Chapter 36
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You can lead a horse to water, but drowning it is surprisingly difficult.
—HOFFNUNGSLOS
Huddled under her blankets, waiting for the dismal dregs of stained sunlight to slump beneath the horizon, Gehirn smelled Neidrig long before it came into sight. What she first took to be outlying slums turned out simply to be the city. Even Gottlos—which by Selbsthass standards was the kind of place you hurried through in order to get somewhere interesting—seemed like a glistening jewel in comparison. With some longing, the Hassebrand thought back to the time when she crossed the Flussrand River into Gottlos, driven by the knowledge that she served her Theocrat. How long ago had that been? A week? It seemed like forever.
Surrounded by the twenty-some-odd townspeople who had survived both the journey and the Slaver's voracious appetite, Erbrechen's litter moved deeper into Neidrig. As they passed decaying hovels, crumbling shanties, collapsing shacks—and the many inhabitants apparently not lucky enough to possess even that much—Erbrechen called out his invitation. The fat Slaver's retinue grew quickly as curiosity brought even more of the city's destitute and downtrodden within range of his voice and influence.
Within the hour more than a thousand people were following Erbrechen's litter, drawn by vague promises and ensnared by his desperate need for worship. The more people who believed in him, the stronger he became and the farther his influence reached. No doubt some fled the city, those few deranged enough to to think they saw the future or smart enough to understand the danger, but the vast majority remained.
Erbrechen's friends set up camp in the center of the city. Gehirn, standing beside the litter, examined the view. This was clearly the most prosperous part of town; most of the buildings retained their roofs and some even had a second floor.
Fearing any building he might enter would collapse under his weight, Erbrechen commanded a score of men and women to construct a large tent—made mostly of stained sheets hastily stitched together and tied to poles, buildings, or anything else handy. One corner was held up by a man Erbrechen told not to move. Though his arms quivered with the strain, he stayed loyally at his post, apparently thankful for the opportunity to serve.
Erbrechen wrinkled his nose and smacked pink lips at Gehirn. "They certainly are a ripe bunch."
"A little fire would cleanse the lot," muttered Gehirn.
"Don't you dare!" Erbrechen commanded with mock outrage.
The Hassebrand scowled and turned to hide the small pouch of seeds and nuts she drew from within her robe. Even with the pompous Mayor dead, someone still sought to poison her. She picked at the seeds, nibbling like a starved bird. Who could it be? Did Konig have agents in Erbrechen's camp?
Erbrechen watched the tall Hassebrand with concern. The woman was growing ever more unstable. Not that she had ever been particularly sane, he thought with a small giggle.
The dilemma vexed him greatly. The Hassebrand was frighteningly powerful and thus as useful as she was dangerous. Erbrechen considered sending Gehirn away on some make-work task. Preferably one ending in her death.
And yet he hesitated.
Once away from me, she'll be susceptible to the influences of others.
But that wasn't it; he couldn't bring himself to let go of her.
He examined the Hassebrand's hunched shoulders, the glistening dome of her bald skull. Why did it matter so much that she love him?
Everyone loves me!
They had to.
But she wants to!
And didn't.
With a grumbled sigh Erbrechen folded chubby hands across his gelatinous belly and cast his gaze about for the remaining blond sister. Where is the damned girl? She couldn't have gone far without his permission.
"Did we eat the girl in last night's stew?" he called to Gehirn's back, hoping his joke would break her foul mood.
The Hassebrand shrugged without turning. That stung. Why is she ignoring me? He gave her a place at the center of his grand design, saved her from burning herself alive, and she repaid him with rudeness. And lies, he reminded himself.
But I am resilient. Truly kindhearted and forgiving. Already the pain of her betrayal fades.
Why wouldn't she turn and look at him? Was she angry? What could she possibly be angry about?
Allowing himself to feel something for the woman had been a mistake.
She's lucky she's useful, he told himself, or I'd send her away.
He giggled and then stopped, annoyed. Where was the damned girl? He needed attention.
"How do we keep losing them?" Erbrechen aimed his question to the gods above. Though there was no answer, he knew someday, someday soon, there would be.
A few hours later, once it became obvious Morgen was not numbered among those who had fallen under Erbrechen's influence, the Slaver sent teams to scour the countryside. Instructed to bring back, unharmed, any young boy they found, these desperate men and women devastated the towns and farming communities surrounding Neidrig. They murdered families in their sleep, stealing young boys and girls away to be dragged back to Erbrechen's tent. Though a few of the groups didn't return, perhaps a result of regaining some sanity once they were free from Erbrechen's direct influence, most did.
