Swarm and Steel, page 34
“What the hells was that?” he asked Zerfall.
AAS STOOD NAKED, SURROUNDED by an uncountable swarm of people, each and every one of them also naked. Ceaseless screams shivered the air. The stench of breath and panic and blood and terror clogged his nostrils.
Men and women stood gathered, staring at him.
“I know you,” said one, stepping forward.
Aas’ chest tightened. {No.} “Nimmer. I—”
“You killed me.” The man grinned bloody teeth. His eyes screamed where his voice remained eerily calm.
“And me,” said another.
“And me.”
“And …”
And on it went. They surrounded him.
“You sent us here,” said Nimmer.
A nearby man dragged another to the ground, kicking and screaming, and began tearing at him with his teeth as if he meant to eat him alive. It went on, ignored, unworthy of comment. Elsewhere men and women rutted or were raped. Some stood dazed, eyes empty and mad, their minds long broken. Others clawed at their own flesh as if attempting suicide with nothing more than their own fingernails.
He had to get out, to escape this madness. {If I can get above—} But they heard his thoughts and were on him. Fists pummelling, nails raking at his flesh, they dragged him down, buried him under their weight. Nimmer straddled Aas, knees on shoulders, pinning him to the ground. For a brief instant he saw sky through a gap in the bodies. It was nothing. Not blue, just there. There was no sun, the entire sky gave off even, unchanging light.
“I only wanted to be left alone!” screamed Nimmer. Then he grabbed Aas’ head—one hand each side of his skull—and slammed it to the ground. Bright slashes of color whited out Aas’ vision, sent him away, and then someone kicked him in the balls, bringing him retching back into his body. Again Nimmer lifted his head and slammed it to the ground and Aas managed only a grunted, “Uhn.”
Someone bit off one of his fingers and his hand was afire in agony.
“Uhn.” Again his skull struck the ground, this time with a sodden crunch.
Snarling teeth locked around another finger, worried at it like a starved dog gnawing a tough bone. The knuckle broke. Skin stretched and tore. The finger came free.
Someone kicked him in the balls again. This time it didn’t hurt so much.
“Uhn.” His thoughts, soggy, broken, splintered apart each time his skull struck ground.
{They’re … Uhn … killing … Uhn … me … Uhn …}
AAS BLINKED. HE STOOD, naked, watching as a crowd of raving men and women pulled a sallow and sagging corpse apart. He recognized that puckered skin, those thick, dark hairs.
{That’s me.}
The mob looked up, grinning madness and blood lust. He recognized the man sitting astride the savaged corpse.
{Nimmer.}
Nimmer lifted the corpse’s head and it came away from the ground with a wet sucking noise. The back of the skull was crushed flat. Streamers of blood and fragments of bone caught in strands of thin hair and torn flesh hung from the battered visage.
“No escape,” said Nimmer.
{I have to get above—} They were on him again, dragging him down with their weight and numbers. Someone kicked in his ribs and he felt them splinter, sharp shards of bone tearing into his organs.
Thumbs found his eyes and pressed in with inexorable force. Vision sank into red, splashed bright as his eyes burst, and stuttered into darkness. Blows rained down upon him while someone bent one of his arms the wrong way until the elbow dislocated with a damp pock.
AAS BLINKED. HE STOOD naked. The sky, empty as it was, beckoned.
If he could just twist.
{I must—}
They dragged him down.
“THAT WAS WEIRD,” SAID Jateko with a shiver. He nudged the crushed puppet with a toe to make sure it was dead and glanced at Zerfall. “You ever see anything like that before?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Thanks for distracting him.”
“It was easy,” she said, voice thin and sad, “He loves … loved me.”
Did you just kill her lover? Abiega asked.
Jateko didn’t know how to ask. She seems sad, but not as upset as she’d be if I killed someone important to her.
Have you listened to nothing she’s said? Demanded Grausamer, the Swordsman. She told you she’s a Gefahrgeist. Such people are incapable of love.
