They nodded, eyes never leaving her ale.
“He killed people, here in this inn?” she asked.
Again they nodded in unison.
“You were here?” she asked.
Nod.
“Tell me about it and there’s ale in it for you.” She whistled a sharp blast at the innkeeper and gestured at the two men.
“He killed half a dozen Swordsmen one after the other, right here,” said Geil as his ale arrived.
“He killed one without even leaving his chair,” said S?ufer.
As the two men sipped their ale with a reverence she couldn’t begin to understand, she took a moment to appreciate what she achieved. Wichtig’s ability to manipulate was no great thing. She achieved the same thing. It was easy. And here I am getting information and I haven’t even killed anyone. She felt quite pleased with herself.
“Word is,” said Geil, setting his mug down, “Wichtig returned from the dead to save his oldest friend.”
“Where did that word come from?” asked Stehlen, guessing she already knew. Even when sober the Swordsman couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“He was staggering drunk. Kept screaming at people. Attacked an empty chair at one point,” said S?ufer.
“Killed it for sure,” added Geil.
“Right,” agreed S?ufer. “Dead. Said he had to save his friend from some mad and vengeful god—”
“Like there’s another kind,” said Geil, lifting his pint to sniff appreciatively at the contents before taking the smallest sip, just enough to wet his lips. “I haven’t had ale in—”
“Vengeful god,” repeated S?ufer, annoyed at the interruption. “Had to save him from a god and some hideous assassin wench.”
S?ufer’s teeth clacked shut as his eyes met Stehlen’s. She saw his brain working, trying to decide if he should say something else, change the topic, or make a run for the door.
“If you stand,” she said with a sweet smile that drained the colour from his face, “your friend will be finishing your pint.”
“I…”
“Huh?” said Geil, confused. “I can have his pint?”
“You—shite—you’re the assassin,” said S?ufer.
“Are you saying I’m hideous?” So much for not killing anyone.
“You’re no beauty,” said Geil, “but I’d stick you. My wife— What?”
S?ufer shook his head, raising his hands to show they were empty and he offered no threat. As if killing unarmed idiots was on Stehlen’s list of— Shite. Bedeckt and his damned list. I have no list. There is nothing I won’t do. Honour and ethics were a weakness. Stehlen considered killing this idiot to prove it.
“I’m no assassin,” she said.
“Of course not,” said S?ufer. “I never. I didn’t mean to.” He licked his lips. “I’m not very smart.”
Smarter than you know, thought Stehlen, deciding not to kill the man. At least not yet.
Stehlen waved at the innkeeper to bring another round of ales. It was a strange feeling, this magnanimous not killing people thing.
“Um,” said S?ufer.
“Hmm?”
S?ufer nodded in the direction of a slim man sitting alone at a table. A sheathed sword lay on the table before him. “That was the second last man to face the World’s Greatest Swordsman.”
Stehlen watched the Swordsman, noted the haunted look in his eyes. “He’s still alive.”
“Wichtig told him if he removed his sword and never put it on again,” said Geil, “he’d let him live.”
“He’s been sitting there ever since,” said S?ufer. “I think he’s afraid to touch his sword.”
Stehlen left the two men and sat across from the Swordsman. When he didn’t notice her she kicked him under the table.
The Swordsman twitched, looking around, confused.
“Right here,” Stehlen said.
Red rimmed eyes, bleary and unfocussed with drink, found her. Has he been crying? Amazing. What must it feel like to have a dream crushed?
Have you never had a dream stolen from you?
No one stole from Stehlen.
Bedeckt. Once you dreamed you and he could be together.
Stehlen bared yellow teeth at the Swordsman. “Wichtig used to lay his swords out on the table. Just like that.”
The Swordsman watched her.
“He’d pretend to be drunk and hope that some idiot would come along and challenge him to a duel.”
The Swordsman darted a glance at his sword and pursed his lips. Picking up his mug of kartoffel, he used it to nudge the sword farther away as if afraid to touch it.