In a few hours Erbrechen's army of children outnumbered the adults. He was more than comfortable with this. The young were so malleable, so easy to teach and twist. And those few finding their way into the evening stew were tender and tasty.
EARLY THE NEXT morning word arrived that two men and a woman had fled west with a young boy rumored to have brought a cat and a Swordsman back from the dead. Erbrechen, sure this must be his prey, ordered the the thronging thousands surrounding his makeshift tent to break camp.
As his new friends packed up the few belongings they'd be bringing—mostly food and blankets—others worked to hastily improve his litter. Both Erbrechen and Gehirn rode within its canopied interior as scores of men struggled to manipulate it down the narrow and winding streets of the soon-to-be-abandoned city.
WHEN THE SUN once again fell, Erbrechen's retinue had barely traveled beyond Neidrig's outer slums. After they knocked down a few homes for firewood, the orgy lasted late into the night.
The Hassebrand sat in glum silence at Erbrechen's side, uncommunicative and no fun at all. Perhaps I should let her roast a few of my more annoying friends. Fire always seemed to lift her mood. Yes, perfect idea! Perhaps then she'd see how giving he was.
Erbrechen leaned toward Gehirn and suddenly became aware of the heat emanating from the woman. He'd thought this a lovely warm evening, but when he noticed how his followers huddled around their campfires, he realized Gehirn kept him warm.
Better not play with fire, Erbrechen decided. The Hassebrand was too unstable.
He heard the piteous yowling of a cat. Moments later the answering yowls of a crowd of voices echoed through the vacant streets.
"What in the hells is that?" Erbrechen asked of one of his nearby friends.
"Cult of the Dead Cat," the woman answered, beaming with the opportunity to talk directly to him. "They crawl where the cats crawls, repeat everything it says."
"Are there a lot of them?"
"Hundreds," she answered.
"Why aren't they following me? I say things much more interesting than meow."
The woman, wearing nothing but a filthy yellow shirt, blinked up at him stupidly.
With a grunt Erbrechen sat back. Why weren't they following him? What did the cat have that he didn't?
Flickering orange shadows danced upon the remaining walls in sinuous mimicry of the rutting and writhing of those closest to the raging bonfire.
Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click www.webnovel.com for visiting.
"There's some cult worshiping a dead cat," Erbrechen told Gehirn, hoping to break her uncomfortable silence. "Imagine," he mused, "if enough people follow it, it might Ascend."
"Am I in the Afterdeath already? Is this punishment?" Gehirn asked as if she hadn't heard him.
What the hells did that mean? What was going on in this woman's deranged mind? "Is this so bad?" he asked. "Is being with me such a burden?"
Teeth bared in a canine snarl, she spun to face him "Yes! I . . ." Her words trickled to silence as she looked into his eyes. "No. Of course not." She swallowed, turning away. "I'm sorry."
How could she be unhappy, sitting here right next to me? It was impossible! "You do love me, right?"
"Yes. Of course."
"And you're happy, right?"
She nodded without speaking.
"Say it aloud," he commanded.
"I'm happy."
She didn't look happy.
"You don't look happy."
Gehirn smiled sweetly, her eyes full of love.
"Better."
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You can lead a horse to water, but drowning it is surprisingly difficult.
—HOFFNUNGSLOS
Huddled under her blankets, waiting for the dismal dregs of stained sunlight to slump beneath the horizon, Gehirn smelled Neidrig long before it came into sight. What she first took to be outlying slums turned out simply to be the city. Even Gottlos—which by Selbsthass standards was the kind of place you hurried through in order to get somewhere interesting—seemed like a glistening jewel in comparison. With some longing, the Hassebrand thought back to the time when she crossed the Flussrand River into Gottlos, driven by the knowledge that she served her Theocrat. How long ago had that been? A week? It seemed like forever.
Surrounded by the twenty-some-odd townspeople who had survived both the journey and the Slaver's voracious appetite, Erbrechen's litter moved deeper into Neidrig. As they passed decaying hovels, crumbling shanties, collapsing shacks—and the many inhabitants apparently not lucky enough to possess even that much—Erbrechen called out his invitation. The fat Slaver's retinue grew quickly as curiosity brought even more of the city's destitute and downtrodden within range of his voice and influence.
Within the hour more than a thousand people were following Erbrechen's litter, drawn by vague promises and ensnared by his desperate need for worship. The more people who believed in him, the stronger he became and the farther his influence reached. No doubt some fled the city, those few deranged enough to to think they saw the future or smart enough to understand the danger, but the vast majority remained.
Erbrechen's friends set up camp in the center of the city. Gehirn, standing beside the litter, examined the view. This was clearly the most prosperous part of town; most of the buildings retained their roofs and some even had a second floor.