That’s who she was, said Jateko. She’s changed.
How would you know? Asked Abiega.
The thought bothered Jateko and he didn’t want to examine it. It doesn’t matter. She needed him.
“You arguing again in there?” Zerfall asked.
“Discussing.” His stomach rumbled in hungry complaint and the corpse, hideous as it was, looked like the finest meal. All other thought fell away.
While not muscular, Aas’ body possessed a wiry strength. The assassin had been fast too, quicker than Jateko, even though he’d eaten a dozen men. I want that speed. The crushed puppet drew his attention; had the man moved his soul there, used it as a vessel? It seemed that way. The body died and then he heard Aas’ thought, “I did it, I’m free” and the puppet started moving. He glanced at Zerfall, again seeing her advanced state of decay. Her body was falling apart. Soon she’d be completely helpless. I need what this assassin knows.
Kneeling by the corpse, Jateko gripped the skull in both hands. How strong am I?
He split the skull open with ease, exposing the grey meat of brain matter within.
“Here?” asked Zerfall.
“Yes.” He was so hungry. Tearing free the brain, he held it cupped in his palms. Much as he wanted the assassin’s speed, he needed his knowledge most. What will I learn from this man? Jateko mused.
Assassins are scum, muttered Grausamer and Jateko ignored the Swordsman.
Ripping free a nugget, he popped it into his mouth and chewed quickly. Movement caught his eye, and he glanced at the crowd gathered on the steps of the Verzweiflung Bank. Most wore a variety of strange hats, varying from small and brightly coloured to towering constructions of deepest black that seemed to defy reality by staying on the heads of those who wore them.
The hats are called Geldwechsler, one of the devoured Geborene priests whispered into Jateko’s thoughts. The bigger and more uncomfortable the hat, the higher the rank.
A small woman, face wrinkled like a sun-dried apple, massive black hat perched precariously, tottered down several steps to stand between Jateko and the church. Bank, he corrected. These people worship wealth. She stood like she personally would block him from the main doors.
“The Verzweiflung Banking Conglomerate stands above wars of religion,” she called down to him.
He tore free another chunk of brain as he swallowed the first and popped that too into his mouth. “Oh. That’s … uh … good to know,” he answered, not knowing what else to say.
She scowled, managing to bite both upper and lower lips at the same time, making her face look even more like desiccated fruit. “You are aware you killed a priest of the Täuschung?”
Jateko nodded, chewing. “And now I’m eating him.”
“Not here,” she said with utter confidence. “Remove yourself from our steps.”
Jateko was about to agree and drag away the body for later eating, when a thought stopped him. “This is Zerfall,” he said, gesturing to where she stood. “Founder of the Täuschung.” He stuffed more brain into his mouth, chewing fast.
The old woman’s face puckered even further, looking like someone was trying to pull it inside out from behind.
Zerfall drew the crumpled and faded bank note from her pocket and held it aloft.
The banker’s eyes narrowed as she squinted at the parchment. She made no attempt to approach. Next she turned her attention to Zerfall, examining what remained of the woman, before finally nodding. “Account Holder Zerfall Seele, so good to meet with you, deary.” The woman stared off into space as if trying to remember something. “Your sister’s Fragment attempted to access your shared accounts.”
Deary? Jateko couldn’t imagine anyone calling Zerfall deary, but this woman made it seem natural. Swallowing a lump of partially masticated brain, he forced more into his mouth.
“She’s not my sister,” said Zerfall.
The banker gave her an odd look and shrugged, accepting.
Zerfall gestured at Jateko with her stump. “Put all Täuschung funds in this man’s name.”
“And you are?” asked the old woman, turning slowly to keep the hat balanced.
“Jateko,” he answered, his mouth full.
She stared at him for a long moment, and he wondered if she’d drifted off like his gran used to do before she died. Finally, she nodded. “Done. Jateko, honoured Account Holder, you may remain here to finish your …” she scowled disapprovingly. “… repast. Does this conclude our business?”
