Free Beyond Redemption by Michael R. Fletcher Page A

know, Theocrat. Bishop Bombastisch tried to send you a dream message direct but found four of you and countless shadows. She couldn’t be sure which was the real you and feltit safer to dispatch me to guarantee you and you alone got the message.”
    â€œYou rode from Mitteldirne? Bombastisch is a fool! She wasted critically important time.”
    Aufschlag’s guts boiled with acid. Konig would send people to the temple in Unbrauchbar to investigate. They’d report everything, including the names of the dead. Konig would know of Aufschlag’s betrayal. The scientist stared at the Theocrat’s back.
    Kill him. Kill him now before he learns of Wegwerfen .
    The acolyte swallowed his fear. “Sir, Bishop Bombastisch is a powerful Intermetic. She swapped me for someone she knew—a nephew, I believe—who lives on the outskirts of Selbsthass. This isn’t my usual body. I was able to bring you the message in little more than a day.”
    Konig turned gray eyes on Aufschlag and the acolyte looked like he’d just disappointed his father. Or his god. Aufschlag, who had been thinking dark thoughts of murder, found himself suddenly unable to think about anything other than those gray eyes. They were empty like death.
    â€œCould it be the Wahnvor Stellung?” Konig asked Aufschlag. “Could this be the beginning of a bigger attack?”
    Konig never failed to surprise Aufschlag; his questions cut straight to the meat of the issue. He saw what no one else saw. Such a thought had not even occurred to Aufschlag. The man’s mind was nothing short of amazing. He was a genius! How could Aufschlag have entertained thoughts of violence?
    He considered Konig’s question. Wahnvor Stellung was the single greatest religion, its temples found in virtually every city-state. If the Wahnvor knew what the Geborene planned, they would definitely seek to put an end to the project. But this didn’t fit. The religion was massive; they had the strength and faith of vastly superior numbers and were confident in their reality. Why would they attack such a pitiful little church as the one in Gottlos?
    â€œIt’s possible,” said Aufschlag, “but I don’t think so.”
    â€œWhat of the Täuschung?” Konig asked.
    â€œTheir following seems confined to the east,” answered Aufschlag, surprised the Theocrat had even heard of the ancient sect. “I think they’re based in Geldangelegenheiten. They rarely proselytize, haven’t grown or changed in thousands of years, and seem more intent on sending souls to their deranged idea of an Afterdeath. ‘Swarm,’ I believe they call it. They claim there is only one true god, whose sole task is to govern and maintain the rules defining . . .” Aufschlag realized Konig stared at him with growing impatience. “Probably not the Täuschung,” he finished lamely.
    Konig stood motionless, tall and gaunt, eyes hooded like a bird of prey. No one spoke, waiting for the words of the High Priest.
    â€œOur project threatens everything the Wahnvor believe. When we succeed, everyone will know we have always been right; the gods did not create us, we created them. Their religion will die. If it is not the Wahnvor, we have a new enemy. One we did not previously know of. A much more dangerous enemy.” Konig took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I must know for sure.” He spun to face the acolyte, who flinched. “Were the Unbrauchbar priests tortured?”
    â€œMost died quickly, throats cut as they went about their duties or lay sleeping.”
    â€œBut we don’t know for sure.”
    The acolyte opened his mouth to answer but Konig turned away. “I must know what our enemies know. Aufschlag, bring me Gehirn Schlechtes. I will send the Hassebrand. She will bring me answers.”
    Aufschlag stifled a groan of terror. Gehirn was a lunatic, on the edge of losing control of her