—HOFFNUNGSLOS

Are you going to lie there all day?"

Stehlen looked up and saw Wichtig standing over her. Behind him the sky was a pale gray even though no clouds could be seen.

She needed to go east.

"I have something better to do?" she asked, just because agreeing with Wichtig set her teeth on edge.

"There's always vengeance," Wichtig suggested. "I would have thought revenge topped your list of reasons to get up even on a day you hadn't been killed."

Vengeance. Not long ago she would have happily sworn vengeance for the mildest slight, real or imagined. What was the point now? She grimaced up at Wichtig's handsome face.

"I'll just lie here awhile," she said to the sky.

Another man moved forward to stand beside Wichtig. He looked vaguely familiar. "Who is this?" he asked, staring down at Stehlen with disgust.

"She's my friend," answered Wichtig. He offered a hand to pull her up. "We are still friends, right?"

Stehlen accepted the hand and Wichtig lifted her easily to her feet. "Death changes nothing," she said. "I still can't stand you."

"Good. I'd hate to think it made you soft."

Now standing, she saw hundreds of men and women gathered around them.

"If I'd known dying would get me an army, I might have done it ages ago."

Wichtig's eyes lit with glee. "You don't get an army, remember. At least not for long. Whoever killed you gets the army."

She felt the life drain from her. I'll have to see him again. I'll have to serve him. After all he'd done to her. "I'll kill him," she swore.

Wichtig patted her rea.s.suringly on the back and then retreated when she glanced up at him. "I'm guessing you have the need to go east, eh?"

Stehlen growled an affirmative.

Wichtig looked very pleased with himself indeed. "The little b.a.s.t.a.r.d got you too. I wouldn't have though it possible."

"Bedeckt. It was Bedeckt."

The Swordsman's face lost all humor. "Oh."

"He killed me to protect the boy."

"Oh."

"You have nothing else to say?"

"I'm glad I'm not Bedeckt."

"G.o.ds-d.a.m.ned right," snarled Stehlen.

"But you're going east too."

"Yes."

"How strong is the pull?" Wichtig asked.

"Strong."

"So Bedeckt is going to die soon."

She stared at Wichtig until he fidgeted uncomfortably.

"So is the boy," he said. "I have to go east too. He's going to Ascend."

"Not if I kill him first."

"He'll already be dead," pointed out Wichtig, though he sounded none too sure of himself.

"There's always more death," said Vollk from behind Wichtig.

"I heard you last time," said Wichtig. "Stehlen. This is it. Your chance at redemption. Tell Bedeckt how you feel."

The b.a.s.t.a.r.d never gives up. She should kill him now and be done with it. No. Too easy. Better she beat him at his own game. Better he realize she could better him in all ways.

"Maybe," she said, looking him over. She poked him in the chest with a filthy finger. "Where are your swords? Don't tell me you lost them already."

Wichtig gestured at a large woman standing nearby. "She took them."

Stehlen recognized the woman. "And you just let her?"

"Well, there's more of them than us," Wichtig said defensively.

"I know," said Stehlen. "I just wanted to hear you admit it."

"b.i.t.c.h."

"I've killed more people than you. I win. And now we both know it."

"You cheated. Anyway, half of yours are total n.o.bodies. Most of mine are great Swordsmen."

Stehlen wafted his complaints away with an airy wave of her hand. "Doesn't matter. I have more." She turned to Lebendig Durchdachter. "Those two swords, give them back to Wichtig." Lebendig opened her mouth to argue. "Now," said Stehlen.

Lebendig's shoulders fell and she handed the swords back to Wichtig, who accepted them and returned his sword to Vollk.

"Don't think this means I owe you," he said.

"Think of it as a prize for coming in second," she said.

"This leaves me without a sword," said Lebendig. "I need a sword."

Stehlen pointed at Vollk. "You. Give her your sword."

"I'm not one of yours to command," growled Vollk, drawing the blade he'd just sheathed.

"If I were you," said Wichtig, "I'd do as she says. You're the one who keeps saying there's always more death."

"s.h.i.+te," said Vollk, handing Lebendig his sword.

"Anyway," said Wichtig, "I've got the feeling there's going to be a lot of extra swords lying around soon enough. Death follows Stehlen everywhere." He stopped, and suddenly grinned happily at Stehlen. "Speaking of swords, where are yours?"