“Remove me from the accounts,” wheezed Zerfall. “My delusions and I shall have no access from this point on.”
The old banker looked disappointed but said, “Of course, deary.”
“Is it a lot of wealth?” Jateko asked, shoving the last of the brain into his mouth and unsure what just happened.
“While the interest paid on such accounts is minimal, Account Holder Jateko, it is compound interest.”
“And?”
“Interest has been paid for four hundred and thirteen years. In that time regular deposits have also been made. Also, many of the Täuschung holdings have been liquidated.”
Liquidated? That sounded painful. Jateko avoided stepping on the stomped remains of the disgusting snot puppet. Still uncertain, he asked, “Am I wealthy?” He bent to retrieve Blutblüte, dragging it from the dead assassin’s guts and then using it to hack open the man’s rib cage to expose the heart.
“Quite,” she answered with a polite little bow, though not enough to tip the hat from her head. If his actions disgusted her beyond their lack of class, she hid it masterfully. While her face still looked like a piece of rotting fruit, her entire demeanour changed. She even attempted a patient smile that came nowhere near reaching the wrinkled sacks around her eyes.
These civilized folks are damned strange. He’d never get used to this. Jateko pulled the assassin’s heart free and tore off a mouthful with his teeth, chewing as he watched the banker. To free his hands he bit into the heart and held it with his teeth. Delicious hot blood ran down his throat and chin. Standing, he held Blutblüte to Zerfall in offering.
She held out the skeletal remains of her right hand, the fingers bone and parchment flesh, the broken finger once again jutting awkwardly. “You keep it.”
Discarding Grausamer’s beautiful matched swords, and ignoring the Swordsman’s grumbled complaint, he strapped Blutblüte in place at his hip. The sword, plain and unadorned, felt right. It belonged there.
Jateko devoured more of the assassin’s heart, his mind reeling. Both the Täuschung and the Geborene Damonen made use of the Verzweiflung.
The Wahnvor Stellung, a devoured priest informed him, also bank with the Verzweiflung. They hold the wealth of virtually every religion and city-state.
No matter what god each city-state claims to worship, thought Jateko, chewing the last of the heart, this is the true religion of civilization.
“Jateko,” said Zerfall, distracting him. “You have a choice to make. You’re free now.”
“Free?” He turned to face her, the bankers, for the moment, forgotten.
“You have more wealth than you could ever spend.”
He laughed, taking her right hand in his and bending the broken finger back into place. “I don’t see what wealth has to do with freedom.”
“You could unite the Basamortuan,” she said. “Arm and feed your tribes, topple the city-states.”
“You’re testing me? You want to know if I’m serious about staying with you?” How could he turn his back on her now?
“You can have everything,” she said.
“I have everything.” He glanced to where the banker stood, respectfully silent. Strange how her behaviour changed once he had wealth. These people make no sense. How did the mere possession of gold make one worthy of respect? Particularly when he’d done nothing to earn that wealth. “Can you direct me to the Täuschung?” he asked. “We have unfinished business.”
She gestured north west.
Stomach rumbling in a hunger that never quite abated, Jateko returned his attention to Zerfall. “Shall we pay them a visit?”
Empty sockets stared at him and he saw rotting teeth through her eroded cheeks. She shook her head, a weak side to side motion accompanied by the grind of bone and hardening cartilage. “I’m done. Go home.”
Jateko bit down on the rush of emotion, forcing calm. “The assassin moved his soul into that puppet, and Hölle is a part of you, right? Your Fragment?”
“Different personality.”
“We’re going to find a way to move your soul into her body,” blurted Jateko, the idea still forming.
“How?”
“I don’t know. Harea guided me to you. The Etsaiaren Sea of Souls. It has to make sense. It has to mean something. There has to be a reason.”
“I don’t think I am that reason,” whispered Zerfall, air hissing from her lungs.
You are. You are all my reasons. “In all the endless Basamortuan desert you were where Gogoko and Dedikatu were going to kill me. I can’t believe any of this is coincidence.”
