Stehlen thought about her promise not to lie. At least not about the important things. This was important, at least to Stehlen.
“Bedeckt saved me once. The World’s Greatest Moron and I were attacked by albtraum as we slept. Bedeckt saved us both. He didn’t have to. I wouldn’t have. I owe him.”
“So you feel you owe him—”
“And then he killed me to save Morgen, the Geborene godling.”
“So you owe him for—”
“I don’t know.” Stehlen’s jaw felt like it would explode. Hissing, she spat again, a thin stream of yellow phlegm. “Bedeckt… He is—was—my…” She stole a glance at Lebendig. “My friend. I want to kill him, but Morgen wants him dead so I want to ruin whatever his plans are. I’m torn. How do I get what I want?”
“What do you want?”
“How the hells would I know?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Madness, defined and limited by unbreakable laws, is clearly not madness at all. Our reality is the result of careful thought and planning. This world was built, designed. This is our prison. Until we are cleansed, until we have suffered for our forgotten sins, we shall remain chained. The T?uschung shall free humanity to once again take our place among the gods.
—Zerfall, Founder of the T?uschung
The rising sun warming their backs, Erdbehüter and Ungeist stood atop a long sloping hill looking down upon a sleepy farming community of a dozen homesteads. The Geborene priests’ white robes, first stained red with blood, were now smeared black and brown. No hint of white remained. With the rising of the sun, the sky opened and vomited a torrent of rain upon them, leaving both soaked through. Water fell like it was a hammer, and Erdbehüter a nail it wanted pounded into the Gottlos muck. Was the Earth Spirit angry? Or was this cleansing rain a message: Scrape free the infection.
Even miserable and staggering with exhaustion, Ungeist still had the energy to ogle her through her filthy and sodden robes. She ignored him.
A corral built of logs, suffering decades of damp-rot, held a dozen goats and sheep prisoner. Erdbehüter resisted the urge to command the earth to tear down the obstruction. Fences were a sin against the Earth Spirit. All creatures were meant to roam free.
And what was that you built around Selbsthass for your god?
That was different. Morgen did the Earth Spirit’s bidding.
He builds cities. He made you wear clothes. He wages war. Animals don’t war.
Why did she think Morgen served the Earth Spirit?
Because he told you. She remembered him explaining how they worked to the same purpose, how they both strove for a perfect world. It all made sense at the time. Now, however, it was difficult equating Morgen’s spotless cities to the earth and mud of nature.
I made him a gods-damned wall! What the hells was she been thinking? A wall! And now she—
“It would have been faster to pass through Unbrauchbar,” complained Ungeist, interrupting her thoughts.
Erdbehüter blinked at the priest, trying to recall what she was thinking about. It had something to do with Morgen and what she was doing out here—
“We could have slept in a real bed,” he added, wiping water from his eyes.
“A bed?” She wasn’t sure what she was angrier about, the assumption she’d share anything with him, or that she’d be enticed by the trappings of civilization. Civilization, that was it! I was thinking about cities and walls and—
“We could have shared a bath.”
Hair plastered to her skull and caked in mud, Erdbehüter felt cleaner than she had in months. Dirt washed away the stink of civilization, reminded her what she was: an animal.
Ungeist did that thing where he pretended to look into her, as if he knew her thoughts and hungers.
“There are over one thousand souls in Unbrauchbar,” she said, ignoring his attempt to seduce her with his eyes. The thought of rolling him in the muck and rain appealed, but this was neither the time nor place. “Most of them sane. They would have nullified your delusions, left you powerless. What if we ran into trouble? King Schmutzig must have spies there by now. He knows war is coming.”
“My delusions?” Ungeist pulled his attention from her tits. “And yours?”
“I am sane. I do the Earth Spirit’s bidding.”
He tilted his head back, opening his mouth to collect water before spitting it out and saying, “Can you ask the Earth Spirit to let up on the rain?”
“Earth Spirit. The sky is dead to me.”
Ungeist shook his head, grunting a low laugh. “Earth spirit. Sure. Totally sane.”
Erdbehüter showed teeth in a feral snarl. “Careful. Just because the world’s insane manifest their madness doesn’t mean everyone who can change reality is crazy.”
He rolled his eyes. This was no new argument. He was incapable of seeing the difference between insanity and serving the Earth Spirit. “Fine,” he said, gesturing toward the village. “I’m starving. We’ll purchase food and new clothes here.”