"Lying on the road somewhere," answered Stehlen with a twisted grimace.

"Bedeckt didn't . . ."

"No. He didn't get the chance. The boy hit him in the head with a rock."

"Oh."

"Not to worry. Like you said, there will be a lot of extra swords lying around soon." Stehlen spun and stabbed the nearest sword-bearing man through the heart with one of her hidden daggers. He made a surprised gurgle and dropped like a stone. "Oh, look, here's one."

Wichtig scowled disapprovingly at the corpse.

"What?" she asked, disgusted.

"Was he one of mine or one of yours?"

Stehlen glanced at the corpse. He didn't look familiar, but few of these people did. "Does it matter?"

Morgen staggered east. The morning sun had yet to crest the horizon and the sky was lit b.l.o.o.d.y with fire. It would be a red, red day.

With each step he felt a damp squelching in his shoes. Some time during the night his feet had begun to ache. Then, for many hours, each step had been its own raw agony. Now they were numb and he was grateful. He dreaded what he would find when he removed his shoes.

Why didn't Konig give me real shoes instead of these silly slippers? Why hadn't Bedeckt or Stehlen or Wichtig pointed out how useless they were?

Because no one wanted him to stray far.

Even his shoes were a prison. He should take them off.

No. He didn't want to see his feet. They'd be a mess, and there was nowhere to clean them.

G.o.ds, his hands were filthy. He picked the dried blood from under a fingernail.

One foot after the other. Squelch, squelch.

Morgen looked up from his hands. The sun, hidden behind a thick layer of cloud, sat somewhere well above the horizon. East. Why east?

WHY WOULDN'T HIS reflections show him something useful? Did they hide truths just like everyone else? Who could he trust?

No one.

He blinked. His hands stung. He lifted one hand from the road to stare dumbly at the stones embedded in the palm. The hand was dirty. Spots of red soaked through a layer of fine road dust.

How long have I been kneeling?

Morgen pushed himself to his feet and looked for somewhere to clean his hands. Nothing. He tried wiping them on his pants, but they were filthy too.

Ahead he saw a crowd approaching. They looked something like what he'd expect a traveling circus to look like. He could hear songs of wors.h.i.+p sung in high and strained voices. A traveling church, maybe? He'd read of such things. Had he seen this in the reflections? He couldn't remember. He was so thirsty. Maybe they'd give him water.

Morgen sat on the road to wait.

Erbrechen swayed in his canopied litter, his monstrous belly, slick with sweat, moving in time to the measured tread of those who carried him. His a.r.s.e cheeks felt slippery and he wondered if he'd shat himself again. No matter, it was a pleasant enough sensation for now. He'd have one of his lads look into it later.

He kept a careful eye on Gehirn. The Ha.s.sebrand sat hunched, picking at something she kept hidden from sight. Even under the canopy on this cloudy day, the woman radiated heat. Her skin flaked red and raw, blistering as if she'd lain in the desert sun for days. The air around her rippled.

Shame this isn't winter, thought Erbrechen. I'd be toasty warm instead of swimming in a.r.s.e sweat.

How had he not seen the danger the Ha.s.sebrand would become? He'd been blinded by his need for love. For real love. He glanced past Gehirn and watched two children fight over the scrawny corpse of a plucked chicken. Not the empty wors.h.i.+p of fools. Was she any different? He'd almost believed she was. He peeled back his lips, baring his teeth at the Ha.s.sebrand's back. No, she's just like the others.

The snarl died, leaking from his face. G.o.ds, I'm so lonely.

The sight of two men leading a blond boy—filthy, but soft and fresh-faced—toward the litter interrupted Erbrechen's thoughts. Even under the coating of road dust, he could tell this lad had been well fed and pampered his entire life. l.u.s.t surged in him and he crushed it down.

Not now. If this was the boy Gehirn told him of, he must make him his.

Erbrechen called a halt and those carrying the litter stumbled to an awkward stop. The approaching men marched the boy forward to stand before Erbrechen. The lad, trembling from exhaustion, seemed barely aware of where he was.

"Oh, you poor boy," purred Erbrechen. "I see blood. Are you hurt?"

"Thirsty," croaked the boy, staring at his blood-encrusted hands. "Need to get clean."

"Of course, of course. I understand completely. You!" Erbrechen thrust a pudgy finger at a woman waiting nearby. "Fetch the boy water. Now!" The woman scurried away.