Fearing any building he might enter would collapse under his weight, Erbrechen commanded a score of men and women to construct a large tent—made mostly of stained sheets hastily stitched together and tied to poles, buildings, or anything else handy. One corner was held up by a man Erbrechen told not to move. Though his arms quivered with the strain, he stayed loyally at his post, apparently thankful for the opportunity to serve.
Erbrechen wrinkled his nose and smacked pink lips at Gehirn. "They certainly are a ripe bunch."
"A little fire would cleanse the lot," muttered Gehirn.
"Don't you dare!" Erbrechen commanded with mock outrage.
The Hassebrand scowled and turned to hide the small pouch of seeds and nuts she drew from within her robe. Even with the pompous Mayor dead, someone still sought to poison her. She picked at the seeds, nibbling like a starved bird. Who could it be? Did Konig have agents in Erbrechen's camp?
Erbrechen watched the tall Hassebrand with concern. The woman was growing ever more unstable. Not that she had ever been particularly sane, he thought with a small giggle.
The dilemma vexed him greatly. The Hassebrand was frighteningly powerful and thus as useful as she was dangerous. Erbrechen considered sending Gehirn away on some make-work task. Preferably one ending in her death.
And yet he hesitated.
Once away from me, she'll be susceptible to the influences of others.
But that wasn't it; he couldn't bring himself to let go of her.
He examined the Hassebrand's hunched shoulders, the glistening dome of her bald skull. Why did it matter so much that she love him?
Everyone loves me!
They had to.
But she wants to!
And didn't.
With a grumbled sigh Erbrechen folded chubby hands across his gelatinous belly and cast his gaze about for the remaining blond sister. Where is the damned girl? She couldn't have gone far without his permission.
"Did we eat the girl in last night's stew?" he called to Gehirn's back, hoping his joke would break her foul mood.
The Hassebrand shrugged without turning. That stung. Why is she ignoring me? He gave her a place at the center of his grand design, saved her from burning herself alive, and she repaid him with rudeness. And lies, he reminded himself.
But I am resilient. Truly kindhearted and forgiving. Already the pain of her betrayal fades.
Why wouldn't she turn and look at him? Was she angry? What could she possibly be angry about?
Allowing himself to feel something for the woman had been a mistake.
She's lucky she's useful, he told himself, or I'd send her away.
He giggled and then stopped, annoyed. Where was the damned girl? He needed attention.
"How do we keep losing them?" Erbrechen aimed his question to the gods above. Though there was no answer, he knew someday, someday soon, there would be.
A few hours later, once it became obvious Morgen was not numbered among those who had fallen under Erbrechen's influence, the Slaver sent teams to scour the countryside. Instructed to bring back, unharmed, any young boy they found, these desperate men and women devastated the towns and farming communities surrounding Neidrig. They murdered families in their sleep, stealing young boys and girls away to be dragged back to Erbrechen's tent. Though a few of the groups didn't return, perhaps a result of regaining some sanity once they were free from Erbrechen's direct influence, most did.
In a few hours Erbrechen's army of children outnumbered the adults. He was more than comfortable with this. The young were so malleable, so easy to teach and twist. And those few finding their way into the evening stew were tender and tasty.
EARLY THE NEXT morning word arrived that two men and a woman had fled west with a young boy rumored to have brought a cat and a Swordsman back from the dead. Erbrechen, sure this must be his prey, ordered the the thronging thousands surrounding his makeshift tent to break camp.
As his new friends packed up the few belongings they'd be bringing—mostly food and blankets—others worked to hastily improve his litter. Both Erbrechen and Gehirn rode within its canopied interior as scores of men struggled to manipulate it down the narrow and winding streets of the soon-to-be-abandoned city.
WHEN THE SUN once again fell, Erbrechen's retinue had barely traveled beyond Neidrig's outer slums. After they knocked down a few homes for firewood, the orgy lasted late into the night.
The Hassebrand sat in glum silence at Erbrechen's side, uncommunicative and no fun at all. Perhaps I should let her roast a few of my more annoying friends. Fire always seemed to lift her mood. Yes, perfect idea! Perhaps then she'd see how giving he was.
Erbrechen leaned toward Gehirn and suddenly became aware of the heat emanating from the woman. He'd thought this a lovely warm evening, but when he noticed how his followers huddled around their campfires, he realized Gehirn kept him warm.
Better not play with fire, Erbrechen decided. The Hassebrand was too unstable.
He heard the piteous yowling of a cat. Moments later the answering yowls of a crowd of voices echoed through the vacant streets.
