Saddle bags thrown over their shoulders, Stehlen and Lebendig entered Unbrauchbar via the north gate. Lebendig staggered with exhaustion and Stehlen pretended not to notice.
Those guarding the walls studiously ignored the two women. No one was dumb enough to mistake them for servants of the Geborene. Everywhere they saw the signs of a city-state preparing for war. Men and women in uniform lounged against walls, eyeing pedestrians with the cocky hauteur of soldiers who have yet to see battle. Those buildings closest to the unimpressive wall showed signs of having been raided for construction materials to build that wall. Instead of clearing the remaining wreckage to create a killing zone, the hollowed shells of homes and shops were now populated by the city’s dispossessed. The largest of the structures—it looked to Stehlen to have once been a mill—was set aside as a hospice.
They know once the war starts they’ll have wounded and decided to keep them by the wall so they be the first to die when the defences fail. She wasn’t sure if whoever planned this was a genius or an utter idiot.
Glancing down a side street, she saw a score of rough iron cages leaning against walls. Each contained a corpse and a sign labelling the occupant either a traitor or a Geborene spy. Ignored by all, a dog worried at the leg of the corpse in the nearest cage. It gnawed through the knee and escaped with the rest of the leg. The cages were built to hang, but she saw nowhere to hang them from. More brilliant planning, no doubt.
Stehlen darted a narrow gaze at each tavern they passed until she found the right one.
“That one,” she said, stepping over a naked corpse as she crossed the street. The dead man had a neat hole over his heart.
Lebendig followed without comment.
The tavern was abuzz with talk of the return of Wichtig Lügner, the Greatest Swordsman in the World. The gathered men and women eyed Stehlen and Lebendig as they entered, and then wisely decided against bothering them. The Swordswoman claimed a table and collapsed into a chair with a groan while Stehlen approached the bar.
Dropping a coin on the pitted surface, Stehlen caught the innkeeper’s attention. When he approached, she grabbed him by the wrist and pinioned him with eyes bleeding yellow rage. He swallowed and squeaked.
“The idiot was here,” she said.
“Idjit?”
“Wichtig. Swordsman. Idiot.”
“Wichtig, he was here. Right here in this very tavern. I served him—”
Stehlen dragged the man closer and breathed on him until he shut up and looked woozy. “How long ago did he leave?”
“Not long.” The man shrugged, helpless. “Hour?”
She released him and he retreated. “Did he kill that man lying in the street?”
The innkeeper nodded. “And half a dozen others. All while so drunk he could barely stand and wearing nothing but a bed sheet.”
“We’ll take a room, food, and ale,” said Stehlen.
“Of course,” said the innkeeper. “No ale though. Got kartoffel.”
“I’m not drinking that shite,” said Stehlen. “Get ale.”
“But…” Meeting her eyes he trailed to silence and nodded. “Ale.”
Returning to the table Lebendig selected, Stehlen dropped into a chair. She sat across from the Swordswoman, as she always did with Bedeckt, to cover the angles and watch her back. She should go to bed. Get some sleep.
“He was here,” Stehlen said.
Lebendig nodded and gestured at the stained floor. A lot of blood had been spilled in this room, and spilled recently. The sweet rusting stench of rotten iron tickled Stehlen’s pinched nostrils.
“That was his handiwork,” said Stehlen. “He left not long before we arrived.” Was Wichtig improving? Did more people now believe in him? She contemplated facing an improved Wichtig. It’ll be nothing. I’ll still gut the stupid bastard. She’d kill him before he finished bragging.
“Shall we go after him?”
Stehlen gnawed on her bottom lip, chewing until she tasted blood. Then she spat. Lebendig looked like she might slump out of the chair and pass out on the floor. “We’ll go in the morning.”
“Nice to sleep in a bed,” said Lebendig.
Stehlen nodded agreement. It’d be nice to do other things too. Things that were less comfortable on the hard ground. Things Lebendig probably wouldn’t survive in her current state. “We’ll buy horses in the morning,” she said.
The innkeeper arrived with food and ale and fled back to the safety of his bar. Then, when a preening soldier demanded ale, he clubbed the man with an axe handle and tossed the limp and unconscious body out of the inn.
An hour later they took a room on the rickety second floor. Lebendig, who crawled straight into bed the moment she shed her armour, lay sleeping. Stehlen stayed with her for a while, watching her breathe and trying to understand the sour feeling in her own stomach. How could watching someone sleep be so terrifying?
She’s mine. I don’t want to lose her.