"Morgen?" said Gehirn.

The lad's head came up slowly and he stared dumbly at the Ha.s.sebrand. "Gehirn Schlechtes? Konig sent you to—"

"We're here to help," interrupted Erbrechen before Gehirn could say something stupid and ruin everything. "We're here to protect you. You can trust us." He shot the Ha.s.sebrand a meaningful look. "Right, Gehirn? Tell him he can trust us."

Gehirn's face tensed and a wave of heat washed over Erbrechen. "You can trust us," she said.

The boy looked confused, lost. "I thought Konig . . . He sent the Tiergeist."

"Tiergeist?" Erbrechen hissed at Gehirn.

"Therianthrope a.s.sa.s.sins," the Ha.s.sebrand answered.

Erbrechen spat, drool spattering his belly. "d.a.m.ned shapes.h.i.+fters." He returned his attention to Morgen. "You're safe with me. I won't let anyone hurt you."

"I can't be allowed to die," said Morgen, staring at Erbrechen with hopeful eyes.

"No one shall touch you. I promise," Erbrechen lied. "I've already defeated Konig's Schatten Mörder, his filthy Cotardist a.s.sa.s.sins."

"Konig didn't send you?" the lad asked, dumbfounded, directing his question at the Ha.s.sebrand.

A shock of fear stabbed through Erbrechen. How can the child ignore me? He must be a formidable Gefahrgeist. He needed to find the child's weakness, some way of engendering gratefulness.

"G.o.ds, no!" exclaimed Erbrechen, thinking quickly. "Gehirn is here to save you. She's your friend, right? And I'm her friend. And a friend of a friend is . . . a friend!"

The woman he'd sent for water finally scurried up and offered a chipped mug to the boy. Erbrechen watched Morgen hesitate, take a sip, and then splash water onto his hands and attempt to scrub them clean. Aha! This was what he'd been looking for, some way into the child's mind.

"More!" commanded Erbrechen. "A tubful of hot water!"

The woman fled.

"Thank you," said Morgen, tears of grat.i.tude streaming down his face, cutting tracks through the caked filth. "It's been so long. Dirty. Everything."

"Don't you worry," Erbrechen purred comfortingly. "Never again. I'll keep you clean. Forever."

The boy smiled tentatively, eyes glistening with hope. "Forever?"

"Forever. I promise." Erbrechen poked Gehirn with a fat finger. "Tell him I keep my promises."

"He keeps his promises," muttered Gehirn.

"Yes, I do," agreed Erbrechen. "And I take care of my friends." He beamed happily at the boy. "We are friends, right?"

Morgen looked uncertain. d.a.m.n, he must be strong! Anyone else would have been begging to lick my feet by now. Better make sure he had the boy under control.

"A bath will feel so good, won't it?" Erbrechen asked.

The boy nodded eagerly. "Yes."

"You'll feel much better, won't you?"

"Yes, I will."

"Are you hungry?"

"Very."

"We have delicious stew."

Morgen licked his lips. "Stew would be nice. After."

"After you're clean. Of course." Erbrechen smiled fondly. "It feels good to take care of your friends, doesn't it. Friends always take care of friends. I'm taking care of you. Right?"

"Yes."

"So we're friends?"

"Yes."

"Really? We are?" Erbrechen allowed himself to look uncertain, hurt.

"Yes," said Morgen quickly. "We're friends."

"Good!"

Erbrechen turned to command Gehirn to warm some water for the boy's bath, but the Ha.s.sebrand's clenched jaw, canines exposed in something just shy of a deranged snarl, changed his mind. The woman's cold blue eyes bulged and sweat streamed down her blistered face. Her mouth opened and she looked as if she desperately wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

"You stay where you are," Erbrechen commanded Gehirn. "You need to rest." A pulse of heat washed over him as Gehirn clenched her fists. "Rest," he said forcefully, and the Ha.s.sebrand lay back, closing her eyes.

Erbrechen caught Morgen watching with open curiosity. "She worried about you," he explained. "It exhausted her."

A dozen men and women dragged a huge iron tub into view. Where they'd found it, Erbrechen had no idea. Did they drag it from Neidrig on the off chance I'd want a bath? Fools. He'd never fit into such a small tub. In moments, a chain of bedraggled peasants filled the tub with steaming water.

