The Kleptic pushed through the doors and stood just within the tavern. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light instantly. They always did.
No one glanced up at her entrance. It was like she wasn’t there. No one even seemed to have noticed the door had opened. She spotted Wichtig sitting in the centre of the room. Idiot. Anyone with even half a brain sat with their back to a corner. She should walk up and put a knife in his liver as a lesson. A young blond man—a Geborene priest, judging by the white robes—sat across from Wichtig. The youth’s hair was a shock of gold in the eternal grey of the Afterdeath. They were bent in conversation, unaware she stood watching. Stehlen cut across the room to get a better look at the priest. Still no one noticed her. When she saw his face she stopped. Morgen. The godling wore the skin of a man of maybe twenty years, but she recognized him. Where Wichtig was ruggedly handsome, square jaw and dark eyebrows framing flat grey eyes and a perfect nose, Morgen was blandly attractive and immediately forgettable. His flesh, pale and pink, was an affront, much like his hair. He wore life like a badge, stood out in this place of the dead like he was better. She wanted to open him.
Where the hells is Bedeckt?
Stehlen examined Wichtig, taking in his broad shoulders and perfect hair, mussed, but intentionally so. He sat slumped in his chair, relaxed and confident, winking at girls and offering soft words as they passed. He did it unconsciously, not even caring that they ignored him. Only his eyes, cold and calculating, betrayed the lie. There was no one in all the world Wichtig wouldn’t betray for the slightest gain, no matter how fleeting. He was a bastard and she hated him and she wanted to rut him and she wanted to gut him and leave him to bleed out in a dark alley.
A hot kernel of lust sparked to life.
She remembered Morgen standing over her, watching her die. He looked curious, nothing more. Not scared or sad, just inquisitive as to what she felt. He could have saved her. It didn’t matter that she held a knife hidden, ready to kill the boy if he came within reach. He could have tried.
Put a knife in the little shite.
Stehlen ghosted closer. Would it work? If she opened his throat, would he die? He is a god. True, but he was no more aware of her than the rest of these wretches. The old wooden floorboards beneath her feet didn’t creak. No eye turned in her direction. A barmaid stepped around her without noticing. Stehlen blinked, pausing for a moment to watch the woman deliver drinks to a table and wander off back behind the bar. I killed her. She examined the rest of the room’s inhabitants. I killed all of you. Well, except Wichtig and Morgen. She might yet rectify that little mistake.
When she first awoke in the Afterdeath after Bedeckt killed her, she found herself surrounded by an army of those she had slain. Why hadn’t these people been there awaiting her own death like the rest of her dead? They aren’t warriors, she noted. Did they not believe in the Warrior’s Credo? Was that all that saved them from an eternity of servitude? An interesting thought.
Here she was, following Bedeckt’s orders because she had no choice. He killed her. If she could learn to believe differently—that the Warrior’s Credo had no hold on her—could she free herself?
Do you want to?
She avoided the thought.
A crowd of people she killed following her around was creepier than she expected. After killing the dozen or so she wanted to kill again, she abandoned the rest. Not set them free of their need to serve, just wandered off and left them. Would they follow her here? She didn’t care.
Stehlen glanced again about the inn. Here were these people, free from servitude, and what had they done with their deaths? Gone back to the same gods-damned tavern to get right back to drinking themselves to whatever followed the Afterdeath.
What are you doing differently? Still following Bedeckt around like a bitch in heat.
She had to, she had no choice. He killed me.
But she was doing something different this time: Lebendig. Never before had Stehlen allowed someone to get so close. Never before had she trusted someone with so much.
You only trust her because she can’t betray you.
Stehlen’s teeth groaned in her skull and her jaw ached. She moved closer, standing behind the Swordsman, breathing his manly stink. She wanted to eat him. Even though she was plainly visible over Wichtig’s shoulder, the young godling failed to glance at her. He leaned close to Wichtig, muttering in conspiratorial tones. While the little shite hadn’t personally killed her, he was the reason Bedeckt had. Her hands itched for violence. Grab a fistful of hair and yank his head back, exposing that flawless expanse of soft throat. Drive the knife in hard and she could impale both arteries, one either side of the neck.
He stole from me. He killed Wichtig, stabbed him in the gut and left him to die a slow and painful death. No one got to kill Wichtig except Stehlen and the little shite took that from her. No one steals from me.