Konig, eyes wide, stepped forward. “You shouldn’t listen to—”
Morgen crushed him to the stone with a thought. Even if this wasn’t the Konig he wanted to hurt, it felt damned good. “Don’t interrupt.”
Konig whimpered from the floor, a pitiful wheeze.
“Even if you don’t take that threat seriously, there’s more.”
“More?”
“Bedeckt plans on stopping you somehow.”
Morgen laughed. “That’s ridiculous. If he wanted to stop me he should have done so here in the Afterdeath where he has some hold on me.”
“The Mirrorist showed him something.” Nacht smirked and Morgen resisted the urge to punch the mirror. “That’s why he left the Afterdeath.”
“What did she show him?”
Again the Reflection showed that smug look.
“You don’t know,” said Morgen.
“As I said,” continued Nacht, “I might be Ascended, but I am still your Reflection.”
Morgen understood. As a Reflection, Nacht still owed his existence to Morgen. “If Bedeckt finds some way of ending me, you’ll fall too.”
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” said the Reflection, eyes narrowing.
Of course you wouldn’t. Morgen gave Nacht his own cocky Wichtig grin. “You think I don’t have plans of my own?” He reached a hand into the pocket of his spotless robes and felt the warm wood of the figurines, toy soldiers of his three friends, carved by a witch-woman of the Faulig Forest tribes to the north. Caressing each one in turn, he knew exactly where the person they represented was. Were he to examine them he would see each in perfect detail, know their moods and physical states. The figurines changed as those they depicted changed. Wichtig and Stehlen were both in the Afterdeath, travelling toward Selbsthass, though not together. Interesting, Bedeckt left them behind. Why would Bedeckt do that? Why abandon his friends? They’re dirty and insane. Reason enough, he supposed. When Morgen touched the last carving he knew Nacht spoke the truth. Bedeckt was alive and somewhere in Selbsthass.
“Bedeckt is in Selbsthass,” said Morgen.
“How can you be sure?” Nacht asked.
So you can’t see everything! “I’ll kill him now.”
There was something in Nacht’s eyes, like Morgen was close to catching him at something. Had his Reflection already made a play against Bedeckt and failed? It would make sense. Why else tell Morgen unless Nacht already missed his chance at killing the old man?
“He uses his Mirrorist to see the future,” said Nacht. “He’ll stay a step ahead of you.”
“I’m a god,” said Morgen.
“Who can’t see the future.”
“But you can.”
“True. But…”
“But you won’t help me.”
“I will tell you that you do go after him. Just not yet.”
Not yet? “Why not?”
“Your army is not yet ready to march and you don’t want to venture south without the united faith of your troops to support you.” Nacht shrugged his I-don’t-give-a-shite shrug. “Or maybe you have a better plan. I can’t see reasons.”
Morgen understood. Reasons should matter. It was a failing that, no matter how powerful he became, he could never see the reasons underlying people’s choices. It was good to know his Reflection shared the weakness.
Konig and Failure would try to kill Bedeckt just on the off chance it would give them control of the god they created. They were trapped here in Selbsthass, couldn’t leave without Morgen’s permission. Nacht had more freedom of movement, could flit from mirror to mirror, but was a Reflection and trapped within those mirrors. His ability to interact with reality was limited to manipulating people to do his bidding. They’ll all send people to kill the old man. They had few other options.
Could Bedeckt’s Mirrorist truly keep him ahead of Morgen? That they escaped Nacht—and Morgen had no doubt his Reflection made an attempt on Bedeckt—suggested the Mirrorist was powerful indeed. If I’m drawn from the city on a prolonged chase, Failure and Konig will have a free hand here. He dared not leave them alone, at least not until he was prepared. I’ll have to send people of my own—people I can trust—to kill Bedeckt.
“You’ve missed something,” said Nacht, grinning as if he knew Morgen’s thoughts.
“What?”
“Some of your people are actually my people.”
“Ridiculous. Why would anyone follow you?”
“Not everyone is comfortable with your ideals as to what is acceptable. And like you, I am a god.”
“Lies.”
“Some of your Geisteskranken are my Geisteskranken.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” Nacht looked surprised, eyes wide with shock. “Does it not make sense that the polluted and broken of our religion might turn to me?
“My religion.”
Nacht’s pursed lips and hooded eyes bled smug.
The bastard was right. Of course some of Morgen’s Geisteskranken, terrified of what Morgen’s perfect world might mean for them, would be drawn to Nacht. Who could he trust?