Beyond Redemption (38 page)

He said I would never know what tender emotions lurked hidden beneath his fragile sanity. So I peeled him like a grape. He was right. I still don't know.

—W
AHNSINNIG
G
EMAHLIN
, O
TRAALMA

W
ichtig talked with Morgen as they rode west, maintaining a continual flow of inane chatter with consummate ease. Though he pretended to be relaxed and jovial, his eyes never stopped scanning the dark forest to the north of the road. The sky overhead was so thick with cloud he couldn't guess the time.

What the hells is this forest called?
He had no clue, but disliked its look with the instinctive distrust of the city-born. Forests always hid things. Spill blood, and the ground soaked it up in seconds, forever hiding the violence. At least on a city street the blood stayed around for a few days, giving testament to the work done. And forests always seemed to bring out the darkest his soul had to offer. Bad things happened in forests at night. He
shuddered as he remembered the night Bedeckt saved their lives when he should have fled.

Of course the memory was somewhat tainted by the much newer memory of Bedeckt abandoning him in the street.

The sky darkened, the world's colors fading to monochromatic. He darted a glance toward Bedeckt, who rode several yards in front, but said nothing. When the sky darkened further and he could barely make out Bedeckt ahead, he finally sighed with exasperation.

“Bedeckt, this is stupid. It'll be dark soon. We should make camp.”

“A little further,” grunted Bedeckt.

Wichtig didn't want to say what really bothered him. Albtraum. If they waited too long, it would make starting a good fire more difficult.
Damned if I'm skulking about in that damp forest looking for burnable wood in complete darkness.

Any thought that Wichtig might still owe something to Bedeckt left him uncomfortable. So, a diversion. “The boy is tired,” he said, placing a comforting hand on the lad's shoulder. “Hells, I'm tired too.”

It didn't work. If Bedeckt heard he showed no sign.

Glancing at Stehlen, Wichtig gave her a worried look, which she returned. As much a product of the city as Wichtig, she understood immediately. She too had reason to fear the gloomy forest.

The Kleptic cleared her throat and spat thickly at the legs of Wichtig's horse, which flattened its ears and uttered a small complaining whinny. “I wouldn't mind stopping either,” she said.

“A little further,” repeated Bedeckt.

“Don't be an idiot,” Stehlen snapped. “We almost died yesterday. One of us
did
die. This is no night to be without a good fire.” She flared nostrils at Bedeckt's back. “What do you think seeing the Afterdeath has done for Wichtig's sanity?”

“Me?” Wichtig protested. “I'm fine! I was just thinking of the boy!”

“We could do without visits tonight,” said Stehlen.

Bedeckt's shoulders hunched, but he said nothing.

“My sanity is fine,” said Wichtig defensively, even though this was exactly what he worried about. “Stehlen is just looking for a little rematch of whatever happened the other—”

“Fine,” interrupted Bedeckt. “We'll stop here. You two make camp.” He gestured with his half hand. “Out of sight of the road. I'm going to find something to kill.” He rode into the forest without another word.

“He meant for dinner, right?” asked Morgen.

“Probably,” answered Wichtig.

HALF AN HOUR
later they had a good-sized fire and a makeshift lean-to blocking it from sight of the road. Stehlen fussed around with her pack, rearranging whatever stolen trinkets she had stashed in there into a kind of order that would make sense only to the deranged. Wichtig had watched her do this so many times it had long since stopped being worthy of comment or mockery. He was more interested in the boy.

“I saw you watching as we made camp,” said Wichtig as he spread his sleeping roll near the fire. “Would you like to learn how?”

Morgen looked doubtful.

“It's easy,” Wichtig continued. “I can show you everything; how to make your own char cloth, what kind of tinder to use, and what stones make the best sparks.”

“Is it dirty?”

Wichtig held up stained hands. “Most things are,” he said with a casual shrug. “These skills keep you alive. I can teach you useful things, like how to skin and prepare game.” He chuckled. “Now,
that
is dirty work.”

Morgen, still standing, shuddered.

Perfect!
Crouching near Morgen, Wichtig gave him a reassuring smile. “Don't worry. As long as you have me at your side”—he treated the boy to a grave look—“I will always do your dirty work.” Staring into the woods beyond, he said quietly, as if to himself, “People like you need people like me.”

“I'm sorry,” said Morgen.

Wichtig pretended to look startled. “What? Oh, it's nothing.” He flashed a brilliant smile and set about carefully clearing a spot for Morgen's sleeping roll. “You know what they say about the life you save.”

The boy looked comically serious. “You are responsible for it. It
belongs
to you.”

Wichtig didn't quite like the last part or the way the boy said it, but let it go. Sometimes the lad had a strange way of speaking. He glanced surreptitiously at Stehlen. The Kleptic remained absorbed in reorganizing her pack. Good. With Bedeckt away, this would be Wichtig's best chance. He wished he'd had more time to plan, but knew he wouldn't have done so anyway. He worked best when under pressure, when the slightest mistake could cost everything.

If Bedeckt had half a clue how clever I am, he'd have killed me years ago. Or put me in charge.
Still, it was entertaining to let Bedeckt think he ran this sorry little troop of thieves.

“Morgen?”

The boy looked up, met his eyes. “Yes?”

“How much did Konig tell you of his plans?”

“Aufschlag, my teacher, told me more than he was supposed to.” Morgen gazed sadly into the fire. “I think he felt guilty.”

“But they told you that they groomed you to be a god?”

“I was
born
to be a god.”

Wichtig accepted the correction without comment. “Do you know why?”

Morgen looked confused. “To serve the people of Selbsthass.”

Wichtig let a little doubt show on his face. “You understand what the Geborene Damonen believe, right?”

