Zukunft looked away, watching a couple at another table lost in their own discussion. “It doesn’t matter.”
The sight of the boy, broken and tortured, stayed with Bedeckt. We’re not going off on some wild chase because the boy reminds you of Morgen. “Can you see what happens to Stehlen and Wichtig if we go after the boy?” He cursed himself for asking.
“They’ll get ahead of us,” said Zukunft.
That wasn’t all bad. Following behind Stehlen and Wichtig might actually be better than being pursued by them. He wouldn’t mind having a little more control over when they finally met. If Stehlen found him before he was ready, she might kill him before he had a chance to explain. She might kill you any way.
“Tell me who she is,” said Bedeckt, gesturing at the mirror.
“This isn’t when I tell you.”
“Do you know when you do tell me?”
Zukunft shook her head.
Gods-damned Geisteskranken. And yet you keep choosing to travel with them. They had their uses, but madness left them unpredictable. There was no plan without this girl’s ability to see into the future. If she—or whatever she hallucinated in her mirror—wanted him to go after this boy, then perhaps that’s exactly what he should do. He needed her, and if she needed this…whatever it was…then he could give it to her.
Sure you’re not justifying a bad choice?
Bedeckt slammed back the last of his pint. “You going to drink that?” he asked, eyeing her still untouched pint.
“No.”
Then why the hells did she order it? He took the mug in his half-hand and drained it in a long swallow.
“Ale makes you fat,” she said.
Bedeckt glanced down at the gut hanging over his belt. “It makes me happy.” He scowled at her. “And wasting money makes you poor.”
“Sure thing, Daddy,” she said.
Daddy? You didn’t actually think she found you attractive did you? Snarling, Bedeckt rose, his knees popping, the muscles in his lower back feeling like someone crushed them in a vice. “We need horses.”
Gods he missed Launisch, his old war horse. What a fine beast that had been. For a moment he considered asking Zukunft if she could find where his horse was, but decided against it. There were already too many damned distractions.
The horse trader knew Bedeckt was in a rush and took full advantage. Cursing the man and his offspring for a thousand generations, Bedeckt left with two barely passable mounts, saddles looking older than he was, and very little coin.
They rode through Selbsthass City, toward the southern gate. The colossal wall grew ever more impressive as they approached. He didn’t like it. Belief defined reality, but this wasn’t possible. He’d been dead only two weeks, not nearly enough time to convince an entire population of the wall’s existence. Even in this responsive reality men built walls by hand. Belief was too fickle, too difficult to guarantee. It was far easier to build structures of wood and stone than delusion.
And yet no one paid the wall any attention.
It must have been here for years.
Bedeckt approached a merchant selling fruit, Zukunft following.
He gestured at the wall with his half hand. “How long has that been here?”
The merchant blinked up at Bedeckt—still mounted—and decided answering was the quickest path to getting rid of the brute. “The wall? Almost eight years.”
Bedeckt turned his horse back into the street. Eight years. That wasn’t possible. He was here less than a month ago and there’d been no wall.
The proof of his inaccurate belief towered over him and Bedeckt, as sane a man as ever walked the earth, accepted the evidence before him. Somehow years passed during the brief time he spent in the Afterdeath. He grinned. It would piss Wichtig off that his reputation had no doubt faded—maybe even been completely forgotten.
Gods knew what might have changed, what mad new religions may have been birthed by the febrile minds of man. It did mean Selbsthass had been preparing for war for longer than he thought. It also meant Morgen had more time to build his power base than Bedeckt liked. What other city-states had the Geborene spread to?
The crowd of pedestrians thinned and Bedeckt saw more and more armed priests, often travelling in squads. The city looked calm, peaceful. He couldn’t imagine what these roving bands of armed priests did. He saw no signs of dissent or poverty. Even Geldangelegenheiten, with its mad worship of gold, had vagrants and beggars. Here, Bedeckt saw no one who didn’t look well fed and gainfully employed.