Swarm and Steel, page 13
Giernach Reichtum, the dying Banker and focus of today’s Departing, lay on a litter of gold, centre stage. Her skin shone pale and grey. Gold and assorted gifts—more wealth than most people would see in a lifetime—lined the litter, offerings to Wahrergott. Thin white hair had been combed as much as it was possible to groom a half dozen sparsely spaced strands. The old woman’s Geldwechsler, the ornate and awkward hats worn by the Verzweiflung bankers, was conspicuously missing, subtle cue that in the end she chose the Täuschung over the Verzweiflung. Pharisäer doubted Giernach was even aware of its absence. If the old woman’s chest didn’t rise and fall in shallow breaths, Pharisäer would have thought her a corpse. Every now and then eyes set deep in wrinkles would open and pear about for a few heart beats before once again closing.
Wealth is no protection from disease, mused Pharisäer. Or gullibility. The old woman’s body was riddled with cancers and the best medickers the city had to offer agreed she’d be dead within the week.
Pharisäer stifled a grin. Less than that.
Knowing her time had come and being a true believer in the One True God, Giernach came to the Täuschung Hospice, begging for a public Departing so she may best prove her faith to Wahrergott. The banker thought she’d be surrounded by believers as her soul passed on, that their faith would guarantee she woke in a heaven of beauty and wealth and comfort where she’d await the saving of all humanity and their return to godliness.
She’s not completely wrong.
Giernach would be surrounded by priests, but not these powerless sane idiots. After the ceremony, Giernach would be taken to the deepest chambers, far beneath the ancient Täuschung church. The secret inner core of Geisteskranken priests would surround her. Their faith and reality-bending madness would send her soul to Swarm.
The audience, comprising entirely of the sane, watched with reverent awe, soaking in Bishop Unterwürfig’s words. Their shared reality crashed against her every time the Bishop brought her to their attention. He droned on about how Wahrergott chose her to be his eyes in this world so that she may see His holy path. She felt thin and illusory, like she might fade to nothing if they all decided she wasn’t real.
They don’t know. They don’t know that.
They saw her, she was real. For the first time she truly appreciated the strength of the sane masses. They could snuff me with a thought were they capable of agreeing on something. And Bishop Unterwürfig, as a skilled orator, was dangerously powerful. Should he decide to sway the crowd against her, she’d be doomed. Luckily he’d never shown signs of comprehending his power or wanting more than shallow titles and wealth.
“And now I give you Zerfall, the Eyes of Wahrergott,” finished Unterwürfig, turning to Pharisäer in a deep bow and backing away from the pulpit.
All eyes were on her. They see me. I am real. It was a lie, but their growing belief in her would solidify her existence. She couldn’t deceive herself it would be enough. Until she replaced Hölle, she would remain nothing more than a Fragment, a shallow figment of a twisted mind. Pharisäer stepped forward, basking in the attention. They see me. There weren’t enough people here to make her truly real, but already she felt more solid.
Taking her place behind the pulpit Pharisäer lifted her arms just as Unterwürfig had and the room seemed to hold its breath. How many people were here, four hundred? No cough or fidget disturbed the silence.
“Heaven,” said Pharisäer, voice strong and loud. The ceiling caught her words and she heard the beautiful decay of reverberation. It’s like rain. I speak and the church shatters my words so they may fall upon the believers, soak into their thoughts. “The Wahnvor Stellung preach of an Afterdeath of second chances and redemption. The Warrior’s Credo promises an Afterdeath of war and strife. The northern tribes wear fetishes, bones taken from those they’ve slain. The GrasMeer ride endless plains in the Afterdeath, worshipping their mad horse gods.” She had no idea if this was true but it hardly mattered. “All those Afterdeaths are real,” she said. “They all promise something, and maybe they even deliver some of what they promise. But these are old religions born of ignorance and fear. What sets us apart?”
Four hundred mouths whispered “Wahrergott.” Four hundred fingers touched foreheads and then rose as if to push their prayers to the sky.
