Konig nodded again, calm and subservient as the real Konig had never been. “Twenty thousand men and women camped outside the city will put a serious drain on resources.”
“I’ve planned for everything.” Morgen glanced at the hand mirror Konig propped on a table during every meeting with his god. Failure watched from within, eyes sharp, measuring. This was the real Konig. While his Reflection might have won its battle with the original, trapping him in the mirror and taking his place, it was the man in the mirror that Morgen feared. This man—or Reflection, or whatever he was now—had essentially created Morgen, shaping the beliefs of an entire city-state to make their new god. Sometimes Morgen wondered who the populace of Selbsthass believed in more: Konig, or himself.
Failure might be imprisoned in a mirror, but Morgen knew the man was incapable of surrender. No doubt he still plotted to use and control the god he created.
“We have company,” said Failure.
Morgen turned, knowing what he’d see. A blond boy, as filthy as Morgen was clean, watched from within the tall brass-mounted mirror in the corner. Nacht, one of Morgen’s many Ascended Reflections, grinned stained teeth. His Reflections had plotted against him, used his ignorance, and played their part in his death. They—as much as Bedeckt and his friends—were to blame for his demise.
“Where are the others?” asked Morgen. Most of his Reflections vanished after Ascending. Only Nacht remained, torturing Morgen with his corruption.
Nacht grinned. “I, too, learned from our friends.”
“They aren’t friends. And what does that mean?”
“The other Reflections, they were competitors.”
“So?” demanded Morgen.
“I killed them all.” Nacht shrugged slim shoulders and wrinkled his nose. “Got something on your hands.” The Reflection’s hands were oddly clean.
Morgen resisted the urge to check his fingernails. He knew what he’d find. “Go away. We’re busy.”
Nacht was everything Morgen wasn’t. He wore his carefree grin like armour. Nothing touched him.
“Bedeckt is gone,” said the Reflection. “He escaped the Afterdeath.”
Morgen knew it to be true. Gone were the shackles of servitude enforced by the Warrior’s Credo. It must have happened moments ago or he would have noticed.
“I know,” lied Morgen. “Now go away.”
“I could leave,” said Nacht, flashing that annoying cocky grin which reminded Morgen of Wichtig, “but you’re going to need me in a moment.”
“I don’t—” Morgen didn’t finish. His Reflection saw glimpses of possible futures. Nacht wouldn’t be here to bother me unless he knows something important. He feigned calm. I, too, learned from Wichtig. “Bedeckt is gone, he’s alive. Our bond snapped when he returned to life.”
The dirty boy in the mirror licked his lips in anticipation, clearly enjoying whatever he thought he held over Morgen. “Bedeckt is an old man.”
“So?”
“What happens when he dies?”
“He’ll no doubt return to the Afterdeath.”
“And your bond, the Warrior’s Credo. What of that?”
“What of it? It broke when he returned to life.”
“Will it remain broken?”
Morgen blinked at his Reflection. He had no idea. Would Morgen once again be forced to serve the old axe man? Even if Bedeckt hadn’t made use of his power over Morgen there was no reason to think he wouldn’t someday abuse that power. In fact, there was every reason to think he would.
“I think not,” said Morgen. “The bond is broken.”
“But you don’t know,” said Nacht. “Can you take that chance?”
“That’s a nice try, but I know all about lying.”
“Yes, Bedeckt taught you. He made you what you are.”
Not quite true. Stehlen, Wichtig, and Erbrechen, the Slaver, all played parts in shaping him. But Bedeckt was at the heart of everything. It had been the old man’s idea to steal Morgen away from the Geborene and ransom him back like some prize pig.
“I don’t need you,” said Morgen.
“Even Ascended, I’m your Reflection. I see the future.”
The mirror ever lies. If only he’d known that before. If only someone thought to warn him of the danger of listening to his Reflections. Everything would have been different. He wanted to torture Konig for keeping him blinded in ignorance. He wanted to crush the bug to the floor and watch him squirm, to hear the creak of his ribs and the groan of his bones. But this Konig, the one who stood waiting, was not the Konig Morgen wanted to hurt. That Konig, Failure, was safe in his mirror. If Morgen broke that mirror, the Reflection would appear in another.
“And what do you see?” Morgen asked. He listened for lies, ready to dig the nugget of truth from the shite Nacht was no doubt about to spill.
“Bedeckt brought a Mirrorist from the Afterdeath. She’s powerful.”
“Why? How do her delusions manifest?”
Nacht shrugged. “People will pursue our old friend, planning to kill him.”
They believe killing Bedeckt will give them power over me. “And why tell me?” he asked, suspecting he knew the answer. Does Nacht want me to chase after Bedeckt for some reason?