“You broke the mirror, even after I told you not to.”
Bedeckt stomped to the shattered mirror, stooped with a groan, and collected a shard. He straightened, rubbing his lower back, and held the fragment out in offering. “Use this.”
“Has to be an unbroken mirror,” she said.
“Why?”
“A sliver of glass…her heart…” Zukunft looked away. “Reasons.”
Damned Geisteskranken. He heard Stehlen’s voice in his head: Already your plan is going to shite, old man. Stehlen would hate Zukunft the instant she saw her.
Bedeckt stifled a laugh. The ugly Kleptic would want to kill him when she found out he left her behind. He pushed thoughts of Stehlen aside. She was a problem for later.
“Once we get you a new mirror you can tell me what direction we should be travelling, and what I need to do next?”
Zukunft watched him, eyes measuring. “You can still change your mind. We could go anywhere.”
We? Gods knew what was going on in the mad girl’s mind. “Does it matter how big it is?”
“The bigger the better,” she said, again raising an eyebrow.
Bedeckt ignored the innuendo. “Of course.” No way could he carry a floor-to-ceiling mirror around the city-states without breaking it. “Doesn’t effect how far you see?”
She shook her head, dark hair sweeping across her shoulders. “No.”
“What about something this big?” Bedeckt help up his hands making a circle with his fingers about the size of her face.
Zukunft shrugged, uncaring. “Good enough.”
He stared at the fragments of broken glass scattered about the floor. “How about a steel mirror, one that won’t break?”
Green eyes narrowed. “Has to be glass.”
A reflection is a reflection. “Why?”
“Because…” She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip. “Because glass is sharp when it breaks.” She drew short breaths, her chest rising and falling quickly and Bedeckt was glad she couldn’t see him watching her. “Glass cuts.”
“Fine,” Bedeckt said, dragging his eyes away. Damned Geisteskranken. “Let’s go.”
Approaching the only door in the room, Bedeckt hesitated. He wanted to know what was out there before he opened it. The entire plan relied on Zukunft keeping him a step ahead of everyone and already he was walking blind. Leaning forward he listened, hearing the sounds of a busy street beyond. Selbsthass City. The heart of the Geborene Theocracy. The last place he wanted to be.
Just survive long enough to get her a damned mirror. Whoever these Wütend worked for, they had failed. He was still alive.
“You know,” said Zukunft, leaving the sentence hanging.
“What?”
“Breaking a mirror is seven years’ bad luck.”
Bedeckt laughed, a humourless grunt. “If we live four days, I’d say we’re doing well.”
Zukunft’s jaw tightened, her fists clenched.
Was it something I said? He gestured at the corpses. “Search them for money.”
She stared at him, face an unreadable mask. “How about you search them.”
“There’s already blood on your dress.”
“And if I get any more blood on it I’ll be taking it off altogether.”
The dress, a green no doubt selected to match her eyes—though how she managed that in the greyness of the Afterdeath he couldn’t imagine—hung and clung in all the right places. Bedeckt turned his attention to the dead. Rather look at them than her, would you, old man?
No, and that was the problem. “I’ll search the bodies.”
Bedeckt hunted through blood-soaked pockets and money pouches without much luck.
“You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?” said Zukunft, watching him.
He straightened from the last corpse. It was a good thing he brought some coin. And having been out of Stehlen’s Kleptic presence for a week there was some chance he still had it. “Hardly,” he said. “I could crush you.” He made a fist with his whole hand, knuckles crunching.
“You’re afraid to look at me.”
He laughed, a derisive snort, and didn’t look at her.
“I remind you of someone? A daughter?”
“Gods, no.” Bedeckt returned to the door. “Let’s go.”
“A lady friend from a really, really, really long time ago?”
This time he turned to give her a dark scowl.
“Is that it? A lover from—”
“Do I seem the type to have lovers?”
“Some women like big men. You’re scarred and a right mess, but not ugly.” She tilted her head, examining him. “Not completely ugly,” she corrected.
“Thanks.” Bedeckt returned his attention to the door. The street beyond sounded utterly normal. Hopefully that meant there wasn’t an army out there waiting for him.
“So what is it?” she asked.
“You’re a child.”
“A child? Hardly. I’m—”
“When you’re my age you’ll understand.”
“That’s not going to happen,” she said, voice cracking. “I’m Geisteskranken. I’ve died once already and I’m only twenty. I won’t see half your age.”