“Reality is responsive,” said Pharisäer, basking in the attention. She never felt so real, so alive. “Reality bends to the belief of the masses.” No need to mention the mad; the sane hated and feared Geisteskranken and with good reason. What these dullards needed to hear now was how powerful they were. “Belief. Defines. Reality.” She nodded as if she’d said something profound and four hundred heads nodded agreement. Tell them what they know. “Reality is responsive,” she repeated, “but there are rules, laws binding even the most powerful Ascended. The gods of every other religion are bound by rules.” She paused to let that sink in. “They are limited.” She drew a deep breath. “I ask you, what kind of god is limited? What kind of god is bound by rules?”
Four hundred pairs of eyes watched in rapt attention. Four hundred pairs of lips quivered, desperate to answer the question yet afraid to speak out.
“False gods,” announced Pharisäer. “Lesser gods. Ascended mortals. Local spirits lifted by the faith of uneducated fools.” Two things the populace of Geld loved above all else: Gold, and the sure knowledge they were smarter and better educated than the rest of the world. “What happens if we declare that murder is a crime but do not punish the guilty? What happens if we declare debts must be paid but don’t pursue negligent debtors? What are laws and rules if there is no enforcement? They are nothing! Where there are rules—where there are laws—there must be enforcement.”
Whispered words of agreement crept to the stage, fed her belief in herself and the knowledge that she had this crowd, that she’d guide them where she wanted.
Tell them what they know.
“Wahrergott is the One True God, the enforcer of reality’s rules. Wahrergott returns the world to sanity after it’s been raped by Geisteskranken.”
Eyes widened in shock. Four hundred mouths gasped, wondering if they should be appalled but agreeing with her words.
“Humanity was meant to be more than pathetic fumbling beings. We were not meant to be slaves to reality. It bends to our will and its responsiveness tells us something. It tells us we were meant to be gods. This …” She waved her arms. “This is all temporary. Call it a test. True godhood is earned, not given by the whims of some mad boy like those deranged Geborene believe!”
Quiet mocking titters reached her on the stage. In spite of the huge turd of a pyramid, the Geborene had few followers in Geld.
“We will be gods,” she told the crowd and they nodded. Tell them what they know. “But only once we have saved everyone, every single last soul in all the world. It is our task, but we are not alone.”
A few people shuffled and fidgeted in the back rows. Had she gone on too long? Best not to be like Bishop Unterwürfig, best to wrap it up before she became an insufferable windbag. She felt drunk with power, basked in the attention. This, standing before a crowd, was more than most Fragments could ever dream of. They see me. They make me real.
“Everything that happens happens for a reason.” She gestured at Giernach on her litter of gold. “Did this woman achieve all she achieved by mistake? No! And make no mistake, Wahrergott’s rules are no accident. This woman,” she pointed again at the litter and the old lady sleeping upon it. “All of you.” She raised her arms to encompass all the room. “It is you who define reality.” Should I have said “we”? No one seemed to notice. “We are Wahrergott’s chosen. It is we who shall awake in the heaven he promises. It is we who shall rise to once again take our place amongst the gods when all the world has been saved.” That the lie preached to the public contained whispers of the truth tickled Pharisäer and she crushed the urge to mock the gullible fools. “Giernach Reichtum is a brave woman. She worked endless hours, rising through the ranks of the Verzweiflung Banking Conglomerate.” Always best to remind the faithful why they were here and how much they wanted to be as successful as the old banker. “Giernach Reichtum is a true believer and we are awed by the statement she chooses to make today.” She doubted the old woman would so much as utter another syllable before awaking in Swarm. “She has asked that her Departing be public so that you may learn from her wisdom.” She suspected Bishop Unterwürfig somehow bribed the greedy old bastard, but it hardly mattered.
Pharisäer drew another deep breath, waiting until once again all eyes were on her. They see me. I am real. It almost felt true.
“We are gathered here today,” she said, listening to her words rain down from the ceiling, “to say goodbye to our friend, our mentor, Giernach Reichtum.”
