Nacht bowed again. Just so. We are together in this, united. He examined Morgen, eyes mocking and bright, dirty face framed in tangled blond hair. For now.
Morgen looked north toward Selbsthass. Crushing Konig would be nothing. He wanted to return. The thought of improving all his believers as he had his army, ran shivers of excitement through him. He craved their perfect worship. He saw at Unbrauchbar what happened when he allowed his believers the freedom of choice. For so long he believed a person’s reasons must matter, but he was wrong. Such flawed creatures could never make perfect choices, could never have perfect reasons. When they are perfect, I’ll return to them their freedom.
Morgen nodded, accepting. “We return immediately.”
***
Nacht watched Morgen give the ruined farmhouse one last look, eyes lingering on Bedeckt’s corpse, before marching away to return to his enslaved troops. He looks sad, scared.
Was this a victory? In spite of everything playing out exactly as Nacht wanted—from Morgen’s embracing his madness and enslaving his own people, to the godling’s handing over control of the Selbsthass army—it didn’t feel like it. He felt like while he manipulated Morgen, someone else pulled his strings. How could everything lead here with no chance of ending differently? Who could do that? Could a Mirrorist achieve such power and control without tilting over the Pinnacle? It seemed unlikely.
Originally he planned on playing the long game, slowly dragging Morgen down, drowning the pristine little shite in filth and blood. The godling’s obsession with cleanliness and order would break him when he finally understood the world could never be that. The more Nacht thought about it, the more he saw Morgen as a weakness.
I need to be real. And sooner rather than later.
Nacht examined Stehlen’s corpse. Gods she was hideous. She’s perfect. Once again dead, she’d be in the Afterdeath along with whoever she killed in her short time among the living. Probably dozens.
Could he use her?
Of course I can.
But should he? Stehlen was dangerous.
Manipulating her will be easy.
EPILOGUE
We live meaningless lives and then die. Why should the Afterdeath be any different?
—Unknown
Stehlen lay on the floor in a farmhouse located somewhere south of Unbrauchbar but still north of Gottlos, the capital. Her sword and two of her knives were gone. She didn’t have to check, she just knew. She felt their absence. Those saddle bags—loaded with wealth stolen from the border garrison—were gone too. She’d dropped them somewhere.
Peering over her shoulder, she saw the pommel of Wichtig’s second sword. Did he leave it with me on purpose, to make sure I have a good blade in the Afterdeath? Or did he realize a man with only one good hand had little use for two swords? She couldn’t imagine him being thoughtful.
Pushing herself to a sitting position, she glanced about the ruined house. Here, in the Afterdeath, the wall and ceiling had not been destroyed by a plummeting horse. Here the floor wasn’t littered with the corpses of friends and lovers. There was, however, a crowd huddled together, watching her. Waiting. A score or so she recognized as the guards and staff of the Gottlos garrison.
“She’s awake,” said the leathery old guard, nudging his partner in the ribs with a sharp elbow.
“I can see that,” said the fat one. “I’m not stupid.”
The Swordsman she killed in Unbrauchbar was there too. He still didn’t have a sword.
The Geborene Wahnist who thought she controlled earth and stone stepped forward, eyes round with madness. Death did nothing to distance her from the Pinnacle.
“The Warrior’s Credo says I must serve,” she said. “But I serve only—”
Unwilling to hear more, Stehlen killed her.
“And me?” said Lebendig, pushing her way to the front of the crowd. “What will you do with me?”
Stehlen bowed her head, stared at the earthen floor.
I killed her. Again. She must serve, but how could she ever forgive?
She blinked and tears fell on her sodden boots.
You kept promising her you would talk.
But she always let something distract her. She was a coward.
Well you’re dead. Still afraid?
She met her lover’s gaze. “I will go on doing as I have always done,” she said.
Lebendig watched, said nothing, gave nothing away.
“I will go on loving you.”
“It’s easier, isn’t it,” said Lebendig. “It’s easier when you know I have no choice but to—”
“I free you from your bonds of service,” said Stehlen. “I have no hold on you. I free you all.”
After a moment of confusion, the crowd realized what happened and a score of heartbeats later Stehlen and Lebendig stood alone in the farmhouse.
“Will you kill me now?” asked Stehlen.
“Do you think I could?”
“Probably not.”
Lebendig nodded her acceptance.
“Are you leaving now?” Stehlen asked, voice small.
“Not yet.”
“Are you waiting until I sleep to kill me?”
Lebendig shrugged, said nothing.
“You’re going to travel with me?”
“For a while.”