“Fine.”
Hours later, when the last of the Selbsthass army crossed into Gottlos, Morgen stood at the apex of the bridge, staring back into Selbsthass. He blinked and tears fell. Dried blood flaked from his hands as he habitually picked at them.
As far as he could see the ground was torn, shredded by the passing of fifteen thousand soldiers and thousands of horses. In marching to war he despoiled his beautiful Selbsthass. We haven’t even fought a battle yet. What have I done?
“This is nothing. I can fix this.” Morgen willed the rolling hills back to perfection.
Nothing happened.
Morgen understood. Standing atop the bridge, he was no longer in Selbsthass. The belief of his followers stopped at that illusory border.
Only the faith of my soldiers maintains me now. He felt small, weak.
Thinking that once back within the sphere of influence defined by his worshippers he could repair the damage, he took a step toward Selbsthass. He stopped. The faith of his followers defined the boundaries of his influence. Outside of Selbsthass, few worshipped the Geborene godling, though the temple in Geldangelegenheiten would soon change that. There was more than one way to wage war.
If he crossed into Selbsthass and wasn’t able to once again return to Gottlos, he’d have to call his army back and cross with them. It was their faith that allowed him to cross that border. At the least, it would be embarrassing, an admission of weakness. Of need. At the worst, they’d see it as imperfection. He couldn’t let his troops doubt in him.
Is that what Nacht wanted? Had his Reflection tried to trick him into being caught helpless on the wrong side of the bridge?
Turning his back on the travesty his soldiers made of beautiful Selbsthass broke his heart. How could a quest for perfection cause such devastation? The damage would have to await his return. It felt like failure.
When he stepped off the bridge and onto the churned earth of Gottlos, cold rain fell upon him. In moments he was soaked through, icy water trickling from his hair and into his eyes. I am less on this side of the river. But how much less? Certainly the faith of fifteen thousand soldiers was nothing in comparison to the combined belief of the entire populace of Selbsthass. He willed himself dry and nothing happened. In half a dozen steps the hem of his white robes was stained dark with mud. I should go back, return home. Could he trust General Misserfolg to conquer Gottlos without him?
Yes.
But could he trust the general to do it right, to make it perfect?
Morgen sighed, running fingers through damp hair. No.
He wiped away his tears as he approached the garrison tower. Here on the Gottlos side of the river the stench was even worse. Even when alive, the Gottlos soldiers did a piss-poor job of maintaining their posting. The place was a wreck, the ancient tower looking like it might fall in on itself at any moment.
Fifteen thousand holy warriors of Selbsthass will make short work of this. We’ll be back on the road tomorrow. The thought calmed him. By the time Misserfolg found him to report the discovery of a K?rperidentit?t alive in the basement, his eyes were dry.
“I want every stone scrubbed,” he told General Misserfolg. “Tomorrow we march on Unbrauchbar.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
I didn’t steal it, I borrowed it without telling anyone.
No, I’m not going to give it back.
—Anonymous Kleptic
Stehlen and Lebendig walked south, the Swordswoman setting a slow pace. The Kleptic once again wondered whether this was a comfortable silence or an uncomfortable one. Was Lebendig angry, too tired to talk, or lost in thought? Stehlen wanted to ask, but if the silence was comfortable, doing so would probably ruin it. Should she reach out and take her lover’s hand?
No. She couldn’t face the possibility of rejection.
She remembered wanting to kill Lebendig at the oasis of trees. Had whatever numen or local spirit called the place home influenced her thoughts? Or was it own desire? Certainly having Lebendig bound by the Warrior’s Credo would simplify everything.
“Your arm,” said Lebendig. “You’re still bleeding.”
“I’m fine.” The pain felt like punishment.
“We should look at it.”
“We should find Wichtig.”
“Stehlen.”
Realizing Lebendig stopped, Stehlen turned to face her. Gods she looks terrible.
“I need to stop.” Lebendig looked down, bared teeth at the ground. “I’m tired.”
“We can rest here for a bit,” said Stehlen looking everywhere but at her lover.
“When we find Wichtig—”
“I’ll take care of it.” Her chest tightened with fear and some emotion she didn’t feel ready to face.
“I can still—”
“I know. We’ll deal with that later.” Wichtig would butcher her in this shape.