply disappeared?
“Stehlen.”
“Hmm?” She broke off from glaring at the back of her horse’s head.
“There’s the boy. Let’s do this carefully. Approach slowly, no threat.” When she scowled he added, “We don’t know what he’s capable of.”
She said nothing, just stared at him, her yellowy eyes narrow shards of anger.
They spurred their horses into a gentle trot and caught up with Morgen. If the boy heard them, he didn’t react. He walked, head bowed, picking flecks of dried blood from his hands and arms. His fingernails were stained with gore. Bedeckt wheeled Launisch around to block the boy’s path.
“Morgen,” he said gently, dismounting to stand before the boy.
The lad looked up to meet his eyes. “Sorry,” he said. “I tried to warn . . .” His eyes red, he glanced about as if searching for something. Nodding toward the side of the road, he said, “There it is.”
Bedeckt looked. Nothing but a bunch of rocks. “There what is?” he asked.
Morgen waved a hand as if trying to encompass everything. “Sometimes, there’s just no knowing. Still, you have to make a choice. At some point you have to decide who—or what—to trust.”
Stehlen slid off her horse and stood beside Bedeckt, a hand resting menacingly on the pommel of her sword. “You killed Wichtig, you little bastard.”
“I had to. The fire showed me.”
Morgen glanced at Bedeckt, his eyes flat. Gods, Wichtig’s eyes looked just like that. “Fire?” Bedeckt asked.
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