“Drache,” said Failure. “You must leave utter ruin in your path.” He knew she would no matter what he said. Granting her permission made it seem like it was his idea, like she owed him for his endorsement of her nature. “But you must not slay Bedeckt.” Would she even be able to tell who she was killing from above? Best to be safe. “When you find your quarry, Erdbehüter and Ungeist shall do the killing.” She nodded unhappy agreement but he left her no choice. Another thought occurred to Failure. If Ungeist freed Bedeckt’s inner demons, was that the same as killing him? Would Failure still be able to later kill Ungeist to gain control over the old warrior and in turn Morgen? “Erdbehüter, you shall kill Bedeckt. Ungeist is only to assist should you fail.”
“I shall not fail,” she said, glaring venomous hatred in Ungeist’s direction. Failure didn’t care what history the two shared, as long as they obeyed.
Ungeist looked ready to argue and Failure silenced him with a look. “These are the commands of your god.”
All bowed their heads in acceptance.
“You three approach the Pinnacle. You are unstable. Madness might take you at any time.” Three sets of eyes met his and he left them no room to disagree. “But it won’t. Your service to Morgen protects you. As long as you do our god’s will, you are safe. Fail him in any way, disobey my—his—commands in the slightest, and that protection shall end.”
He owned them. It was easy, far easier than when he was alive. My Gefahrgeist power grows.
When whoever survived returned to Selbsthass, it would be time to turn his attention to Konig. The man had to fall so Failure could replace him, become one again real. Until then, the pathetic wretch was useful. If things went wrong, Konig would be blamed. And Failure still needed him to manipulate physical reality.
The Theocrat herded the Geisteskranken from the room, leaving Failure alone, trapped in his mirror.
Even if the three Geisteskranken failed to kill their prey, it would be no great feat to turn Morgen against the Theocrat.
My prison is my armour.
Morgen would assume Failure had no influence beyond his cage and believe Konig was to blame.
But there are many kinds of influence.
CHAPTER SEVEN
From the first time you see your Reflection fail to mimic your actions to the moment you are dragged screaming into the mirror, you shall know no moment of peace.
—Im Spiegel, Mirrorist
Bedeckt and Zukunft claimed a table in the Leichtes Haus tavern in Selbsthass. Where Stehlen would have sat across from him so she could watch his back, Zukunft sat beside him. She even shuffled her chair a little closer and he felt the heat of her through his arm. If he moved away she’d ask why and so he stayed, uncomfortable and sweating even though it wasn’t particularly warm.
Zukunft ignored him. Apparently unaware of his discomfort, she sat hunched over the mirror Bedeckt purchased. She’d also bought a new shirt and dress more fitting to the cool weather and free of blood. Both were the same green as the dress she wore in the Afterdeath.
“Do you see them?” asked Bedeckt.
“Shush.”
When he sent Wichtig and Stehlen away, hoping to make good his escape of the Afterdeath, he told them to meet him here, in this tavern assuming its counterpart existed in the Afterdeath. It was the only one in Selbsthass he knew the name of. If Morgen was going to send the two after Bedeckt, this was where he would most likely intercept them. Counting on the insane to be predictable is crazy.
Knowing when and where the two came through from the Afterdeath wasn’t critical to Bedeckt’s plan, but more information was always better than less.
If they don’t come through here, you’ll never know if they’re coming after you.
“Found them,” said Zukunft, peering into the mirror. “They’ll be here tomorrow.”
Bedeckt grinned satisfaction and broken teeth. He couldn’t have planned it better. Leaning closer, he glanced over Zukunft’s shoulder. Twisted shapes and colours swirled in the mirror and he saw nothing of use. “Looks like someone shat bloody diarrhoea in a whirlpool,” he said.
Zukunft snorted. “I only see what she wants me to see.”
Again this mysterious she. Bedeckt decided not to ask. She wouldn’t tell him anyway. But it didn’t bode well that the Mirrorist thought there was someone else in the mirror who controlled what she saw. “Will she let me see what she’s showing you?”
Zukunft gnawed on her bottom lip and glanced at Bedeckt. “I’ll ask.”
