The Swindler and the False God - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

For the first time, I thought this was going to be a problem.

Not because Xize was cold.

Because he was too clearheaded.

Clearheaded people were hard to deceive.

Even harder to seduce.

When the black-market boss gave me the job, he clapped me on the shoulder and said, “A Saint is still a man.”

I asked, “Have you tried?”

His smile turned filthy.

“Men don’t need to be tested.”

Now it seemed he had been wrong in every possible way.

Xize was like a door bolted shut.

I wanted to steal the key, but first I slammed right into the door.

The next day, the monastery held morning prayers.

I was seated in the very last row.

The White Tower’s prayer hall was lofty, its stained-glass windows depicting the Holy Blood bestowed by God.

When the light fell through them, everyone looked as if they had been washed clean.

Except me.

I lowered my head and looked at the loose threads on my gray dress, thinking this thing was truly ugly.

Xize stood before the altar.

When he recited the scripture, his voice was even colder than it had been last night.

Not the slightest hint of desire.

Not the slightest hint of humanity, either.

I propped up my chin and watched him.

The nun beside me reminded me in a low voice, “Don’t stare at the Saint.”

“Why not?”

“It’s disrespectful.”

I withdrew my gaze.

“Then it’s his fault for being so good-looking.”

The nun blushed.

After prayers ended, Xize called me to stop.

“Miya.”

I walked over.

“Does the Lord Saint think I’m disrespectful too?”

“You didn’t pray just now.”

“I don’t believe in God.”

“Why?”

I looked at the golden statue on the altar.

“God never saves the poor.”

He said, “The White Tower has given relief to South Market.”

“Moldy bread and watered-down soup?”

I smiled.

“That’s called getting rid of leftovers.”

Xize did not argue.

He looked at me.

“The seventeen households you deceived were all poor.”

That struck exactly where it hurt.

The smile on my face faded.

“They wanted to buy a child brought back from the dead with three silver coins.”

“So you cheated them?”

“I gave them a dream.”

“And after they woke up?”

I said nothing.

Xize handed me a ledger.

“Among the people you deceived, one woman took her own life last night.”

My head snapped up.

“Who?”

“Masha, a washerwoman from South Market.”

I remembered her.

She had come to me holding an old child’s garment, saying her daughter had been dead for three years, and that she wanted to hear her call her ‘Mama’ one more time.

I took two silver coins from her.

Using a child’s-voice wooden whistle hidden behind the curtain, I tricked her into hearing it once.

She cried until she fell to her knees and thanked me.

Xize said, “She left a note saying God was letting her go see her daughter.”

My fingertips went cold.

He looked at me.

“This is what happens after your dream ends.”

For the first time, I couldn’t immediately talk back.

Xize placed the ledger in my hands.

“Before tonight, write down every scam you know.”

“For what?”

“Repayment.”

“I don’t have money.”

“Then repay them with what you do have.”

I gave a small laugh.

“Does the Lord Saint want me to turn over a new leaf?”

“No.”

His voice was very even.

“I want to know whether you’re rotten all the way through.”