The boy stood staring at the tub, hesitating for some reason. Ah, of course. Privacy. Erbrechen was always alone, even in the thick of a crowd. It was so easy to forget such social niceties.

"You." Erbrechen pointed at a man squatting nearby, pants down around his ankles. "Two things." The man stared up at him, eyes round with terror. "Never s.h.i.+te in my presence. It's rude. And put a curtain around the tub. The young lad needs his privacy." Morgen sagged with grat.i.tude. Excellent!

The crouched man stood, hiking his pants up.

"Wait!" said Erbrechen, suddenly feeling jovial. "I change my mind. Never s.h.i.+te again. Ever. Anywhere."

The man winced and nodded. He looked pained, like he was clenching.

Hilarious, thought Erbrechen. How long will the the poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d hold it? It was a small thing, but of such small things were life's joys truly made. The thought, he knew, would keep him smiling for days.

Bedeckt, face down on the road, woke with a pained groan, his eyes glued shut with dried blood from the wound in the back of his throbbing skull.

What the h.e.l.ls had the Morgen hit him with, a mountain? He lay moaning for some time before finally struggling to his feet.

How long had he been unconscious?

The sun was high, but obscured by thick cloud. There was no sign of the boy.

Bedeckt crouched over Stehlen's corpse. Her eyes were open and she wore an odd smile, as if pleased with how things had turned out.

Pretty d.a.m.ned unlikely.

She'd been dead for a while, definitely long enough to have made the journey to the Afterdeath. At this point, anything she carried was fair game. He stopped when he saw her sword lying in the dust of the road. She'd died without a sword in her hands.

"Oh, h.e.l.ls."

She'd never forgive him.

Well, seeing as he'd killed her, his failure to make sure she died with a sword might not be the first thing on her mind. Then again, with Stehlen, you could never be sure.

She'll be waiting for me. Never before had he wanted immortality so badly.

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"Sorry," he said to the corpse as he bent to search her pockets. He found a small fortune in gems and several gold coins. Maybe not enough to retire on, but enough to keep him in comfort for a few years. It wasn't stealing, he figured. Most of this had probably once been his. It didn't matter. Even if it hadn't been his, he'd take it anyway.

Stealing from friends wasn't on the list of things he wouldn't do.

Friends.

What a fool. Men like him didn't have friends.

He should walk away now. Take this loot and find a small house somewhere quiet. Maybe he could invest in something safe and useful like a wh.o.r.ehouse. Forget Morgen. Forget ransoming the boy's life—or death—and call it quits while he still could.

It wasn't enough, though. He knew he'd never invest it. He'd drink and wh.o.r.e it away and be left with nothing. He needed more.

Konig would pay well for Morgen's death.

Bedeckt pushed the thought away and rifled through the rest of Stehlen's clothes and meager belongings.

Hidden under her awful-smelling s.h.i.+rt, he found an unbelievable number of tattered and faded scarves looking like they might once have been brightly colored. He'd never seen them before.

How long had she carried these? A long time, judging from their sour smell and sorry state. The scarves looked old enough to date back to her childhood. Try as he might, Bedeckt couldn't picture Stehlen as a child. She'd been a crazy murderous thieving b.i.t.c.h every second of every day he'd known her. He couldn't imagine her elsewise.

Except in the alley. She'd been warm and alive. Had she said she loved him? He couldn't remember; that night was an alcohol-induced blur.

She said she loved you just before you killed her.

Oh, s.h.i.+te.

Bedeckt cursed the G.o.ds and jammed the faded scarves into a pocket. What the h.e.l.ls he planned on doing with them, he had no idea. Dumping the coins and stones into his left boot, he stood with a groan. His knees made wet popping noises and his back ached from crouching. He should say something.

Spoiling meat, Stehlen called Wichtig's corpse. Was she nothing more?

He couldn't be so lucky. Someday he'd die and there she'd be . . . waiting.

Strange, he hadn't felt the need to say something as he'd stood over Wichtig's corpse. Maybe Stehlen was right. Maybe he was growing soft.

"To h.e.l.ls with you," he told the corpse. He had the feeling he'd see her soon enough anyway.

He examined his surroundings and spotted Launisch and the other horses. His horses, he supposed. They hadn't wandered far, and pulled at the tough gra.s.s nearby.

Launisch approached and gently nuzzled at his chest.

"Sorry," said Bedeckt. "I don't have any apples."

"Ppfft!" answered Launisch.