"What in the hells is that?" Erbrechen asked of one of his nearby friends.
"Cult of the Dead Cat," the woman answered, beaming with the opportunity to talk directly to him. "They crawl where the cats crawls, repeat everything it says."
"Are there a lot of them?"
"Hundreds," she answered.
"Why aren't they following me? I say things much more interesting than meow."
The woman, wearing nothing but a filthy yellow shirt, blinked up at him stupidly.
With a grunt Erbrechen sat back. Why weren't they following him? What did the cat have that he didn't?
Flickering orange shadows danced upon the remaining walls in sinuous mimicry of the rutting and writhing of those closest to the raging bonfire.
Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click www.webnovel.com for visiting.
"There's some cult worshiping a dead cat," Erbrechen told Gehirn, hoping to break her uncomfortable silence. "Imagine," he mused, "if enough people follow it, it might Ascend."
"Am I in the Afterdeath already? Is this punishment?" Gehirn asked as if she hadn't heard him.
What the hells did that mean? What was going on in this woman's deranged mind? "Is this so bad?" he asked. "Is being with me such a burden?"
Teeth bared in a canine snarl, she spun to face him "Yes! I . . ." Her words trickled to silence as she looked into his eyes. "No. Of course not." She swallowed, turning away. "I'm sorry."
How could she be unhappy, sitting here right next to me? It was impossible! "You do love me, right?"
"Yes. Of course."
"And you're happy, right?"
She nodded without speaking.
"Say it aloud," he commanded.
"I'm happy."
She didn't look happy.
"You don't look happy."
Gehirn smiled sweetly, her eyes full of love.
"Better."
You can lead a horse to water, but drowning it is surprisingly difficult.HOFFNUNGSLOSHuddled under her blankets, waiting for the dismal dregs of stained sunlight to slump beneath the horizon, Gehirn smelled Neidrig long before it came into sight. What she first took to be outlying slums turned out simply to be the city. Even Gottloswhich by Selbsthass standards was the kind of place you hurried through in order to get somewhere interestingseemed like a glistening jewel in comparison. With some longing, the Hassebrand thought back to the time when she crossed the Flussrand River into Gottlos, driven by the knowledge that she served her Theocrat. How long ago had that been? A week? It seemed like forever.Surrounded by the twenty-some-odd townspeople who had survived both the journey and the Slaver's voracious appetite, Erbrechen's litter moved deeper into Neidrig. As they passed decaying hovels, crumbling shanties, collapsing shacksand the many inhabitants apparently not lucky enough to possess even that muchErbrechen called out his invitation. The fat Slaver's retinue grew quickly as curiosity brought even more of the city's destitute and downtrodden within range of his voice and influence.Within the hour more than a thousand people were following Erbrechen's litter, drawn by vague promises and ensnared by his desperate need for worship. The more people who believed in him, the stronger he became and the farther his influence reached. No doubt some fled the city, those few deranged enough to to think they saw the future or smart enough to understand the danger, but the vast majority remained.Erbrechen's friends set up camp in the center of the city. Gehirn, standing beside the litter, examined the view. This was clearly the most prosperous part of town; most of the buildings retained their roofs and some even had a second floor.Fearing any building he might enter would collapse under his weight, Erbrechen commanded a score of men and women to construct a large tentmade mostly of stained sheets hastily stitched together and tied to poles, buildings, or anything else handy. One corner was held up by a man Erbrechen told not to move. Though his arms quivered with the strain, he stayed loyally at his post, apparently thankful for the opportunity to serve.Erbrechen wrinkled his nose and smacked pink lips at Gehirn. "They certainly are a ripe bunch.""A little fire would cleanse the lot," muttered Gehirn."Don't you dare!" Erbrechen commanded with mock outrage.The Hassebrand scowled and turned to hide the small pouch of seeds and nuts she drew from within her robe. Even with the pompous Mayor dead, someone still sought to poison her. She picked at the seeds, nibbling like a starved bird. Who could it be? Did Konig have agents in Erbrechen's camp?Erbrechen watched the tall Hassebrand with concern. The woman was growing ever more unstable. Not that she had ever been particularly sane, he thought with a small giggle.The dilemma vexed him greatly. The Hassebrand was frighteningly powerful and thus as useful as she was dangerous. Erbrechen considered sending Gehirn away on some make-work task. Preferably one ending in her death.And yet he hesitated.Once away from me, she'll be susceptible to the influences of others.But that wasn't it; he couldn't bring himself to let go of her.He examined the Hassebrand's hunched shoulders, the glistening dome of her bald skull. Why did it matter so much that she love him?Everyone