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dark. The priestess even seemed pleased when Stehlen rubbed her lean body against hers. True, Stehlen knew she was no great beauty, but she had a firmness that excited a certain type. The priestess was definitely pleased when Stehlen dragged her into a dark alley growling huskily. She only stopped being pleased when one of Stehlen’s razor-sharp knives opened her throat and she bled out onto the cobblestones.
    Stehlen watched the brainless wench kick and bubble until finally becoming still. She went through the woman’s pockets carefully, helping herself to the few coins there. She also took the small handwoven scarf she found and sniffed at it. The scarf smelled faintly of jasmine, no doubt a gift from some equally brainless lover. She tied it around one wrist, pleased with how it looked.
    BEDECKT WAS INTO his seventh pint before Stehlen returned. The emptied mugs still littered the table, the barkeep apparently afraid to collect them. The additional ales hadn’t improved his pallor and he leaned heavily against the table. The skin on his wan face hung slack and clammy.
    She collapsed onto the overturned box opposite him and examined him as he continued drinking and ignoring her. Stick it, I give up . “Why did I just kill that woman?”
    Bedeckt frowned into his tankard. “Money. If I’m not mistaken.”
    â€œI searched her pockets. She had nothing of value.”
    Bedeckt glanced at the new scarf tied around her wrist and Stehlen hid the hand beneath the table. “I found it.”
    â€œI wasn’t talking about whatever coin you lifted.”
    â€œI told you she had no money,” she snapped.
    Bedeckt continued as if he hadn’t heard. “I have a plan. It needs some fleshing out, but I think it’s a good one.”
    â€œA good one meaning one making us a lot of money? A good one meaning a plan unlike the last dozen? A good one meaning not stupid and dangerous?”
    â€œI think I got one out of three.”
    â€œBloody brilliant. What’s the plan?”
    â€œKidnap this god-child and ransom him back to the Geborene.”
    Stehlen flared nostrils as if scenting the foulest shite. “I thinkone out of three might be generous.” She waved at the barkeep and ordered another round of drinks. “I know what Wichtig will say, ‘A stupid and ill-thought plan. Sounds like fun.’” She spat on the inn floor. “When do we start?”
    â€œTomorrow night. If Wichtig is still alive.”
    Dare to dream the pretty idiot gets himself killed on his moronic quest to be the World’s Most Annoying Swordsman . Stehlen sniffed at her tankard. What the hells is that awful smell?
    â€œSo . . . what’s the plan for tonight?” she asked.
    Bedeckt waved at the barkeep, avoiding eye contact with her. “Drink. Sleep.”
    â€œAnother brilliant plan.” Arsehole.

    The morning sun glinted off the dust raised by the gathered crowd. Bedeckt shaded watering eyes with his half hand. His head thumped like some war stallion kept stamping on it. His clogged nose forced him to breathe through his mouth and chalky dust coated his dry tongue. I should return to the inn and bed. Wichtig can die out here alone.
    He glanced about the crowd. Some fifty people stood in a tight circle, jostling and elbowing for a better view. A massively muscled man, standing in the center of the circle, examined Wichtig with dismissive eyes.
    Bedeckt watched the big man rolled muscled shoulders, and took in the fierce and scarred features. As long as I’m here, I might as well entertain myself . He patted Wichtig on the back. “Your opponent has done his share of killing and enjoyed it.”
    Wichtig grunted, too busy scanning the crowd for attractive women to pay Bedeckt much attention.
    Bedeckt tried again. “Look at those scars. This man has seen a lot of challengers. And killed them.”
    Wichtig glanced dismissively at the Swordsman