“Man created the gods, and not the other way around.”

“Sure,” agreed Wichtig as if he'd known, “but there's more. Though they believe man created the gods, until very recently, they still worshiped those gods. The Geborene were little more than a crazy splinter sect from the Wahnvor Stellung. They worshiped the same gods.” He had no idea whether this was strictly true, but figured the lad most likely knew even less than he. In his experience, half-truths sounded more believable than whole truths anyway. He mixed in bits he remembered from Bedeckt's rambling at the bridge. “The Geborene only became a serious religion when Konig took over. Previously they'd been something of a joke. Konig saw the truth.”

“The truth?” Morgen asked when Wichtig let the pause grow long.

“The truth: if humanity created the gods, they can create more gods. New gods. He knew if he shaped the beliefs of the people worshiping this new god, he could shape how the god turned out. He understood a god could be
planned
.”

Morgen licked his lips thoughtfully. “Makes sense, I suppose.”

“Konig may be a powerful Gefahrgeist, but he is not without”—Wichtig did his best to look genuinely apologetic—“faults. Sorry, but I see this more clearly than he did. Don't get me wrong, I could never have started what he did, or had the vision to set things in motion. But I see what he missed.”

Eyes wide, Morgen asked, “What did he miss?”

“It's a lot like one of Bedeckt's plans,” Wichtig mused philosophically. “The bigger the plan, the longer you think about it . . . the more the plan will go to shite.”

“And?”

“At some point the Geborene god will grow beyond the control
of those who made it. They could shape it, but nobody can force a god to do something it doesn't want to do.”

“It,” said Morgen flatly.

“Sorry. You. People can do their best to manipulate you, but no one can force you to do anything. At least not once you're a god. Until then—”

“When I Ascend,” said Morgen.

Wichtig hid a flash of annoyance at the interruption. He hated having his flow disturbed. “Right. Until you Ascend you are vulnerable to manipulation.” He left the implied “by people other than me” unsaid.

A thought occurred to Wichtig. “How
do
you Ascend?”

Morgen hunched his shoulders as if he were cold. “Aufschlag says I have to die.” A burning stick rolled to the edge of the hastily dug pit as the fire shifted, and Morgen gently nudged it with a toe. “I see a lot of fire.”

Wichtig hid his confusion, nodding with a concerned frown. “Yeah, I see a lot of fire too.”
Right there in front of me,
he thought sarcastically. He changed tack again. “Hey, I just thought of something. Those assassins, the things in Neidrig.”

“Tiergeist.”

“Do you think they tried to kill you so you'd Ascend?”

Morgen tensed. He nodded once.

“But why?” Wichtig let the question hang. He sat beside Morgen, pretending to stare into the fire in thoughtful contemplation. “Only one thing makes sense: they're afraid you might learn something.”

The boy remained silent. Damned annoying. The more people talked, the easier it was to read and manipulate them.

“The question is,” Wichtig continued, “did they work on their own, or were they doing Konig's bidding?” He picked up a stick and poked at the fire, using the distraction to check that Stehlen
was still consumed with her pack. “What could the Tiergeist hope to gain from forcing your Ascension? No,” he said quietly, as if musing more to himself than talking to Morgen. “They must have been following orders. Konig wants you dead. He's afraid you'll learn something, turning you against him.” Wichtig placed a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder and felt the lad tense. “Bedeckt is a fool, a brainless moron. But every now and then he says something of such simple wisdom it stuns you. Knowledge is power. Bedeckt told me that. I know,” agreed Wichtig to the lad's silence. “You'd never expect such insight from a thoughtless block of wood. What I'm saying is this: you need to learn whatever it is Konig doesn't want you to learn. You must know as much as you possibly can before you Ascend.” He paused to look thoughtful. “Have you read much history?” he asked.

Morgen shook his head.

Gods damn, he wished the boy would say something, give him some insight into what was going on in his little skull. Ah, well.
At least the boy isn't well read
. Talking to the well educated was always so much more of a pain in the arse.

“A shame,” admitted Wichtig, “because then you'd know all gods have heroes. For each god there is one hero who does the god's bidding here in the mortal world.” He shook his head in mock disgust and sighed. “I can't believe Konig didn't tell you this stuff. It isn't right. No, I can't leave this wrong . . .” He couldn't think of the word. “. . . un-righted.” Wichtig turned to face the boy, leaning down to look Morgen in the eyes. “I, Wichtig Lügner, the Greatest Swordsman in the World, will be your protector. Your hero for so however long as you need me. This I promise you: you shall live to learn all you need to know before you Ascend. You must learn what Konig seeks to hide from you. Knowledge is power, and truth is a weapon.”
What a beautiful sentence! I'll have to remember it for later
. “Truth
and my sword. These are the weapons you will need to become the god you must become. Your own god, not the plaything of a Gefahrgeist who doesn't respect you enough to tell you everything. The Geborene don't seek to create a wise god, they want an obedient god, an ignorant god. You don't want to be an ignorant god, do you?”

The lad shook his head.

“Good,” said Wichtig. “You are safe at my side.”

Stehlen looked up from her pack as if coming out of a trance.

Wichtig smiled his most innocent smile. “No one has stolen anything from you, I trust?”

Her eyes narrowed. “No one steals from me.”

As Wichtig babbled, Morgen watched small figures, little more than oddly shaped sparks, dance and jump in the fire. He saw Konig pounding his fists against a wall of glass, screaming at the Konig beyond. Bedeckt he saw writhing in searing agony. Who was this grotesque spider, hunched, glistening in the center of a web of ravenous need? Glimpses of those he knew flickered teasingly before his eyes. Though he knew not how, he was sure these were visions of a not-so-distant future.