No one. Stehlen, Wichtig, and Bedeckt taught him that lesson well.
An idea sparked to life and Morgen bit the inside of his bottom lip to stifle his grin. The taste of blood reminded him of being kicked in the face by the Slaver’s followers and his chest tightened. Once again he felt Bedeckt’s knife slip between his ribs. The old warrior abandoned Wichtig and Stehlen in the Afterdeath. Stehlen would want to kill Bedeckt for sure. And Wichtig, as self-centred an arse as Morgen ever met, could no doubt be bought.
Those two would be more than enough to deal with whatever Nacht, Konig, and Failure sent, and Morgen—with the help of the figurines—knew where they were at all times. They’d be easy to track, easy to kill later.
I’ll send Bedeckt’s friends to kill him.
CHAPTER THREE
The mirror shows me as fat and ugly and hairy. No matter how little I eat, no matter how much time I spend in the sun, my Reflection displays a chubby and pallid face, eyes drooping with misery. My friends say I’m wasting away to nothing, but I see their disappointment and disgust. This week I shall eat less and shave closer, scraping my face bloody and raw if need be. This week I shall stay in the sun longer.
—Spiegel Lügen, Mirrorist
Morgen left to walk the city in search of uncleanliness and disorder, and his Reflection, Nacht, faded away moments after.
“That went well,” said Failure, grinning down at the prostrate Konig.
Still wheezing, Konig rolled onto his back. “I thought Nacht was going to tell him everything. When he said people would pursue Bedeckt, planning to kill him—”
“A distraction,” said Failure, hiding his hatred of the new Konig. The escaped Reflection used Failure’s Doppels—back when Failure was Konig—to replace him. But those Doppels were gone now, those weaknesses hewn from his soul.
Konig rose to his feet with a grimace, keeping an arm tight to his ribs and breathing in shallow sips.
Failure understood how his Reflections outsmarted his Doppels—catching glimpses of possible futures must give one something of an edge in all interactions—but was still appalled at his own failure to survive the plot against him.
His vengeance would be total. But first he must set all the pieces in play, and for that he needed his Reflection. No. I am the reflection. He is real. He is Konig.
The Warrior’s Credo: Those whom you slay must serve in the Afterdeath. If you slew a man who in turn killed ten others, those ten would also serve. Much of the Afterdeath was populated by roving armies of killers bound by the Credo. It would be Failure’s salvation. Bedeckt killed Morgen and, when dead, could have commanded the godling even though the warrior never had. Why, Failure couldn’t begin to comprehend. But with Bedeckt once again alive, it meant the old man could once again be slain. Of course killing him didn’t guarantee Morgen would once again serve as the Credo dictated. Everything depended on what the masses believed, and while the people of the other city-states were beyond Failure’s reach, the populace of Selbsthass was not. And they are well-primed for faith.
“I need to talk with all the highest ranking priests still in the city.”
“Why?” demanded Konig.
“Because we have to make sure everyone in Selbsthass knows the man who killed their god and helped him Ascend has fled the Afterdeath.”
“I don’t see why—”
“The priests will spread the word that whoever kills him will have power over their god.”
“You don’t really believe—”
Idiot. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. When everyone in Selbsthass—the centre of Morgen’s power—believes what I want, it will become truth.”
“I don’t think this will work,” said Konig, rubbing his chin.
It matters even less what you believe. “It will. Please fetch the priests for me.”
Konig smirked a very unKonig smirk. “I suppose I might humour you in this.”
Failure bowed low. “Thank you.” He watched Konig puff up with his small victory. Imaginary though it was.
They think me trapped and helpless. And in many ways he was. But not for long.