Beyond Redemption (14 page)

Bedeckt ignored them both, grimacing at his plate. He hadn't slept well and the thought of food twisted his guts with nausea.

When a man burst into the tavern's main room and excitedly announced GroBe Klinge, Selbsthass's Greatest Swordsman, was dead, Bedeckt glanced despairingly at Wichtig.

“Did I not say I'd kill you if you stirred trouble for us here?”

Wichtig raised his hands, palms out. “I slept here with . . . can't remember her name . . . the barmaid with the fantastic body. I didn't kill this GroBe.”

The bearer of bad news regaled his friends, for the price of
a pint, with word of how GroBe had been found naked in bed, stabbed through the eye.

Not Wichtig's style. But it was . . .

Bedeckt glanced toward Stehlen and noticed Wichtig had done the same. She ignored them and focused on mopping up the last of the grease with a crust.

“What were you up to last night?” asked Wichtig. “Aside from finding your mother's long-lost scarf.”

Stehlen looked up, flared her nostrils, and spat a pepper-flaked wad onto her plate. She ignored Wichtig and met Bedeckt's eyes. “Took care of the business you asked me to look into.”

Bedeckt kept a straight face. She'd killed GroBe to stop Wichtig from fighting him? He should have seen this coming when he'd asked her to make sure Wichtig didn't cause trouble by challenging every Swordsman in the city. Frankly, he hadn't expected her to pay his request any attention, much less wander the city killing Swordsmen before Wichtig could get to them. He shuddered to contemplate the number of bodies she was capable of leaving in a single night. He'd have to dissuade her from killing any more than she already had.

“And just what was this errand you ran for Bedeckt?” Wichtig asked.

Bedeckt answered. “Unrelated to a dead Swordsman. We need to talk about how we're going to get into the Geborene High Temple.”

“Getting in is easy,” said Stehlen. “Getting out with their god-child will be interesting.”

“Interesting?” asked Wichtig, beaming happily. “Interesting sounds fun!”

Stehlen watched the two men lose themselves in their pointless planning, arguing back and forth and getting nowhere. Even
sick and miserable, Bedeckt wanted to plan every last aspect and account for every possible scenario, no matter how farfetched. Wichtig cared only that enough people knew he was involved so as to increase his reputation. Bedeckt's plans always went to complete shite. Still, she looked on as the men grew excited about one plan, saw its flaws, and then became excited about the next flawed plan. She was philosophical about all of this. Sure, it was a grand waste of time, but she took entertainment where she found it. And she had nothing else to do today. Bedeckt would take days to plan this, so she had plenty of time. Stehlen figured she'd go in and get the child tonight and surprise Bedeckt with him tomorrow morning. This city made her uncomfortable and she wanted out as fast as possible.

Around noon they decided to take a break. Wichtig said he wanted to go for a walk to stretch his legs and grumbled annoyance when Bedeckt and Stehlen said they'd join him.

Wichtig followed a few paces behind Bedeckt and Stehlen. If they'd just find something interesting to look at, he'd make good his escape and later claim he'd lost them in the crowd. They wouldn't believe him, but it hardly mattered. But gods damn it, Stehlen glanced over her shoulder every few seconds, smiling sweetly each time—a horrifying expression on
her
face, to say the least—to check he was still there. He'd figure something out. He just needed a chance.

They'd wandered the market for an hour, Stehlen no doubt stealing worthless trinkets from every stall they passed, when Wichtig saw what he'd been hoping for. A lithe young man, slim-hipped, broad-chested, and long of limb, with a fine-looking blade at his side. His well-made clothes bespoke money and taste. Stehlen saw the Swordsman at the same time and shot Wichtig a questioning look. Bedeckt completely missed it.

She'll actually help me?
Wichtig nodded once and turned his attention to a nearby fruit stand. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she broke away from Bedeckt. The old goat didn't notice.

Is she really going to help?
Wichtig couldn't be sure. He'd have sworn she killed GroBe. But why would she? Surely not simply out of spite for some imagined slight. Damn, that scarf looked familiar.

Wichtig watched as Stehlen wandered past the tastefully dressed Swordsman on her way back to Bedeckt and Wichtig. While Bedeckt was distracted discussing the healing properties of some vegetable with an old hag hunched behind her cart, Stehlen slipped Wichtig an expensive money purse filled with coin.

“What have we here?” Wichtig declared loudly, holding the purse up and bouncing it in his hand so the coins jangled enticingly. “I seem to have found some rich arsehole's money purse.” He watched the Swordsman search his pockets and then glare at Wichtig, who, turning circles to address the crowd, raised his voice. “Who is the gap-brained festering crotch of a dandy belonging to this insipid-looking woman's purse? Come now, don't be embarrassed. Come get your dainty little purse.”

Bedeckt turned away from the hag and watched with a look of suspicious confusion.

“It's mine.”

Wichtig turned to face the man and found himself looking into hard eyes the color of a storm-tossed sea. “Figures,” he said.

The man cocked an eyebrow and rested a hand on the pommel of his sword. “Meaning?”

