3 Chapter 1 (2/2)
”Never!”
”Maybe if Bedeckt here . . . ?” Wichtig trailed off, waggling his eyebrows at her.
Stehlen spat again, hunched deeper in her saddle, and set about ignoring both men.
What the h.e.l.ls was that about? Bedeckt didn't even want to know. He thought about his own money purse. He could have sworn there was more in there, but the last time he'd looked he'd been near dest.i.tute. Had Stehlen helped herself? It didn't matter, she always lent him money when asked. Probably my money anyway. Traveling with a pair of Geisteskranken, one had to accept such things. Kleptics stole and Gefahrgeist manipulated. At least Wichtig's Gefahrgeist talents remained meager; he mostly craved attention. If the Swordsman grew in strength and seemed likely to become a Slaver, Bedeckt would kill him.
When Stehlen didn't rise to the bait, Wichtig sulked like a spoiled child denied candy. ”Think this s.h.i.+te-hole has a Swordsman?” he asked Bedeckt.
”Every s.h.i.+te-hole has a Swordsman.”
”And every s.h.i.+te-hole needs a better Swordsman.”
”And you're that Swordsman?” asked Stehlen snidely.
Wichtig turned flat eyes on her, face expressionless. He held her angry glare until she looked away, uncomfortable. Minor Gefahrgeist Wichtig might be, but few people failed to wither under this a.s.sault of will.
”Belief defines reality,” said Wichtig, as if explaining to a simpleton. ”I believe I will be the Greatest Swordsman in the World.”
”I believe you will be dead first,” said Stehlen icily, still looking away.
”My belief is stronger than yours.”
”Delusional idiot.”
”Of course. But I prefer to believe I am simply that good. I've killed forty-three Greatest Swordsmen. I was Master of Swords in Geldangelegenheiten at twenty-one. An unprecedented honor.”
”Honor,” Stehlen snorted.
”And this coming from a petty thief. A talentless—”
”Talented enough to lift your purse!”
”Dumb enough to tell me about it!”
”Quiet!” Bedeckt shook his head and instantly regretted it. A dull, throbbing pain built in his skull. There must be pounds of snot in there. ”Like b.l.o.o.d.y children. Once I've found a warm bed and a soft woman, the two of you can have this pointless debate. Until then, shut the h.e.l.ls up.”
”The old man's a little grumpy,” observed Wichtig.
”If you involve me in one of your fights, Wichtig, I'll kill you myself. With an ax. You can shove this Greatest Swordsman s.h.i.+te.”
”I could help with the woman part,” Stehlen said.
Bedeckt pretended not to hear and scanned the road ahead for an inn.
”He said soft,” said Wichtig, smirking at Stehlen. ”Even a pig like Bedeckt won't bed you. You're too d.a.m.ned ugly. Perhaps if you offered him some of his money back . . . that which you've pilfered over the last week.”
”I have money,” she said loud enough to be sure Bedeckt heard.
Bedeckt shook his head and flexed the remains of his ruined left hand. ”I'll bed wh.o.r.es. I'm not ready to be one.”
”How many people you steal from in Abfallstadt?” asked Stehlen.
Bedeckt waved away the question, a sharp cutting gesture with his half hand. His head was so clogged with snot he had to breathe through his mouth in short, dusty gasps. Something dry rattled deep in his lungs. Lovely, some new symptom to plague me.
”How many people you kill in the last six months?” Stehlen asked.
”What defines a man is what he won't do,” muttered Bedeckt.
Her hooked nose flared in distaste. ”Murder and thievery are fine, but not s.e.x?”
”s.e.x with you isn't,” said Wichtig. ”At best he'd wake up to find you'd robbed him blind and at worst you'd have one of your violent fits and he'd wake with his throat slit.”
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Bedeckt groaned. This was not a conversation he wanted to have right now. Or ever. ”Drop it. I won't bed you because it'll change everything and make life more difficult than it already is.”
”And you're an unG.o.dly ugly thieving Kleptic b.i.t.c.h,” added Wichtig.
Ignoring Wichtig, Bedeckt continued. ”We work together. We're a team. A s.h.i.+te team, but we get things done. We aren't friends and we sure as s.h.i.+te aren't lovers. Never forget: I'd kill either of you if there was money in it for me.”
”Stop it, I'm getting all misty-eyed.” Wichtig pretended to mop at tears. ”Stehlen, throw me a few gold coins—they're probably mine anyway—and I'll bed you.”
Stehlen's stiletto hissed out and Wichtig laughed at her. Pretending nonchalance, he moved his horse away, carefully staying out of reach.
”There's an inn.” Bedeckt pointed up the street. ”Put your knife away, woman. Gut him after I've had a drink.”
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