Warbreaker Part 19

Until we correspond again, Dedelin, your liege and your friend.

Vivenna looked away from the letter. The room's silence seemed too perfect to her. She wanted to scream at the letter and her father, who was now so far away. And yet, she could not. She had been trained for better. Tantrums were useless showings of arrogance.

Don't draw attention to yourself. Don't set yourself above others. He who makes himself high will be cast down low. But what of the man who murders one of his daughters to save the other? What of the man who does that, but claims-to your face-that it was for other reasons? That it was for the good of Idris? That it wasn't about favoritism at all?

What of the king who betrayed the very most dear tenets of his religion by purchasing Breath for one of his spies?

Vivenna blinked a tear in her eye, then gritted her teeth, angry at herself and the world. Her father was supposed to be a good man. The perfect king. Wise and knowing, always sure of himself and always right in that surety.

The man she read in these letters was far more human. Why should she be so shocked to hear that?

It doesn't matter, she told herself, gritting her teeth. None of that matters. Factions in the Hallandren government were rallying the nation for war. Reading her father's candid words, she finally believed him completely. War was inevitable. Hallandren troops would likely march on her homeland before the year was out. And then, the Hallandren-so colorful yet so deceptive-would take Siri hostage and threaten to kill her unless Dedelin surrendered.

Her father would not give up his kingdom. Siri would be executed.

And that is what I'm here to stop, Vivenna thought. Her hands grew tighter, gripping the wood of the desktop, jaw set. She brushed away the traitorous tear. She had been trained to be strong when surrounded by an unfamiliar city and people. She had work to do.

She rose, leaving the letters on the table with the bag of coins and Lemks' journal. She made her way down the stairs, avoiding the broken steps, to where the mercenaries were teaching Parlin how to play a game with wooden cards. The three men looked up as Vivenna approached. She settled herself carefully on the floor, sitting with her legs beneath her in an una.s.suming posture.

She met their eyes as she spoke. "I know where some of Lemks' money came from," she said. "Idris and Hallandren will soon go to war. Because of this threat, my father gave much more support to Lemks than I had a.s.sumed. He sent enough money for Lemks to buy fifty Breaths, allowing him to enter and spy on court proceedings. Obviously, my father didn't know that Lemks already had a sizable amount of Breath."

The three men were silent. Tonk Fah shot a glance at Denth, who sat back, resting against an overturned, broken chair.

"I believe that Lemks was still loyal to Idris," she said. "His personal writings make that relatively clear. He was not a traitor; he was simply greedy. He wanted as much Breath as possible because he had heard that it extended a person's life. Lemks and my father had planned to hinder the war preparations from inside Hallandren. Lemks promised he would find a way to sabotage the Lifeless armies, damage the city's supplies, and generally undermine their ability to wage war. For him to accomplish this, my father sent him a large sum of money."

"About five hundred marks worth?" Denth asked, rubbing his chin.

"Less than that," Vivenna said. "But a large chunk nonetheless. I believe that you are right about Lemks, Denth-he has been extorting the crown for some time."

She fell silent. Parlin looked confused. That wasn't uncommon. The mercenaries, however, didn't look surprised.

"I don't know if Lemks intended to do as my father asked," Vivenna said, keeping her voice even. "The way he hid the money, some of the things he wrote... well, maybe he was finally planning to turn traitor and run. We can't know what he would eventually have decided. We do, however, have a vague list of things he planned to accomplish. Those plans were convincing enough to persuade my father, and the urgency of his letters have convinced me. We are going to continue Lemks' work and undermine Hallandren's ability to wage war."

The room fell silent. "And... your sister?" Parlin finally asked.

"We will get her out," Vivenna said firmly. "Her rescue and safety is our first priority."

"That is all easier discussed than accomplished, princess," Denth said.

"I know."

The mercenaries shared a look. "Well," Denth finally said, standing up. "Better get back to work, then." He nodded at Tonk Fah, who sighed and grumbled, standing.

"Wait," Vivenna said, frowning. "What?"

"I figured once you saw those papers that you'd want to continue," Denth said, stretching. "Now that I've seen what he was up to, I can piece together why he had us do some of the things we were involved in. One of those things was contact and support for some rebellious factions here in the city, including one that was finally stamped out just a few weeks back. Cult of dissatisfaction centered on a guy named Vahr."

"Always wondered why Lemks gave him support," Tonk Fah said.

"That faction's dead," Denth said. "But a lot of its members are still around. Waiting for trouble to come their way. We can contact them. There are a few other leads I think we can look into, things Lemks didn't tell us about completely, but which I might be able to sort through."

"And... you can handle something like this?" Vivenna asked. "You just said it wouldn't be easy."

Denth shrugged. "Won't be. But, we don't ask questions. We do what we're told. If you haven't figured it out yet, this kind of thing is why Lemks hired us in the first place. Men like him don't ordinarily need a team of three high-priced, specialist mercenaries. We're not exactly the type of men you keep around to serve you tea."

