Lebendig was quiet for a moment. Then she asked, “This can’t be the whole world, can it?”
Grateful for the topic change, Stehlen wasn’t sure she understood the question. Did the Swordsman mean this little moment of reality, the two of them following an idiot Swordsman—the man Stehlen loved and could never have? “Why not?”
Lebendig frowned, her eyebrows coming together as she struggled to put the thought into words. “It’s too small.”
“You ever travelled from one end to the other?” asked Stehlen. “It’s got to be more than a thousand miles. That’s two months of hard travel.”
“I’ve heard stories of strange people crossing the Gezackt Mountains or washing up on the shores of the Salzwasser Ocean,” said Lebendig. “People who can’t understand our words, who speak something different. They suffer strange delusions unlike anything we’ve seen.”
“You don’t have to invent fanciful stories of distant lands to hear of strange delusions,” said Stehlen.
“I knew a sailor who swore she saw a dragon. Her ship was pushed off the usual trade routes, far out into the ocean.”
A sailor. Stehlen swallowed a hard nugget of angry jealousy. “The result of some Halluzin,” she said. “There are no monsters that did not spring from the minds of men.”
“I’m ready,” said Lebendig, straightening. She looked like hell but her eyes were sharp.
The two walked on in silence.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I love that moment when you see it in their eyes, the dawning understanding that you have absolutely and utterly rutted their lives. It is the most delicious meal you will ever taste. And the more complete the betrayal, the better the flavour.
—Geschichts Verdreher, Gefahrgeist
Wichtig, sprawled on the floor in cooling ponds of his own vomit, stared up at Morgen’s reflection. It wasn’t just the grime of the glass making the boy look dirty, his face looked like it’d been rubbed in mud. “You’re not Morgen?”
“No.”
He closed his eyes, feeling something sharp grit into his back. I probably puked up one of my own swallowed teeth. “Then piss off.”
“His Reflections Ascended alongside him,” said the Reflection. “He’s broken. We all are. Even you. Especially you.”
“I’m staying with piss off, Morgen.”
“Call me Nacht.”
“You’re another damned albtraum aren’t you,” said Wichtig, opening his eyes to glare blearily up at the boy. “Come to finish what you started?”
“I chased it away. I saved you.”
“It wasn’t Morgen?”
The boy laughed, holding up a hand to admire the dirt-encrusted fingernails “He wants you dead. Why else would he send Stehlen after you?”
Stehlen? What is he going on about?
The tower. The slain guards. All the clothes and weapons tossed in the midden. Why was that so damned difficult to remember?
“I knew it was her,” said Wichtig. Why didn’t she kill me? “That was her at the border tower.”
“Of course,” sad Nacht. “She’s following you.
“Why didn’t—”
“She wants you to lead her to Bedeckt.”
“I’ll kill her first,” said Wichtig.
Nacht laughed, a sour and mocking sound that should never come from a small boy. “Don’t be silly. This is Stehlen. You’ll either never see her, or if you do it’s because she’s killed you and she doesn’t care what you see.”
“Shite,” swore Wichtig. He wanted to brag about how he’d outsmart her at every turn, but felt crushed and beaten. He was too tired to rise off the floor, never mind fight the most frighteningly dangerous person he ever met. Sprawled in puke, Wichtig examined the Reflection. He was everything Morgen could never be. But was this good or bad for Wichtig? This little bastard wants something. The Swordsman decided to wait. It wasn’t like he had plans beyond the floor anyway. Apathy, he decided, is a lovely bargaining tool.
“You killed a half dozen of the best Swordsmen in Unbrauchbar tonight,” said Nacht.
“I think I remember two.”
“You’re very drunk.”
“Don’t feel drunk.” He felt no pain. Had this little godling shite healed him as Morgen once healed Bedeckt?
Wichtig licked his lips and tasted blood and catgut stitches. He lifted his left hand and glanced at the bandage there, now stained by fresh blood. Whether his or someone else’s, Wichtig had no idea. The fingers were still missing.
“Am I dreaming?” Wichtig asked.
“No,” said Nacht. “I’m here to offer you a deal.”
“If you’re really a god like Morgen, how are you here? I heard gods were limited by the boundaries and borders of their faithful. We’re not in Selbsthass any more.”
“Morgen crossed the bridge into Gottlos just moments ago,” said Nacht with ill-concealed impatience. “And I’m not a true god, not yet. Not until—”
“Not until Morgen is dead.”
“Yes.”
“What’s the difference between you and an albtraum?”
The boy stared down at him as if he couldn’t believe the sheer balls-out temerity of such a question. “Power. I am the Reflection of a god.”
Wichtig blew a mocking fart with rubbery lips. “A mad god.”