Beyond Redemption Read Online Free PDF Page A

delusion, there can be no truth. If there is no truth, how can there be lies?
    â€”W AHRHEIT E RTRINKT , P HILOSOPHER
    T he inn consisted of four round tables made of wagon wheels tipped on their side, with several roughhewn planks thrown over the top. Two large crates with wood planks hanging bowed between them made up the bar. Overturned boxes were chairs.
    â€œIt’s perfect,” announced Bedeckt as he sat heavily at the only empty table. His back ached.
    Looking about the room, Wichtig sniffed and said loudly, “Shite-hole.” The faces of the half-dozen patrons turned to look at the recent arrivals.
    Stehlen, as always, sat across from Bedeckt. Covering the angles, watching his back.
    Remaining standing, Wichtig looked around the room, meeting the eyes of each patron and waiting until they looked away.“A shite-hole,” he enunciated carefully. “Infested with vermin. Rats and cockless cockroaches.”
    Bedeckt took the ax from its customary place at his back and set it on the table. The old boards groaned under the weight. “If you want a fight, go elsewhere. I want to sit and drink.”
    â€œBut if I start a fight elsewhere,” said Wichtig reasonably, “you won’t be there to back me up.” Seeing Bedeckt remained unmoved, he grunted and sat. “Boring.”
    â€œOnly boring people get bored,” said Bedeckt, ignoring Wichtig’s look of hurt confusion. “Get us ale.”
    Wichtig dropped the feigned hurt without comment, but sat unmoving. He stared at the barkeep until the man wilted under the weight of his dead eyes. Not once did the young Swordsman blink. Less than a minute later three tankards of warm ale sat on their table.
    Four pints—each—later the inn door opened and a gust of dry air blew dust into their tankards and eyes. Bedeckt heard the collective groan of the other patrons, who, until this moment, had remained carefully silent. Unwilling to meet Wichtig’s eyes, they avoided looking at the group of three at all. Even the barkeep brought fresh tankards without making eye contact or uttering a word.
    Stehlen, blinking the dust from her eyes, looked to the door. She groaned. “Gods-damned priestess.”
    Wichtig turned to see the woman at the door and nodded appreciatively. “That’s a little something tasty,” he called loudly.
    Bedeckt enjoyed the Swordsman’s surprise when, instead of flinching and moving away, the young woman walked directly to their table. Great. Another crazy priest trying to save our lost souls . If she had even an inkling of the people she approached, she’d turn and flee.
    â€œGreetings, travelers.” The priestess wore long, dust-coloredrobes and couldn’t have been a day over twenty. She stood at their table, looking entirely relaxed.
    Bedeckt examined her, trying to get an idea of what might be under those robes, not caring how uncomfortable his inspection made her. “Travelers?”
    â€œSaw you ride in,” she said. If his attention bothered her, she hid it masterfully. “And there aren’t that many people in Unbrauchbar.”
    â€œShite-hole,” corrected Wichtig.
    The priestess accepted this with a small tilt of her head. “Wherever you are, there you are. We define our reality.”
    Bedeckt, enjoying Wichtig’s look of confusion, decided to humor her. It would pass the time and maybe keep his two companions from each other’s throat. “I recognize that philosophy.”
    â€œGeborene Damonen,” said the priestess. “You’ve heard of us.”
    â€œBut as a philosophy, not a religion,” said Bedeckt. The ale had loosened the snot in his skull, and closing one nostril with a blunt and filthy finger, he blew a great wad of it onto the floor. The relief was brief and his sinuses quickly refilled.
    The priestess raised an eyebrow at the puddled snot and continued. “Philosophy and religion are