"Unless you want the tea rammed up someplace uncomfortable," Tonk Fah noted.

Three mercenaries? Vivenna thought, pausing. That's right. There's another one. A woman. "Where's the other member of your team?"

"Jewels?" Denth asked. "You'll meet her soon enough."

"Unfortunately," Tonk Fah said under his breath.

Denth elbowed his friend. "For now, let us go back out and see how things stand on our projects. Gather what you want from this house. We'll move out tomorrow."

"Move out?" Vivenna said.

"Unless you want to sleep on a mattress Tonk Fah ripped into five pieces," Denth noted. "He has a thing about mattresses."

"And chairs," Tonk Fah said cheerfully, "and tables, and doors, and walls, actually. Oh, and people."

"Either way, princess," Denth said. "This building was well known to people who worked with Lemks. As you've discovered, he wasn't exactly the most honest fellow around. I doubt you want the baggage that comes with being a.s.sociated with him."

"Best to move to another house," Tonk Fah agreed.

"We'll try not to break up the next one quite so badly," Denth said.

"No promises though," Tonk Fah said with a wink.

And then the two left.

Chapter Eighteen.

Siri stood before the door to her husband's bed chambers, shuffling nervously. As usual, Bluefingers stood beside her, and he was the only other one in the hallway. He scribbled on his pad, giving no indication how he always knew when it was time for her to enter.

For once, she didn't mind the delay, nervous though she was. It gave her more time to think about what she was going to do. The day's events still buzzed about in her head: Tridees, telling her that she needed to provide an heir. Lightsong the Bold, talking in circles, then leaving her with what had seemed like a heartfelt farewell. Her king and husband, sitting on his tower above, bending light around him. The priests below, arguing about whether or not to invade her homeland.

A lot of people wanted to shove her in different directions, yet none of them were really willing to tell her how to do what they wanted-and some didn't even bother to tell her what they wanted. The only thing they were succeeding at was making her annoyed. She was not a seductress. She had no idea how to make the G.o.d King l.u.s.t after her-particularly since she was terrified of him doing just that. She didn't know what people needed of her, and she didn't particularly want to do what she was told.

High Priest Tridees had given her a command. Therefore, she intended to show him how she responded to commands, particularly when they had threats attached to them. Tonight, she would go into the king's bed chamber, sit down on the floor, and refuse to strip. She'd confront the G.o.d King. He didn't want her. Well, she was tired of being ogled every night.

She intended to explain this all to him in no uncertain terms. If he wanted to see her naked, he'd have to order servants to force her clothing off. She doubted that he'd do that. He'd made no move toward her. Even during his reign over the court proceedings, he hadn't done more than sit and watch.

She was getting a new image in her head of this king. He was a man with so much power, he had grown lazy. He was a man who had everything, and so he bothered with nothing. He was a man who liked others to do everything for him. People like him annoyed her. She had known a guard captain in Idris who had insisted making his men work hard, but who had spent his afternoons playing cards.

It was time the G.o.d King was defied. More than that, it was time that his priests learned that they couldn't bully her. She was tired of being used. Tonight, she would react. That was her decision. And it made her nervous as all Colors.

She glanced at Bluefingers. Eventually, she caught his eye. "Do they really watch me each night?" she asked, leaning in and whispering.

He paused, paling slightly. Then, he glanced to either side, then shook his head.

She frowned. But, Tridees knew that I hadn't been bedded by the G.o.d King.

Bluefingers raised a finger, pointing to his eyes, then shook his head. Then he pointed to his ears and nodded. He pointed to a doorway down the hall.

They listen, Siri thought.

Bluefingers leaned in closer. "They would never watch, Vessel," he whispered. "Remember, the G.o.d King is their most holy of deities. Seeing him in his nudity, watching him with his wife... no, they wouldn't dare. However, they aren't above listening."

She nodded. "They are very concerned about an heir."

Bluefingers glanced about nervously.

"Am I really in danger from them?" she asked.

He met her eyes, then nodded sharply. "More danger than you know, Vessel." Then, he backed away, gesturing at the doorway.

You have to help me! she mouthed at him.

He shook his head, holding up his hands. I cannot. Not now. With that, he pushed open the door, bowed, and scuttled away, glancing nervously over his shoulder.

Siri glared at him. The time was swiftly approaching when she'd need to corner him and find out what he really knew. Until then, she had other people to annoy. She turned and glanced into the dark room. Her nerves started up again.

Is this wise? Being belligerent had never bothered her before. And yet... her life wasn't like it had been before. Bluefinger's fear had left her even more on edge.

