“You interrupted me.”
“Don’t be childish, my pretty. You shall be perfection, a core of humanity and nothing more. Imagine the freedom.”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m imagining it. I’m guessing I’ll still end up dead.”
Again she looked appalled at his words, like he called her the worst names imaginable. “I would never kill another living thing. I’m a vegetarian, you know. I care deeply about all life.”
“Well this life wants to keep all its bits, necessary or not,” said Wichtig.
“Once they’re gone you’ll understand how much better off you are without them. It’s my gift.”
“Keep your damned gift. I’m no spy and if you torture me, of course I’m going to admit to being a spy.”
“So you admit you’re a spy?”
“No. I’m saying if you torture me I’ll admit to being one.”
“You’ll only admit it if I torture you?” she asked. “Fine.”
Schnitter retreated in shuffling steps and stripped away the gauze to reveal the damage beneath. Many of her wounds remained raw, angry and puckered. Her breasts, carved away, were ragged rolling scars of torn flesh tucked within itself and crudely sewn shut. Her left leg ended in a stump, a simple wood prosthesis strapped into place. The leather chafed her slim hips bloody. Squares of flesh, cut away over many years, left her a patchwork quilt of pain and smooth unblemished flesh.
Schnitter removed the gauze covering her face last, exposing a grinning mouth devoid of teeth. She stuck her tongue out at Wichtig. It was trimmed it to a nub, leaving just enough to speak coherently. Her eyebrows and hair looked to have been yanked out by the fistful, the exposed skin inflamed. Her eyes were beautiful, the most amazing dark brown.
And then he saw the gaping and wheezing pit where her nose should have been. Mucus leaked from the hole.
That explains the voice, he thought numbly. His mind stumbled, trying to fit the pieces together. Anywhere she hadn’t maimed herself, she was flawless. If she’ll do that to herself… He shied from finishing the thought. Unable to look away from the heart-shaped face, Wichtig realized what he saw.
“You were beautiful,” he said. “Why?”
The K?rperidentit?t, ignoring his question, turned to examine the table of utensils. Wichtig saw her ears too were cut away leaving lumpen scars in the side of her head. People hacked Bedeckt’s ears off while trying to remove his huge wooden chunk of a skull, and still his looked better than this.
Finally, she shrugged. Snot leaked from her gaping sinus cavity. “What is beauty?” she asked. “What is beauty worth?”
The questions were so unfathomably stupid, Wichtig was left stunned. He blinked at the ruin of her face, seeing hints of what she had been. “It’s everything.”
“No, my pretty,” she said, voice coming from the pit of her nose as much as it did her mouth. “I’ll show you the truth.” Selecting a set of what looked like garden shears, Schnitter shuffled around Wichtig to stand at his feet. “Are you a spy?” she asked.
“No.”
She rolled his smallest toe between her fingers and he tried to clench his feet into fists.
Gripping the toe, Schnitter asked, “What does this toe do?”
This isn’t happening. Morgen, stop sticking about! Come and rescue your First Sword! “It plays an essential role in fine balance,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Balance, my pretty?” She nestled the toe between the cold blades of the shears and applied enough pressure to trap it there. “That only matters if you have legs.”
“I’m a spy,” said Wichtig.
“I know. For the Geborene god?”
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
She watched him, staring up the length of his body, ignoring its physical perfection. “Good,” she said.
“So no need for torture, right?”
Schnitter sniffed, and wiped at her leaking sinuses with a bare arm leaving a smear of mucus and pus. “This pointless toe offends me.”
“How about we leave the useless toe where it—”
Schnitter clipped the toe off. Even missing fingers, Wichtig was surprised by her strength. And then a raging inferno of pain washed away all thought. Wichtig screamed, thrashed about as much as his bonds allowed and howled insults, threats, and promises at the mad woman.
She waited patiently until he wound down and lay panting and gasping, face spattered in spittle.
“I’m going to kill you,” he promised.
“With what?” she asked.
Not wanting to suggest her next target, the Swordsman chose to remain quiet.
Schnitter held aloft his toe, again rolling it between her remaining fingers. “See how ugly this little thing is?” she asked.
“I want it back!”
“Not for long,” she said. “Soon you won’t even miss it.”
Shuffling back to her table of toys, she selected a steel bowl and dropped the toe within. “Arschloch will enjoy this.”
Wichtig’s foot screamed agony, sent pulses of heat up his leg. The foot felt hot and swollen. “Who?”
“My dog.”