Is she crying? He dared not look. His time with Stehlen and Wichtig hadn’t prepared him for tears. Even Morgen, the Geborene godling, hadn’t cried. “I…” Bedeckt didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t wrong.
“And so I’ll live each and every day I have. If my time is short, at least I’ll have used it well.”
Then what the hells are you doing here with me? For that matter, how had she ended up in the Afterdeath at such a tender age? She wasn’t bound by the Warrior’s Credo either. How had she managed that? Suicide? He hadn’t asked and he never would. He prayed she wouldn’t tell him. “Fine,” he said, still facing the door. “You’re all grown up.”
“Ah, sarcasm. The defence of cowards.”
“Cowards?” he said, pretending to listen to the street beyond. “If you had any idea what I’ve—”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“What question?”
“When you forget, you look at me like I’m a woman. But mostly you’re afraid to look at me at all. Are you missing more than an ear and some fingers?”
He heard the teasing tone but still said, “No,” and was annoyed at how defensive he sounded. Gods, she played him better than Wichtig. Was she Comorbidic, Gefahrgeist as well as Mirrorist? That could be a bad combination: a self-centred psychotic who knew the future. She’d see the outcome of her manipulations.
“Then why?” she asked, voice soft, pleading.
It’s an act. It had to be an act. “I have a list,” said Bedeckt, in spite of himself.
“A list?”
“Of things I won’t do.” He laughed. “It’s easier than listing the crimes I am willing to perpetrate.”
“Sometimes you don’t talk like the kind of man who slams another man’s head against the floor until his skull breaks.”
What did you say to something like that? Thanks?
“Looking at women is on your list?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then look at me.”
Bedeckt turned to face her with a growl. “We have things to do. We need horses and supplies.”
“Why am I on your list?”
“I don’t hurt children.” He swallowed, remembering the feel of sliding Stehlen’s knife into Morgen’s heart. Liar. But lying wasn’t on the list.
Zukunft opened and closed her mouth, changing her mind about whatever she first thought to say.
She knows I killed Morgen. She knew they were here to undo the damage he’d done.
She looked at him like she thought he was crazy. Or was that pity?
Bedeckt swung the door open and stepped into the street and a crush of pedestrian traffic. Sane folks pushed and shoved on their way to wherever the hell people who had lives not involving theft and murder went.
Bedeckt stopped and stood rooted. Selbsthass City in the Afterdeath was different from the Selbsthass City he and his murderous companions stole Morgen from, but this was different again. The streets had always been clean and straight, but now they were pristine, gleaming white. He blinked at the stones beneath his feet. Were they been white-washed, or replaced with white stones mined from wherever white stone came from? He remembered the people being softer and happier-looking than any city-state he previously visited; the bankers’ quarter of Geldangelegenheiten being the one possible exception. But these people, the crowd streaming past him, glowed with health. They were clean in a way no one was ever clean, their clothes crisp. He caught the scent of harsh soap and remembered Morgen’s obsession with cleanliness.
Stupid bastards have no idea what they created in their designed god.
“Stay close,” Bedeckt called over his shoulder.
Zukunft, right behind him, put a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tight. Glancing back, he saw fear in her eyes and said nothing. Was it the city, the press of people, or something else? Perhaps returning to life was scary for some folks. Certainly it wasn’t something anyone ever expected to do.
Bedeckt pushed his way into the crowd. Zukunft followed, her nails digging into the meat of his shoulder even through his chain armour. Everywhere he looked he saw Geborene priests, immaculate white livery worn over bright chain hauberk, polished swords hanging at hips. In the distance a massive wall towering ten times the height of a man surrounded the city. Men, white little dots, patrolled the top of the wall.
“This is impossible. I wasn’t dead more than two weeks.”
“What is it?” asked Zukunft, releasing her hold on him.
“I was here—I mean in this city, the living version—not more than two weeks ago.” He waved his partial hand, trying to encompass the entire city and its population. “Morgen couldn’t have built that wall and armed and armoured his priests in two weeks.”
“He’s a god,” said Zukunft.
Bedeckt eyed the people around them. No one seemed surprised or impressed by the city they walked through. This wasn’t something new. They were accustomed to the changes. Or Morgen somehow changed them too.
If he can do this in two weeks, nothing I can do will stop him.
Zukunft increased her pace until she walked at his side, long legs carrying her in a smooth stride, swinging her hips in a confident strut. Gone was the terrified girl who clung to him a moment ago. Was this bravado?
“What’s your thing?” she asked.