Defiance. It had always been her way to gain attention. She hadn't been obstinate out of spite, not usually. She'd simply been unable to measure up to Vivenna, so she'd just done the opposite of what was expected. Her defiance had worked in the past. Or had it? Her father had been perpetually angry at her, and Vivenna had always treated her as a child. The city's people had loved her, but their love had seemed suffering.

No, Siri thought suddenly. No, I can't go back to that. The people in this palace-this court-they aren't the types you defy just because you're annoyed. Spurn the palace priests, and they wouldn't grumble at her like her father had. They'd show her what it really meant to be in their power.

But what to do then? She couldn't keep throwing off her clothing and kneeling on the floor, naked, could she?

Feeling confused, and a little angry at herself, she stepped into the dark room, then pulled the door closed. The G.o.d King waited in his corner, shadowed as always. Siri looked at him, staring at that too-calm face. She knew that she should disrobe and kneel, but she didn't.

Not because she felt defiant. Not even because she felt angry or petulant. Because she was tired of wondering. Who was this man who could rule G.o.ds and bend light with the force of his BioChroma? Was he really just a spoiled indolent?

He stared back at her. Like before, he didn't grow angry at her insolence. Watching him, Siri pulled at the strings on her dress, dropping the bulky garment to the floor. She reached for the shoulders of her shift, but hesitated.

No, she thought. This isn't right either.

She glanced down at the shift; the edges of the white garment fuzzed, the white bending into color. She looked up at the G.o.d King's impa.s.sive face.

Then-gritting her teeth against her nervousness-Siri took a step forward.

He tensed. She could see it in the edges of his eyes and around his lips. She took another step forward, the white of her garment bending further into prismatic colors. The G.o.d King didn't do anything. He just watched as she drew closer and closer.

She stopped right in front of him. Then she turned from him and climbed up onto the bed, feeling the deep softness beneath her as she crawled to the middle of its mattress. She sat up on her knees, regarding the black marble wall with its obsidian sheen. The G.o.d King's priest waited just beyond, listening carefully to hear things that were really none of their business.

This, she thought, taking a deep breath, is going to be exceptionally embarra.s.sing. But she'd been forced to lay prostrate, naked, before the G.o.d King for over a week. Was now really the time to start feeling self-conscious?

She began to bounce up and down on the bed, making its springs creak. Then, cringing slightly, she started to moan.

She hoped it was convincing. She didn't really know what it was supposed to sound like. And how long did it usually continue? So, she tried to make her moans get louder and louder, her bouncing more furious, for what she a.s.sumed was a proper amount of time. Then, she stopped sharply, let out a final moan, and fell back onto the bed.

All was still. She glanced up, eying the G.o.d King. Some of his emotional mask had softened, and he displayed a very human look of confusion. She almost laughed out loud at how perplexed he seemed. She just met his eyes and shook her head. Then-her heart beating, her skin a bit sweaty-she rested back on the bed.

It wasn't long after that-tired of the day's events and intrigues-she found herself rolled up in the luxurious comforter and dozing soundly. The G.o.d King left her alone, and as she drifted off, she considered something.

He'd grown tense at her approach, almost as if he were worried. Frightened of her. That couldn't be. He was the G.o.d and King of Hallandren, and she was just a silly girl, swimming in water that was far over her head.

No, he wasn't frightened. The concept was enough to again make her feel like laughing. She kept it in, maintaining the illusion for the listening priests as she drifted off in the comfort of the bed.

The next morning, Lightsong did not get out of bed.

His servants stood around the perimeter of his room like a flock of birds waiting for seed. As noon approached, they began to shuffle uncomfortably, shooting glances at one another.

He remained in bed, staring up at the ornate red canopy. Some servants approached tentatively, placing a tray of food atop a pedestal beside him. Lightsong did not reach for it.

Finally, a figure approached. Large of girth and draped in his priestly robes, Llarimar looked down at his G.o.d, betraying none of the annoyance that Lightsong was sure that he felt.

"Leave us, please," Llarimar said to the servants.

They hesitated, uncertain. When was a G.o.d without his servants?

"Please," Llarimar repeated, though somehow his tone indicated that it was not a request. Slowly, the servants filed from the room. Llarimar moved the tray of food, then sat down on the stool. He studied Lightsong, expression thoughtful.

What did I ever do to earn a priest like him? Lightsong thought. He knew many of the high priests of other Returned, and most of them were various levels of insufferable. Some were easy to bring to anger, others quick to point out fault, and still others were so effusive toward their G.o.ds that it was downright maddening. Tridees, the G.o.d King's own high priest, was so stuck up that he made even G.o.ds feel inferior.

And then there was Llarimar. Patient, understanding. He deserved a better G.o.d.

"All right, your grace," Llarimar said. "What is it this time?"

"I'm sick," Lightsong said.

"You can't get sick, your grace."

Lightsong gave a few weak coughs, to which Llarimar just rolled his eyes.

"Oh come on, Scoot," Lightsong said. "Can't you just play along a little bit?"