AN HOUR LATER, AFTER every member of the church from the lowliest debtor to the wealthiest banker had a chance to pay their respects to the dying woman, a stately procession of priests carried her into the deepest chambers, far beneath the church. Once the litter was stripped bare and the sane priests herded from the room, the Täuschung’s inner core of priests—Geisteskranken, each and every one—entered from hidden doors.
For the first half hour Pharisäer watched as the insane priests stripped and tortured the old woman, telling her over and over of Swarm, the hell awaiting her. This would go on until the woman broke, until she believed with utter surety in Swarm. That, combined with the suffocating proximity of half a dozen powerful Geisteskranken, ensured the destination of Giernach’s battered soul.
When the screaming and chanting grew monotonous Pharisäer left.
AAS FLEW FAR ABOVE Geld.
Did Zerfall ever hurt you so perfectly?
He needed to think but his thoughts rebelled, danced like drunkards, stumbling from one topic to the next.
Pharisäer wasn’t trying to kill me. He saw that now. What then had been her goal?
Below, he spotted the local Geborene Damonen church and spread his wings to glide in a looping crescent and land. A cold wind gusted from the Kälte Mountains to the north of Geld, ruffling his feathers and chilling the bright pink puckered flesh of his bald head. The building, a perfect pyramid which had only been built in the last couple of years, was an architectural monstrosity of pristine white stone. Geborene priests rose each morning and spent their day scrubbing the church in staggered work parties. Aas saw what appeared to be an emergency cleaning crew dash from the building to scrub away unsightly bird droppings.
Unable to resist, Aas shat on the very apex of the pyramid.
A Geborene acolyte spotted Aas and climbed the sloping temple wall toward him, a mop and bucket clutched in one hand. Aas screeched, a retched croak, and glared at the young priest with bloodshot eyes. The priest stopped and studied him, hefting the mop as it were a weapon. Spreading his wings to their full extension, Aas shuffled in place, cackling carrion laughter. {Come priest, I want to watch you bounce down the side of this stupid church.}
The acolyte ceased his ascent and blinked up at Aas before wisely retreating to go in search of something less dangerous to clean. No doubt the coward would return later, but by then Aas’ little gift to the Geborene would have hardened, forever staining the unsullied white stone. He glanced about, noting the lack of other stains. The temple was pristine. Could faith alone maintain the appearance of a building? But if that were so, why have these idiots out here scrubbing?
You’re avoiding what you came here to think about.
True.
Aas settled, folding his wings in tight and closing his eyes to enjoy the cold wind on the sagging flesh of his bald head.
Did Zerfall ever hurt you so perfectly?
No she hadn’t. He was hard-pressed to explain—even to himself—what Pharisäer had done to him. With Zerfall there had been no promise of pleasure, no suggestion their relationship would ever be other than one-sided. Zerfall caused him pain and he took pleasure in her gift; she left him no choice. Pharisäer showed tenderness and vulnerability. She let him think he could hurt her, that she’d let him hurt her; if only he knew how to ask. And then she slid a knife into his belly.
Had she planned that encounter? Could she read him so perfectly?
Gods she is dangerous. Aas blinked beady red eyes. God, he corrected with a cackle of laughter.
He should fly straight to Hölle and tell her everything.
He’d threatened to do just that and Pharisäer hadn’t cared. She didn’t think he would.
She knew I wouldn’t.
That rankled. Aas hated being predictable.
The answer was easy and yet telling Hölle everything to prove to Pharisäer he wasn’t predictable was stupid. Aas hated stupidity even more than being predictable.
Sensing an updraught of warm air, he leapt from the apex of the Geborene pyramid. Wings stretched wide, he caught the breeze, riding it like a boat following a strong current.
His mind wandered and he remembered fleeing the town he’d been born in, hearing the startled yells of the men he stumbled into outside of the tavern. At the time he thought they’d given chase and fled for his life.
He’d run west. Pure luck, really. Had he travelled east, he would have wandered into the Basamortuan Desert and no doubt died there, leaving sun-bleached bones protruding from the abrasive sands.