She said nothing and Bedeckt waited as she gazed into her mirror.
“Is he nice?” she said, darting another glance at Bedeckt. She laughed and returned her attention to the mirror. “No, I don’t think so.”
While she stared at the mirror, listening intently to something he couldn’t hear, Bedeckt ordered another pint, his fourth. Ale in the Afterdeath never tasted this good. Zukunft’s first pint remained untouched. The thought of letting it go to waste bothered him.
“Do I what?” Zukunft asked the mirror, sounding surprised. “No. Well look at him. He’s old.”
“Thanks,” said Bedeckt.
“He reminds me of…no, I know he was never like that. More like what Daddy could have been.”
Daddy? Shite, no. “Never mind,” said Bedeckt. “I don’t need to see the mirror.”
Zukunft turned the mirror so Bedeckt could better see its surface. “She says she has something to show you.”
“Why?”
“I think it’s a test,” said Zukunft.
Fantastic. I’m being tested by something this deranged wench is hallucinating in her mirror. “Show me.”
The mirror’s surface swirled, a writhing puke of blood and shite and vomit. Shapes took form, at first vague and liquid, but coalescing as he watched. He saw broken limbs, twisted to impossible angles, jutting from churned mud. Eyes, bright and blue, watched him. Morgen. I know this scene. The fat Slaver tortured the boy, trying to break the godling’s will.
“This is the past,” said Bedeckt.
“No, she only sees the future.”
“I’ve seen this before.”
Zukunft shook her head and turned the mirror back to herself. She stared into it. “There’s a family. A band of Geisteskranken—they’re led by a Mirrorist who thinks he speaks to the One True God in his mirror—will catch them. The Geisteskranken make the father watch as they rape and murder his wife and son.”
“One True God?” He remembered hearing about something like that long ago in Geldangelegenheiten.
“They’re Täuschung,” she said as if that explained everything.
Bedeckt recognized the name. “That’s ridiculous. The Täuschung are one of those timid religions preaching an Afterdeath of peace and tranquillity. They claim that once everyone believes as they do we’ll all Ascend to become gods or some such horseshite.”
“She says that’s the lie they tell to hide the evil madness at the heart of the religion.”
She again.
“She says they believe this responsive reality is a prison and that suffering will free us. They’ve hallucinated their own hell, some kind of mass delusion. It’s called Swarm. Torturing people is part of making sure their souls end up in the Täuschung hell.”
That made as much sense as any religion. Maybe Morgen and his Geborene weren’t so bad. At least the boy wanted things to make sense. Bedeckt could appreciate that, even if he didn’t like the lad’s methods.
“And this One True God?” he asked.
“He enforces the rules of our reality. He’s supposed to be our jailer, even though they believe he never interferes.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t make much sense to me.” She laughed, a soft sound, and rested her hand atop his right hand, massaging the ridges of scar with her thumb. “But then it is a religion.”
Even drunk Stehlen would never interfere with that hand. The right being his whole hand, it was always left free and clear, ready to reach for a weapon should the need arise. What
kind of life had Zukunft led that she could be so blissfully unthinking?
Not everyone expects to have to kill someone every moment of every day.
Bedeckt pulled his hand free and Zukunft gave him a pouty moue of pretend sadness.
“Some deranged arseholes are going to torture some folks who are stupid enough to get caught,” said Bedeckt. “Why show me?”
“Your list.”
Why the hells had he told her? It was stupid. “It’s a list of things I won’t do. There’s nothing on there saying I have to race off and save every damned idiot out there. It’s a shite world. Shite things happen.” Again he saw Morgen, shattered limbs sticking from the mud. He remembered his rage at the thought someone did this to such a pure soul. And how did that turn out? Yet that rage bubbled once again. Bedeckt ground his teeth and Zukunft shifted her chair a little farther away.
“You said you don’t hurt children.”
“I’m not hurting that boy.”
“You’re allowing him to be hurt. Your inaction will doom his soul to the Täuschung hell.”
“I can’t save everyone.” Down that path lay madness and failure.
“You don’t know about everyone. You don’t have a chance to save everyone.” Zukunft’s green eyes never left his.
