The Mirror's Truth (Manifest Delusions #2)

She really is brutally efficient with those swords, mused Stehlen. She’s gorgeous to watch. She showed none of Wichtig’s flare and showmanship, which was probably why Wichtig was the Greatest Swordsman in the World—Stehlen could admit that as long as the arse wasn’t around—and Lebendig was just great.

But comparing Lebendig with Bedeckt hurt. I loved him and he killed me to protect that insipid little shite of a godling. And for what? So the little bastard could build a militant theocracy of obsessive arseholes? She’d heard from those who’d died after her own death that Selbsthass and Gottlos would soon be at war. It was only a matter of time before the grubby little kingdom fell before the directed faith of the Geborene.

The guards stepped forward to block their way. Stehlen relaxed, suppressed the urge to steal from them or leave their corpses littering the immaculate street. Lebendig would handle everything. Her calm demeanour made such things so much easier, so much less violent.

“Gentlemen,” said Lebendig, her large hands resting easily on the horn of the saddle. “We’re…” She trailed off as the guards glanced past her at Stehlen and parted to make way.

Stehlen and Lebendig rode past unhindered and unquestioned.

“What’s the point of having guards if they’re going to let the likes of us in?” asked Stehlen. “Who would they turn away?”

Lebendig shrugged.

Too easy. Something is wrong. Stehlen growled at her horse, urging it to take the lead. The beast’s ears flicked and twitched like it was afraid she’d hit it.

The streets were straight, impossibly straight. They were clean last time she was here, but now every cobblestone gleamed like it was polished and shellacked. The city’s populace, fat and soft and clean, gave them a wide berth but otherwise ignored them. The buildings had all been painted white since her last visit. Every third person wore the white robes of the Geborene. She didn’t remember seeing priests outside of the temple last time. And the Geborene were armed, new swords hanging at their side, chain armour concealed beneath vestments. Pig-sticking religions. Stehlen loathed all who were so weak as to willingly sell their choices for the illusory safety of religious precepts.

Stehlen saw the Leichtes Haus ahead and said, “There it is,” unnecessarily.

Lebendig grunted agreement, gaze sliding from one fat citizen to the next like grease skittering on a hot pan. “No Swordsmen,” she said.

Stehlen bit back the urge to say ‘good’ and nodded. Swordsmen were like rats. Every city-state had them. No doubt the idiots would be somewhere, lurking in taverns and boasting to half-wit barmaids about how amazing they were.

A single grey horse stood tied to the Leichtes Haus horse rail. Stehlen recognized it. Wichtig was here. She saw no sign of Bedeckt’s horse. Immediately upon finding a beast large enough to carry his fat old arse and black enough to suit whatever passed for his tastes, Bedeckt promptly named it Kriegsgetier. He still whined about missing Launisch. Sentimental fool.

Stehlen slid from her horse and tied it beside Wichtig’s. He must be waiting within, and Bedeckt had yet to arrive. She didn’t relish facing the Swordsman and his speculative glances at Lebendig as if he too wondered what the women shared. So far he hadn’t said anything and that made her more nervous than if he prattled on in his usual babble of petty Gefahrgeist manipulation. It meant he planned something, was saving his bile for something special. She hesitated to enter the inn with the Swordswoman at her side. Would Wichtig ridicule Stehlen? He had a talent for spotting weakness, no doubt an aspect of his Gefahrgeist power. Would he poke holes in her doubts, tearing them into gaping wounds? Would he feign happiness for her while carefully failing to conceal the pity in his eyes? Or would he not give a shite? All seemed equally likely. No matter what his surface reaction, she knew she couldn’t trust it.

I should have killed him years ago.

Lebendig dismounted and Stehlen’s head ached with pent tension.

“Wait here.” Stehlen entered the inn without looking back, knowing Lebendig would obey.

She has to, you killed her.

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