“You are prettily dressed.” Wichtig gestured, a lazy spin of the fingers taking in the man and discarding him as unimportant. “Exactly the kind of effete twat I'd expect to find this purse attached to.”

The crowd suddenly retreated from the two men. Wichtig clearly heard Bedeckt's groan.

The stormy-eyed man smiled cold death. “You must be new here. Or you'd be apologizing and begging me to spare you.”

“If you're going to offer fashion advice, I beg you . . . spare me.”

The crowd guffawed and gathered around. Even these so-called civilized folks hungered for blood.

“I'm Zweiter Stelle, commonly believed to be the second Greatest Swordsman in all of Selbsthass.”

“A pleasure, I'm sure.” Wichtig bowed. “I am Wichtig Lügner. The
best
Swordsman in Selbsthass. It is commonly believed,” he said, mocking Zweiter's voice, “that I am the Greatest Swordsman in the World.”

“Great,” drawled Stehlen, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “Why do they always posture, building up their courage, before finally killing each other?” She shook her head disparagingly. “Swordsmen . . . windbags one and all.”

A few of the crowd laughed and clapped. Everyone had seen Swordsmen make long speeches in an attempt to win the belief of the people before the fighting began. Some felt this was the truest moment of any fight, the beliefs of the mob defined winner and loser. The mob, however, was more interested in seeing blood than listening to long-winded speeches about why one Swordsman was better than the other.

There are times for speeches and times for action. This, Wichtig understood, was the latter. Stehlen had ruined his chance to win the crowd with words—no doubt on purpose. If he kept talking he'd come off as the coward and lose people's faith. Come to think of it, it would have been nice to kill a few lesser Swordsmen—thereby building more of a local reputation—before facing one such as Zweiter Stelle. Had she planned this in an attempt to kill him?

Wichtig shrugged philosophically and drew his sword in a lightning-fast flourish, catching the sun just so. He stood straight and poised. A breeze ruffled his perfect hair.

“Well, come along, Squatter—”

“Zweiter.”

“We don't want to disappoint the crowd.” Wichtig winked at a pretty girl and blew her a kiss. While a long speech might hurt him here, other means of manipulation remained. “My gentle touch is needed elsewhere.”

The crowd formed a large circle around the two men. There was a moment of jostling as those braver and more foolish shoved to get to the front and the cowardly wise pushed to put some people between themselves and the fight. As long as all agreed this was an honest duel and no one was being attacked or coerced, the city guard had no part to play. In fact, a few of the guards joined the thronging crowd and took part in the impromptu betting.

Bedeckt pulled Wichtig aside. “How did you come by the purse?”

“I found it.”

“It stretches the limits of my belief to think you just happened to find the purse of the second-best Swordsman in Selbsthass—perhaps the best now that GroBe is dead—and insulted him.”

Wichtig gave Bedeckt his best look of wounded innocence. “It
is
a womanly purse.” He rolled the tension from his shoulders. He felt like a hawk staring down into a field looking for the telltale movement bespeaking prey. He tossed Zweiter's purse to Bedeckt and the old man caught it in his half hand. Wichtig understood: Bedeckt's good hand always remained free to grab his ax. “Here, put some of his money on the fight. Best put it on me—we wouldn't want to cost him his hard-earned coin.”

Bedeckt placed a firm hand on Wichtig's shoulder and the two made eye contact. “I do hope you survive this.”

Wichtig blinked in surprise. “Well, I'm touched, I didn't think—”

“Because I'm going to kill you afterward.”

“Hey,” protested Wichtig, “I don't have the skills to lift a man's money and you know it. I tell you, in all honesty, I didn't take the purse.”

Bedeckt looked to Stehlen, who flashed him a sickly smile of yellow teeth and flared nostrils.

“Shite,” he said.

He should have known. If he thought he could grab the god-child and escape without the help of these two dangerous idiots, he would have walked away right then and there.

The two fighters squared off, bowed perfunctorily to each other, and began circling. Bedeckt watched with professional disinterest. Might as well enjoy the show.

Zweiter moved well, his balance and grace beautiful to watch. Wichtig, on the other hand, looked unusually clumsy. His feet dragged and his sword kept moving uncertainly, like every time Wichtig thought about attacking he was plagued by doubt.

“If things go badly for Wichtig,” Bedeckt growled to Stehlen, “I'll offer Zweiter a job.”

Stehlen sidled next to Bedeckt and leaned against him. Her warm proximity and the length of time since he'd been with a woman made him uncomfortable.

“Wichtig looks outclassed,” she said.

“He's lulling Zweiter into a false sense of security.”

“If he keeps this up he'll lose the crowd.”

“True,” agreed Bedeckt. “Put my money back.” He was guessing—he hadn't actually felt anything.

Stehlen laughed and he felt her body move against his. “I hadn't taken it. Yet.”

Wichtig and Zweiter tried a few passes but neither touched the other. The local Swordsman showed flawless technique, his attacks fast and precise, whereas Wichtig seemed surprised each
time and barely capable of defending. His own attacks were often deflected before they'd truly began.