Swarm and Steel, page 35
Why had some savage from the desert killed Aas? And for that matter, how? “Aas awaits his rebirth as a god in Swarm,” said Pharisäer, knowing it was expected.
Gedankenlos nodded but didn’t seem to much care. “There’s more.”
“More?”
“Teilweise said the bank transferred all the Täuschung accounts to this Basamortuan.”
“They—” Pharisäer, stunned, stared at the Captain. “Is he sure?” She’d sold off most of the Täuschung holdings at a vastly reduced rate, and now it was all gone? Some damned sand flea has my money? It wasn’t her fault, she needed to damage Hölle and the church had been her greatest weakness. How could she possibly have known this would happen?
“Teilweise seemed sure, but was too far away to hear everything.”
You’ve been the true head of the Täuschung for less than an hour and already the church is destitute.
“It’s not my—” Pharisäer bit down on her tongue, cutting off the word. She spat blood at the floor. “How many Täuschung are in the temple?”
Gedankenlos’ brow furrowed in thought. “You sent almost everyone away,” he reminded her. “ängstlich and Dämonin Schwindel came back from Traurig last week. Starker Narr arrived from Selbsthass yesterday. He said he was unable to enter the city proper, was turned away at the gates. I believe Gefräßige Wut and Unbedacht are in the compound as well.”
“Take them all. Find this Basamortuan. Bring him here. Alive.”
He nodded another quick bow. “Of course.” He turned to leave and stopped, hesitating.
“What?” she snapped.
“Teilweise mentioned something else.”
“Really?” she asked, sweetly. “Would you like me to torture it from you?”
He flashed a quick glance at Hölle’s corpse. “The Basamortuan was with someone.”
I’m going to kill this idiot. “And?”
“Teilweise said he thought it was a rotting corpse.”
“Those filthy tribals do all sorts of insane shite. Maybe he had some family vendetta with Aas and carried his father’s corpse here so it might witness Aas’ death.”
Gedankenlos shuffled about on his feet, looking like he was trying to decide if he’d made a mistake bringing this up.
“Spit it out and then go get—”
“Teilweise said the corpse was alive.”
Alive? Hadn’t Aas said Zerfall was showing Cotardist tendencies? Could a soul remain in a body even in such an advanced state of rot? She’d never heard of anything like it; Cotardists died when the rot reached their heart.
We are talking about Zerfall here. Nothing can kill that psychotic bitch.
“Teilweise also said—”
“Shut up,” commanded Pharisäer. “I need to think.”
Gedankenlos stood motionless, face expressionless. She glanced at the hand lying atop Hölle’s desk—My desk—and scowled when the Captain’s gaze darted in that direction. “I think the Basamortuan will come to us. Be ready. I need him alive. We’ll need him to transfer control of the accounts back to me.” She slashed a sideways glance at Gedankenlos, but the Captain seemed oblivious. “To the church,” she corrected.
“Of course.” The Captain turned to go.
“What else did Teilweise say?”
Gedankenlos hesitated. “He said Aas had Blutblüte.” He glanced to the empty scabbard hanging on Pharisäer’s hip and she crushed the desire to curse and scream. “He said the Basamortuan took it.”
Zerfall and some Basamortuan warrior were coming here? And the Basamortuan wielded Blutblüte? Pharisäer wanted to crawl into bed and cry. She wanted to cower under the sheets, to hide away from this terrible and cruel world. What had she done to deserve this?
That’s what Hölle would do. It’s not my—She felt her lips peel back in a feral snarl and Gedankenlos blanched. “I am not Hölle,” she said, and he glanced again at the corpse.
“Of course not,” he agreed, retreating toward the door. “I never …”
Never what? Never thought I was real? She tried to crush the doubt down deep into her belly, but it festered there, threatening to rise like sour bile. She felt real, more real than she ever felt before. More real than when she stood in front of the congregation and they all saw her. Hölle was dead and she was Hölle. Shouldn’t there be more? “You’ll wait for the Basamortuan to come to us. Bring them to me. Alive.”
“Them?”