Let them die. Not my problem. “This,” Bedeckt nodded at the mirror, “this is definitely going to happen?”
“There are too many people with too many choices for anything to be fixed.”
“So it might not happen?”
Zukunft stared at him.
To hells with that family. “We have to go to Gottlos,” Bedeckt said.
“It’s almost on the way,” said Zukunft.
Almost. Bedeckt remembered Morgen, mind broken from pain, begging him to end his life. No one would be there for this boy. He’d never understand why these men did such horrible things to his family. Bedeckt’s knuckles cracked as his half hand formed a meaty fist.
Hadn’t Zukunft said something about this being a test? Shite. He understood immediately. If I don’t do this she’s not going to help me.
“If we leave now we can stop this?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
She wanted him to endanger an already tenuous plan for a gods-damned maybe? On the other hand, without Zukunft and her Reflection there was no plan. She’d promised to show Bedeckt how to stop Morgen, but beyond that he knew nothing. It was entirely possible this whole side trip was part of whatever the Reflection saw. Maybe he had to do it. “Why does she,” he nodded again at the mirror, “want to test me?”
Zukunft looked away, watching a couple at another table lost in their own discussion. “It doesn’t matter.”
The sight of the boy, broken and tortured, stayed with Bedeckt. We’re not going off on some wild chase because the boy reminds you of Morgen. “Can you see what happens to Stehlen and Wichtig if we go after the boy?” He cursed himself for asking.
“They’ll get ahead of us,” said Zukunft.
That wasn’t all bad. Following behind Stehlen and Wichtig might actually be better than being pursued by them. He wouldn’t mind having a little more control over when they finally met. If Stehlen found him before he was ready, she might kill him before he had a chance to explain. She might kill you any way.
“Tell me who she is,” said Bedeckt, gesturing at the mirror.
“This isn’t when I tell you.”
“Do you know when you do tell me?”
Zukunft shook her head.
Gods-damned Geisteskranken. And yet you keep choosing to travel with them. They had their uses, but madness left them unpredictable. There was no plan without this girl’s ability to see into the future. If she—or whatever she hallucinated in her mirror—wanted him to go after this boy, then perhaps that’s exactly what he should do. He needed her, and if she needed this…whatever it was…then he could give it to her.
Sure you’re not justifying a bad choice?
Bedeckt slammed back the last of his pint. “You going to drink that?” he asked, eyeing her still untouched pint.
“No.”
Then why the hells did she order it? He took the mug in his half-hand and drained it in a long swallow.
“Ale makes you fat,” she said.
Bedeckt glanced down at the gut hanging over his belt. “It makes me happy.” He scowled at her. “And wasting money makes you poor.”
“Sure thing, Daddy,” she said.
Daddy? You didn’t actually think she found you attractive did you? Snarling, Bedeckt rose, his knees popping, the muscles in his lower back feeling like someone crushed them in a vice. “We need horses.”
Gods he missed Launisch, his old war horse. What a fine beast that had been. For a moment he considered asking Zukunft if she could find where his horse was, but decided against it. There were already too many damned distractions.
The horse trader knew Bedeckt was in a rush and took full advantage. Cursing the man and his offspring for a thousand generations, Bedeckt left with two barely passable mounts, saddles looking older than he was, and very little coin.
They rode through Selbsthass City, toward the southern gate. The colossal wall grew ever more impressive as they approached. He didn’t like it. Belief defined reality, but this wasn’t possible. He’d been dead only two weeks, not nearly enough time to convince an entire population of the wall’s existence. Even in this responsive reality men built walls by hand. Belief was too fickle, too difficult to guarantee. It was far easier to build structures of wood and stone than delusion.
And yet no one paid the wall any attention.
It must have been here for years.
Bedeckt approached a merchant selling fruit, Zukunft following.
He gestured at the wall with his half hand. “How long has that been here?”
The merchant blinked up at Bedeckt—still mounted—and decided answering was the quickest path to getting rid of the brute. “The wall? Almost eight years.”
Bedeckt turned his horse back into the street. Eight years. That wasn’t possible. He was here less than a month ago and there’d been no wall.