loves me!They had to.But she wants to!And didn't.With a grumbled sigh Erbrechen folded chubby hands across his gelatinous belly and cast his gaze about for the remaining blond sister. Where is the damned girl? She couldn't have gone far without his permission."Did we eat the girl in last night's stew?" he called to Gehirn's back, hoping his joke would break her foul mood.The Hassebrand shrugged without turning. That stung. Why is she ignoring me? He gave her a place at the center of his grand design, saved her from burning herself alive, and she repaid him with rudeness. And lies, he reminded himself.But I am resilient. Truly kindhearted and forgiving. Already the pain of her betrayal fades.Why wouldn't she turn and look at him? Was she angry? What could she possibly be angry about?Allowing himself to feel something for the woman had been a mistake.She's lucky she's useful, he told himself, or I'd send her away.He giggled and then stopped, annoyed. Where was the damned girl? He needed attention."How do we keep losing them?" Erbrechen aimed his question to the gods above. Though there was no answer, he knew someday, someday soon, there would be.A few hours later, once it became obvious Morgen was not numbered among those who had fallen under Erbrechen's influence, the Slaver sent teams to scour the countryside. Instructed to bring back, unharmed, any young boy they found, these desperate men and women devastated the towns and farming communities surrounding Neidrig. They murdered families in their sleep, stealing young boys and girls away to be dragged back to Erbrechen's tent. Though a few of the groups didn't return, perhaps a result of regaining some sanity once they were free from Erbrechen's direct influence, most did.In a few hours Erbrechen's army of children outnumbered the adults. He was more than comfortable with this. The young were so malleable, so easy to teach and twist. And those few finding their way into the evening stew were tender and tasty.EARLY THE NEXT morning word arrived that two men and a woman had fled west with a young boy rumored to have brought a cat and a Swordsman back from the dead. Erbrechen, sure this must be his prey, ordered the the thronging thousands surrounding his makeshift tent to break camp.As his new friends packed up the few belongings they'd be bringingmostly food and blanketsothers worked to hastily improve his litter. Both Erbrechen and Gehirn rode within its canopied interior as scores of men struggled to manipulate it down the narrow and winding streets of the soon-to-be-abandoned city.WHEN THE SUN once again fell, Erbrechen's retinue had barely traveled beyond Neidrig's outer slums. After they knocked down a few homes for firewood, the orgy lasted late into the night.The Hassebrand sat in glum silence at Erbrechen's side, uncommunicative and no fun at all. Perhaps I should let her roast a few of my more annoying friends. Fire always seemed to lift her mood. Yes, perfect idea! Perhaps then she'd see how giving he was.Erbrechen leaned toward Gehirn and suddenly became aware of the heat emanating from the woman. He'd thought this a lovely warm evening, but when he noticed how his followers huddled around their campfires, he realized Gehirn kept him warm.Better not play with fire, Erbrechen decided. The Hassebrand was too unstable.He heard the piteous yowling of a cat. Moments later the answering yowls of a crowd of voices echoed through the vacant streets."What in the hells is that?" Erbrechen asked of one of his nearby friends."Cult of the Dead Cat," the woman answered, beaming with the opportunity to talk directly to him. "They crawl where the cats crawls, repeat everything it says.""Are there a lot of them?""Hundreds," she answered."Why aren't they following me? I say things much more interesting than meow."The woman, wearing nothing but a filthy yellow shirt, blinked up at him stupidly.With a grunt Erbrechen sat back. Why weren't they following him? What did the cat have that he didn't?Flickering orange shadows danced upon the remaining walls in sinuous mimicry of the rutting and writhing of those closest to the raging bonfire. Find authorized novels in Webnovelfaster updates, better experiencePlease click www.webnovel.com for visiting."There's some cult worshiping a dead cat," Erbrechen told Gehirn, hoping to break her uncomfortable silence. "Imagine," he mused, "if enough people follow it, it might Ascend.""Am I in the Afterdeath already? Is this punishment?" Gehirn asked as if she hadn't heard him.What the hells did that mean? What was going on in this woman's deranged mind? "Is this so bad?" he asked. "Is being with me such a burden?"Teeth bared in a canine snarl, she spun to face him "Yes! I . . ." Her words trickled to silence as she looked into his eyes. "No. Of course not." She swallowed, turning away. "I'm sorry."How could she be unhappy, sitting here right next to me? It was impossible! "You do love me, right?""Yes. Of course.""And you're happy, right?"She nodded without speaking."Say it aloud," he commanded."I'm happy."She didn't look happy."You don't look happy."Gehirn smiled sweetly, her eyes full of love."Better."