After two days he collapsed, weak with hunger, and lay blinking up into an eternity of blue sky. To his right, beyond the reach of his outstretched arm, stone pushed through thin soil like broken bone through flesh. He slept where he fell, prostrated in the rolling foothills of the Kälte Mountains, with neither the strength nor the will to move. When he awoke, two condors flew overhead in lazy circles while another sat on the outcrop of rock, watching. When he grunted and tried to shoo it away, the bird didn’t so much as twitch. It waited with the perfect patience of a creature certain it would soon enjoy a meal. Aas remembered thinking, Eat the dead and you’ll never go hungry.
He had no idea how long he lay, slipping in and out of consciousness, until he opened his eyes to discover a condor standing over him, neck bent, staring him in the eye.
“You’ve come for me?” Aas asked the condor, and it nodded, its throat making soft glottal clicks. “Not much flesh left,” he told it, and it shrugged as if unconcerned. He looked past the bird at the two circling overhead. “Usually you all land and eat in a circle,” he croaked. “Come, there’s enough for three.”
The bird turned its head as if listening and waited.
And Aas understood. “You’re not here for my flesh, you’re here for my soul.”
Every day, for fourteen years, he watched the noble birds through his knothole, dreaming of their freedom. When his father died, he’d eaten him. It was the chain of life: The living became carrion and the eaters of the dead were but the next link in the chain. That had been the beginning of his transformation, though he hadn’t realized it at the time.
These condors weren’t there to eat him, they were guides. The two circling above guarded his body while he was vulnerable. This one, here on the ground…. It was time. He was dying. He was ready.
Aas’ eyes slid closed and he felt his soul leak from his body and enter the vessel waiting nearby.
When he once again opened his eyes he expected to see his starved body lying at his feet. There’d been nothing, an area of trampled grass and the savoury scent of death. He hopped about then, dancing on taloned feet, stretching great wings, until hunger drove him into the air in search of food. Later that day he ate the remains of a farmer’s dog and it was the most delicious meal he ever tasted.
Focus. Focus on what you’re doing.
Aas banked and dropped low enough he could have made out the faces of those below should they ever think to look up. Which they never did. Sometimes humanity seemed like poorly drawn art scrawled across rough cotton paper. They mistook texture for depth, never realizing they were trapped in their narrow perception of reality.
Are you so sure you’re free of that same trap?
If he said yes, he was a fool. If he said no, he wasn’t being honest with himself.
You can only avoid thinking about her for so long.
Pharisäer. What did she want? And why did she look exactly like Zerfall?
Aas loosed a startled shriek. What a fool I’ve been!
The condor screeched laughter. There seemed no end to his foolish blindness.
What did Pharisäer want?
What do all Fragments of Mehrere personality want?
To be the original.
Pharisäer knew I’d put this together. And yet she hadn’t killed him when she had the chance.
He should run to Hölle, tell her everything.
Why? She hates me, always has. And if Pharisäer was a Fragment, Hölle was already doomed.
Pharisäer could be his new Zerfall.
He wanted that more than anything.
When I beat Pharisäer’s puzzle she’ll see my worth.
Pharisäer wanted Nimmer dead. She said he was Getrennt, divorced from reality. It was a common delusion, but rarely dangerous. Many Getrennt thought they only had limited control of their thoughts and actions and weren’t particularly deadly.
How Nimmer’s delusion manifested, Aas had no idea. If Nimmer thought himself separate from the world around him, Aas would complete that process.
First, however, he’d kill Narr Unerheblich, the easier of the two targets.
Aas flew in search of his prey.
HÖLLE AWOKE, EYES GUMMY with sleep, disoriented from a strange dream. Wahrergott had been trapped in an iron box, screaming and pleading with her. His words were incomprehensible gibberish and he sounded frustrated more than scared or angry.
Sunlight slashed sharp around the edges of the heavy curtains sheltering her room from the harsh light. Dust danced gold in stabbing beams, illuminating the detritus heaped in the corners of her chambers. The floor was a mess, piled deep with clothes in need of laundering, and littered reports from wandering Täuschung priests, few of which she bothered to read. She grimaced, squinting and turning away from the pain. How long had she been asleep?