“The Basamortuan and … the bones.” She growled and gnawed hard on her lower lip until she tasted blood. “Alive but beaten. Helpless.” She looked up at Gedankenlos and though he towered over her he retreated further into the hall. “Kill anyone and everyone who lays eyes on them or sees Blutblüte.”
“Everyone?”
“Yes.”
“Including myself?” Gedankenlos asked from the hall.
Pharisäer examined the Captain of her Guard. It was a laughable title at best. Zerfall clearly only kept him around for his physique. “Don’t be an idiot.” She’d kill him later.
“Sorry.” Gedankenlos turned and fled.
How the hells had everything gone so wrong so fast? She should be feeling victorious, and yet more than anything she wanted to find somewhere to hide. Zerfall was coming for her, she knew it. Four hundred years the woman walked the earth, insane and yet apparently immune to the Pinnacle. This, more than anything, worried Pharisäer; how had Zerfall avoided the curse which haunted all Geisteskranken? One terrifying explanation loomed above all others: Wahrergott was real. Zerfall was backed by the One True God.
“It doesn’t matter,” Pharisäer told herself. “Teilweise said Zerfall was a corpse.”
What about the Basamortuan warrior?
“A man, with the same weakness all men share.”
Aas didn’t find it terribly difficult to ignore your wiles and kill you.
“Ah, but he knows me. It should be no great task to lure this Basamortuan away from Zerfall.” After all, what charms could a pile of bones have?
She’s a powerful Gefahrgeist. It hardly matters what she looks like.
Pharisäer scowled at the thought. “I beat Hölle, I can beat Zerfall.”
Hölle was no Zerfall.
AS JATEKO WALKED HE dreamed of stretching his wings wide and flying high over the stink of this gold-worshipping city. The streets were eerily familiar and he easily found his way through their sprawling chaos. Spotting a massive glistening white pyramid—The Geborene Damonen temple, he thought—through a break in the buildings, he wanted to perch on its apex and shite.
That’s weird.
Looking away, he caught sight of one of those ridiculous banker hats—Geldwechsler, he remembered—and felt a foreign stab of hatred and disgust. He glanced at Zerfall and his chest tightened with a savage crush of emotion. He already knew he loved her, but this was different. He wanted to cry to see her so broken. She’d been so viciously beautiful, so proud.
Zerfall walked at his side, a limping shuffle. She leaned on him for support, her missing foot making walking without help impossible. He stole a quick glance.
I never knew her like that. She was dead and rotting the day I met her.
He remembered what she looked like, before. She’d been gorgeous, perfection. Dark, penetrating eyes, bright with wit and intelligence. He remembered the curl and bounce of her hair as it fell around her shoulders like a waterfall or the curtains at one of those expensive theatres.
Theatre?
He remembered the way she smelled, sweet like fire-warmed honey, and the curve of her full lips as she cut him.
Cut me?
Gods, he wanted that so much. He wanted to hurl himself at her feet and beg forgiveness for leaving her in the desert, for turning his back on her when she needed him most. He deserved everything that happened to him and a thousand times worse.
This time of day, Verleiher Way will be quicker, he decided, following the narrow street.
Two blocks later he realized Verleiher Way was busier than expected. He pushed through the crowd. He towered over most of these people. Was he taller now? Even armed, with Zerfall—clearly a walking corpse—at his side, it was his dark skin and tattered oihal—now consisting mostly of torn and filthy karpan fabric—which caught people’s attention. He heard ‘desert savage’ whispered over and over and many darted angry, sneering looks in his direction.
Why do they hate me?
The Basamortuan don’t use money, Aas answered. You have no real concept of wealth, or debt.
We understand owing debts.
You owe debts of gratitude or honour. Money has nothing to do with either.
We don’t have money, everything is trade. Barter, Jateko added, realizing he knew the word.
Exactly. It means the Verzweiflung have no hold over you.
That doesn’t make sense. If these people don’t want to be in debt, they should decide not to pay the bank back.
But then the Geld Guard come knocking and throw you in jail.
