She’s tired. Sawing through bone isn’t easy. She’ll need a break. Wichtig held his breath. His left hand was soaked in blood from the severed fingers. If she left him alone, with blood as a lubricant, he might work free of his bonds.
“That was difficult,” she admitted.
Thank gods.
“Something easier this time,” she said.
“No.”
Then she hacked off his left ear and tossed it into the bowl.
“Arschloch will eat well tonight,” she said. “But she needs something soft.” Schnitter grinned gums at Wichtig and leaned in to grip his manhood in strong fingers. “What shall we do about this useless thing?” She squeezed hard and Wichtig screamed. Lifting the saw, she licked her lips with hewn remnants of tongue, staring as if entranced.
Wichtig fainted.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Never tell a friend what you would conceal from an enemy.
—Basamortuan Proverb
Stehlen slid out from under Lebendig’s arm like a Kleptic departing the scene of a crime. Once in the hall, she picked a direction at random and wandered. She had no idea where Wichtig was but knew she’d find him. If she wandered lost long enough to become annoyed, she’d start killing people until someone told her where the idiot was.
Bedeckt would spend days planning this and still get lost.
She couldn’t decide which she preferred, finding Wichtig quickly and easily, or after much bloody mayhem. Shrugging the thought aside as irrelevant, she picked a corner at random and found herself staring down a long set of stairs disappearing into the tower’s basement.
Too easy. She contemplated ignoring them, but that was stupid and she preferred to leave stupidity to the men.
Stehlen descended, relying on her nose and ears to warn her of trouble. The stairs ended in a long cobwebbed passageway lined with iron-studded doors. A lit lantern hung from a hook by the last door. Below the lantern lay a massive hound, wrapped thick in muscle.
This was definitely the kind of place she’d keep a Swordsman.
The hound raised its muzzle, iron grey and painted red with blood. Sharp eyes searched the hall. Ears perked for sound, nostrils flared as it sought to catch the scent of whatever woke it. Stehlen watched the beast until it grunted and once again lay its massive head upon its front paws. She’d seen bears with smaller skulls than this dog.
Sliding a knife from its hidden place, Stehlen approached the animal. She never understood why people insisted on using animals as guards. The beasts only noticed important things. Since there wasn’t a Kleptic alive who thought they were worth of anything, and belief defined reality, guard dogs inevitably failed to notice them. The animals were only useful for keeping out the kind of people who were unlikely to want to steal from you.
Stehlen stood over the hound. It really was a fine beast, the perfect killing machine. Well, perfect for killing rabbits and the like. Probably fairly effective against Swordsmen too. Up close she saw the criss-cross of scars hidden beneath thick fur once black and now going to grey with age. An old killer, this one. It had seen many battles and survived, much like Stehlen. She felt a warm camaraderie for the hound and wanted to stroke it behind the ears. She wanted to wrap her arms around it in a tight hug.
She killed it instead.
Knowing it was not locked, Stehlen pushed the door open and stepped over the dog’s corpse. The room beyond was a stone cell lit with the slagged remains of a dozen candles jammed into empty wine bottles. A naked woman stood with her back to Stehlen, clucking quietly to the World’s Greatest Moron who lay, unconscious, strapped to a stone table. Another table—this one carved wood—sat against the far wall, lined in neatly arranged implements of torture. This woman shared some of the Geborene god’s obsessions with neatness.
The room reeked of fear and blood, a deep, back of the throat cloying stench.
Stehlen studied the naked woman, noting the amputated leg and missing fingers. The remaining foot sported only the largest toe, the rest were cut away. Even the woman’s hips seemed somehow shaved down.
K?rperidentit?t. There weren’t many breeds of Geisteskranken that disgusted Stehlen, but this was one. Even Befallen, with their infestations of parasites and bugs crawling under their skin, were preferable to this self-abuse. She understood the desire for punishment, knew it all too well, but abusing one’s self instead of earning it was cheating.
Stehlen glanced past the woman and noted one of Wichtig’s feet was bandaged as was his left hand. His left ear was cut away.
He always did want to be more like Bedeckt.
The woman lifted a saw and Stehlen realized she had a rather firm grip on Wichtig’s cock.
Stehlen decided there were limits as to what other people were allowed to do to her friends. The only person allowed to carve Wichtig up was Stehlen. This was exactly the kind of theft that angered her most.
“Leave that,” Stehlen said.
Releasing Wichtig, the woman turned. Her chest was a mass of ill-healed scar tissue. A dark and gaping pit, sniffing and snivelling in wet slurps, was all that remained of her nose. The woman—what remained of her—looked calm, unafraid.