“Why?” That one word, dry and crumbling like the shed skin of a snake left long in the sun, broke his heart.
“Because I love you.” For once, none of the voices in his head mocked him. “I can’t let you go. I won’t.”
“You’re a fool,” she said, but there was no sting to her words.
“I know. Let’s go visit your delusion,” he whispered to Zerfall, pulling her into a gentle hug.
TWENTY-ONE
Every time you imagine a conversation with someone where you are trying to convince them of something, know that you are talking to yourself; it’s you you’re trying to convince.
—Traurige Tatsache, Philosopher
AN HOUR PASSED AND still Pharisäer couldn’t convince herself she was Zerfall. It’s no good. Zerfall is alive. It was the only answer. Until Zerfall lay dead Pharisäer would be doomed to this half-life of almost existence.
Glancing at the corpse sprawled on the floor, she said, “I am Hölle.”
It was true, but a hollow victory. Becoming Hölle was pointless; the fool had nothing Pharisäer hadn’t already taken.
I’m real. This too was true. She’d half expected that replacing Hölle would make her Zerfall’s new Fragment. It hadn’t.
Everyone feared and respected Zerfall. I don’t want to be Hölle. I want to be Zerfall.
She’d have to continue pretending to be Zerfall until the bitch was dead. She’d been faking it for long enough the priests accepted her—even if she sometimes caught glints of doubt or distrust in their eyes. She’d play the role until she became it.
Pharisäer stalked over to Hölle and kicked her. It felt like kicking a side of gelid beef; the body barely moved, mocking her anger. In spite of what she told Hölle, she had no idea where Zerfall was and whether Aas intended on killing her. Knowing the mad wretch, he would. His predictability is probably his best feature. But then he’d surprised her before. She definitely hadn’t predicted his killing her in his own bed. It bothered her that she so completely misread the man. His worship of this body and her manipulation of his emotions should have been more than enough to guarantee his obedience.
Pharisäer shivered at the memory of Aas’ knife sliding into her flesh, the look of abject sadness on his face as he killed her. He hadn’t wanted to, and yet he had. She couldn’t understand; what went on in that ugly skull?
What other mistakes have you made?
“None,” she said, contemplating giving Hölle another kick. “He knew I considered killing him. It wasn’t my f—”
She stopped and stood rooted, staring at the mocking corpse. She almost said it wasn’t her fault.
That’s Hölle. I never dodge responsibility for my actions.
She thought about how effortless it would be to truly become Hölle.
You’re the delusion of a delusion. She’s one step closer to real. You want that.
“No. I want real.”
You tried. You can’t convince yourself you’re Zerfall.
“It’s not my—Shite!” This time she did kick Hölle’s corpse. Again it ignored her. She dropped to her knees to scream into Hölle’s slack face. “You damned cunt! I killed you, and I’ll kill her too!”
Zerfall would never crack like Hölle had. She’s a killer, bright steel and death, where Hölle was doubt and inaction. Pharisäer had never met the woman, but there wasn’t a Täuschung priest—even amongst the most insane—who wasn’t terrified of her.
“I’ll kill her!” she screamed at Hölle’s unresponsive face.
A sharp knock rattled the door to Hölle’s chambers. My chambers. Pharisäer corrected.
“What!”
The door swung open and Captain Gedankenlos stood at the threshold. He blinked when he saw her crouched over Hölle’s corpse but kept his face carefully blank.
“Zerfall—” he began.
“Shite! Where?”
He blinked again, looking confused. “What?”
He thinks you’re Zerfall, remember?
Right. He’d startled her. It wasn’t—
It wasn’t your fault?
Pharisäer ignored the thought. “Report,” she commanded the baffled Captain.
Gedankenlos dipped a quick bow. “Aas is dead.”
Pharisäer’s breath caught. Was this good news, or bad? “How?”
“A Basamortuan killed him in Verzweiflung Square, on the bank’s front steps. Teilweise Taub, one of our younger priests, saw it all. He rushed here to report.”