There were, Jateko noticed, an awful lot of guards patrolling the street. All these guards work for the Verzweiflung?
No, they’re paid by the city-state.
Then why enforce the bank’s rules?
Because Geld is indebted to the Verzweiflung.
“What’s going on in there?” Zerfall asked, distracting Jateko from his internal discussion.
“The assassin is with me now,” Jateko answered. “Aas and I were discussing economics.”
“Oh.” Did she sound less than pleased? “Learn anything interesting?”
“Aas is in love with you,” he blurted.
She nodded, not looking at him.
“He says he’s sorry he tried to kill you.”
“Oh. I’m … I’m not the person he knew.”
“I know.” Jateko stopped at an intersection, glancing down two different streets.
There’s a fantastic butchery down there called Medium Rare, Aas informed him. Jateko, having no interest in prepared charcuterie—why do I even know that word?—ignored him.
“Is this difficult for you?’ Zerfall asked.
“Why would it be?”
Zerfall’s eyebrows bespoke confusion. “I … I thought—”
“I was kidding. This is very strange. I have all these memories of you and I and the things we did together. Mostly things you did to me—painful things. But I wasn’t there.”
“I’ve changed.” She hesitated. “I think I’ve changed.”
“I like this you,” said Jateko. “I don’t think the old you and I would get along. At all.”
She watched him and he saw her teeth clenched through a tear in her cheek.
“But part of me wants the old Zerfall back,” he said. “Part of me loves and worships the old you. I miss her. I miss the way she cut me and taunted me and never let me touch her. And …”
“Yes?”
“The old you was beautiful.”
“And the new me is a stinking, rotting corpse.”
“Not too stinky.”
“Thanks.”
“Sorry. I already told you I loved you. Even before I ate Aas.”
“You ate ass?”
“He still doesn’t think it’s funny.”
AAS GUIDED JATEKO THROUGH the streets of Geld, pointing out dark alleys in which he’d murdered people and buildings he’d shite upon.
[Aas?] Jateko asked.
{Hmm?}
[What are we going to face at the Täuschung temple?]
{Hölle and Pharisäer. Pharisäer is a manifestation of Hölle’s split personality. Hölle is the more dangerous of the two; she’s a powerful Halluzin. Pharisäer pretends to be Zerfall, but has nothing on the real thing. Turn left here.}
Jateko followed the assassin’s direction.
{What the hells is your delusion?} demanded Aas. {You don’t fit any of the classifications.}
[As I said before, your civilized system of classifying insanity is flawed.]
{I missed that,} said Aas. {I was dying at the time.}
Jateko ignored this. [Why would insanity would follow nice, neat rules?]
{But it does,} said Aas. {It’s measurable. I studied this in detail. There are laws which govern the range of effect, the balance of power between Geisteskranken and the sane—}
[You’re missing something simple,] said Jateko. [It isn’t delusion that defines reality, it’s belief. I was so incredibly gullible, ignorant and naïve, I was capable of convincing myself of almost anything.]
{You’re saying ignorance made you a powerful Geisteskranken?} Aas asked, incredulous.
[Yes.]
{So you’re sane, but incredibly stupid.}
[I would have put it diff—]
{Maybe you’re a very rare breed of Wahnist,} suggested Aas.
[That might fit,] admitted Jateko doubtfully. [You’re the first real Geisteskranken I’ve eaten. And I’m only guessing I can twist. I might be wrong.]
“You’re both missing something,” said Zerfall.
“Yes?” asked Jateko. “What’s that?”
“I can hear what you’re thinking.”
“Oh.”
{Oh,} said Aas.
“Just in the last few minutes,” she said. “It grew in volume. It sounded like we were approaching a crowd. It took me a moment to realize what it was I was hearing.”
“But that means—”
“That means you suffer the delusions of those you eat,” said Zerfall. “Eat a dozen Geisteskranken, and you’ll face a dozen Pinnacles.”
Can she hear me too? Abiega asked.
When Zerfall failed to react, Jateko answered, [I don’t think so, Abiega.]
“Don’t think what?” Zerfall asked.