The proof of his inaccurate belief towered over him and Bedeckt, as sane a man as ever walked the earth, accepted the evidence before him. Somehow years passed during the brief time he spent in the Afterdeath. He grinned. It would piss Wichtig off that his reputation had no doubt faded—maybe even been completely forgotten.
Gods knew what might have changed, what mad new religions may have been birthed by the febrile minds of man. It did mean Selbsthass had been preparing for war for longer than he thought. It also meant Morgen had more time to build his power base than Bedeckt liked. What other city-states had the Geborene spread to?
The crowd of pedestrians thinned and Bedeckt saw more and more armed priests, often travelling in squads. The city looked calm, peaceful. He couldn’t imagine what these roving bands of armed priests did. He saw no signs of dissent or poverty. Even Geldangelegenheiten, with its mad worship of gold, had vagrants and beggars. Here, Bedeckt saw no one who didn’t look well fed and gainfully employed.
With the sun high the streets were blinding white and impossibly clean considering how many people travelled them. Bedeckt felt filthy, like he somehow soiled this beautiful city with his presence. Judging from the looks he received, a fair number of the city’s population felt much the same. Some part of him wanted to scuff a cobblestone with his boot and then hide somewhere to see who came to clean it and how long it took before they arrived.
“It’s a gorgeous city,” said Zukunft, riding alongside Bedeckt. Her skirt, hiked up to allow her to straddle her horse comfortably, showed more thigh than Bedeckt felt ready to deal with. “I’ve never seen anywhere quite so…clean.”
“It’s their damned godling. He’s obsessed with cleanliness. Used to wash his hands until they bled.” Bedeckt, thinking of how Stehlen would react to the new Selbsthass, spat at the street earning himself a fresh batch of disdain and disgust fro
m those around him. He laughed at them and they found something else to be disdainful about. If he wanted to mark one small cobblestone, Stehlen would want to drown this place in blood and filth. Gods pity anyone dumb enough to show her their disapproval.
A squad of Geborene priests in clean white liveries watched Bedeckt and Zukunft, eyes hooded and suspicious. When the two passed and the priests made no move to intercept, Bedeckt released the breath he held. It’d be damned typical to get thrown into jail before they even made it out of the city.
Bedeckt imagined Wichtig saying, That’d pretty much rut your stupid plan, wouldn’t it old man?
What the hells was he doing? Running off to rescue some child so… So what? So this deranged Mirrorist would continue helping him?
You know that isn’t the reason. At least not the entire reason. Damned list. Why don’t you cross those last few things off? Why not embrace the foul shite you are and admit there is no crime you aren’t willing to perpetrate? Stehlen would be disgusted with him. He knew what she’d say: You’re afraid this pretty piece of arse will think less of you if you don’t rescue the boy. You’ve gone soft. And then she’d call him an idiot and she wouldn’t be wrong. Bedeckt ground his teeth and growled under his breath. Without Zukunft, he had no chance of stopping Morgen, no chance at undoing the damage he did the child. No chance at—he killed the thought. One step at a time. Rescue this damned child so she’d show him what he really needed to be doing. He could only hope she hadn’t lied about everything. His gut soured at the thought.
Zukunft remained impervious to his mood, stroking her horse’s nose as she rode and cooing nonsense at it. “I’m calling him Prächtig.” she announced. “What are you calling yours?”
“Arsehole.”
Zukunft pursed her lips as if contemplating his answer. Finally, she nodded and said, “Great name.”
“We didn’t have enough coin to buy much food,” said Bedeckt, changing the subject. “We’ll have to hunt.”
“I’d wondered why you bought a short-bow,” said Zukunft. “Are you skilled with it?”
He wasn’t. He hated the damned things. More often than not they broke before he killed anything or the bowstring got wet or stretched. This one looked more like a piece of tree than a real bow, but it would have to do. The arrows, sharpened sticks at best, would be useless for anything bigger than an underfed rabbit. Even then Bedeckt didn’t relish the thought of chasing a wounded animal if he didn’t land a killing shot. A real bow and iron headed arrows were beyond their means.
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