“Abiega asked if you heard him too.” He winked at her. “Typical Narcisstic, eh?”
Hey!
“I only hear you and Aas.”
Jateko stopped walking, staring up at a group of squat buildings in a walled compound. The main gates, iron-wrapped timbers, the sharpened tips of which looked to have been dipped in molten metal, sat closed. To the right of the gates hung a hempen rope attached to a rusty bell hanging from the branch of a tree which looked to have died several hundred years ago.
“How do we get in?” he asked, nodding toward the closed gate.
{I’d twist into a condor and fly in,} said Aas. {I suppose sane people ring the bell.}
What are you going to do? asked Abiega pointedly.
The gate swung open, saving Jateko from having to answer. Within stood three men and two women. One of the men, a towering slab of muscle and sloping brow, looked like he’d been stuffed into his chain hauberk by force. Woven steel rings, stretched taught across a broad chest twice the girth of Jateko’s, looked ready to burst. A morningstar of dull black iron, its bulbous head caked in flakes of dry blood and clumped hair, hung heavy in a scarred fist. The rest of the group twitched and picked at skinny arms and gave off an aura of ill health, mental and otherwise.
{This is bad,} said Aas. {Really bad.}
“Why?” asked Jateko.
{They’re expecting us.}
“Sure, the big guy is, well, big, but the rest of them don’t look like—”
A petite woman in stained homespun robes stepped in front of the huge warrior and he flinched away, retreating. She grinned sharp teeth, white and vicious, her gums black and oozing with open sores.
{That’s Gefräßige Wut,} said Aas. {Wendigast.}
ZERFALL HEARD AAS BABBLING: {Ängstlich, he’s a Capgrast. Thinks his wife is a demon. Dämonin Schwindel, beautiful red-head in the green dress, that’s his wife. Starker Narr, he’s the huge Dysmorphic with the morningstar. Unbedacht, the twitchy one who looks like he’s either about to cry or shit himself in fear, he’s a Wütend, a berzerker.} His thoughts, a rapid staccato, grew in volume and she barely kept up with the litany of names and mental illnesses. These were her people. She chose each of these mad souls, bent them to her purpose and bound them to her church. This was the core of the true Täuschung, not the sane fools preaching of heaven and salvation. This group murdered and sent countless souls to Swarm.
How had I thought this was right? How had this been a reasonable path? She hated what she’d built. It was sick. Swarm trapped souls. Forever. It robbed people of all chance at redemption. She didn’t know what happened in the Afterdeath, but Swarm was wrong. It was a blight.
Zerfall wanted to crush them, to take up her sword and—You’re helpless. Even if she had her sword she could barely stand without Jateko’s help.
“Jateko,” she said, looking up into his strong, square-jawed face. “Will you do something for me?”
“Anything.”
She wanted to cry at the speed of his answer. Her soul, whatever that spark was deep inside her, shuddered and wailed in agony. Everyone answered that fast, with no time for thought, when she left them no choice. Bring him away from here. But she couldn’t. She had to end the Täuschung. She needed him. God she hated that word. And she hated herself for what she said next. “The Täuschung, you have to stop them.”
He nodded, returning his attention to the woman in filthy homespun. She approached in dainty steps, eyes alight with malice. “Once I’ve saved you,” he said “we’ll end the Täuschung and Swarm together.”
Her dead tongue tasted of betrayal. “Promise you’ll do this for me. No matter what happens.”
Jateko’s jaw clenched. [What would be the point of going on without her?]
“Promise,” Zerfall begged.
“I promise I will end the Täuschung and Swarm,” swore Jateko.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
“Wait here,” he said.
Drawing Blutblüte, Jateko stepped forward, putting himself between her and the gathered Täuschung.
Momentarily forgetting her missing foot Zerfall tried to follow and the shattered bones of her ankle slipped on slick cobblestones dropping her to the ground.
JATEKO EYED THE PETITE woman in homespun. She had the pale skin of those from the far north and carried no visible weapons. Aside from her sharpened teeth and unhealthy gums, she appeared utterly normal. “She doesn’t look like much.”
