Warbreaker Part 42

"The first G.o.d King of Hallandren is ancient," Hoid said. "Ancient, yes. Older than kingdoms and cities, older than monarchs and religions. Not older than the mountains, for they were already here. Like the knuckles of the sleeping giants below, they formed this valley, where panthers and flowers both make their home.

"People speak of the valley then, a place before it had a name. The people of Chedesh were dominant upon the world, though their empire has long since been taken by the dust. They sailed the inner sea, coming from the east, and it was they who first discovered this strange land. Their writings are spa.r.s.e, but memory remains. Perhaps you can imagine their surprise upon arriving here? A place with beaches of sand, with fruits aplenty, and with strange, alien forests?"

Hoid reached into his robes and pulled out a handful of something else. He began to drop it before him-bright green leaves from the fronds of a fern.

"Paradise, they called it," Hoid whispered. "A paradise hidden between the mountains, a land with pleasant rains that never grew cold, a land where succulent food grew spontaneously." He threw the handful of leaves into the air, and in the center of them puffed a burst of colorful dust. Deep reds and blues mixed in the air, blowing before him.

"A land of color," he said. "Because of the Tears of Edgli, the flowers of such brilliant beauty that their dyes would hold fast in any cloth."

Siri had never really thought about how Hallandren would look to people who came across the Inner Sea. She'd heard stories from the ramblemen who came into Idris, and they spoke of distant places. In other lands, one found parries and steppes, mountains and deserts. But not jungles. Hallandren was unique.

"The First Returned was born during this time," Hoid said, sprinkling a handful of silver glitter into the air before him. "Aboard a ship that was sailing the coast. Returned can now be found in all parts of the world, but the first one-the man whom we name only by his t.i.tle-was born here. In the waters of this very bay. He reported the Five Visions. He died a week later.

"The men of his ship founded a kingdom upon these beaches, then called Ha.n.a.ld. Before they arrived, all that had existed in these jungles was the people of Pahn Kahl, more a collection of fishing villages than a true kingdom."

The glitter ran out, and Hoid began to drop a powdery brown dirt from his other hand as he reached into another pocket. "Now, you may wonder why I must travel back so far. Should I not speak of the Manywar, of the shattering of kingdoms, of the Five Scholars and of Klad the Usurper? Those are the events we focus upon, the ones men know the best. To talk of them only, however, is to ignore the history of three hundred years that led up to them.

"Would there have been a Manywar without knowledge of the Returned? It was a Returned, after all, who predicted the war and prompted Strifelover to attack the kingdoms across the mountains."

"Strifelover?" Siri interrupted.

"Yes, your majesty," Hoid said, switching to a black dust. "Strifelover. Another name for Klad the Usurper."

"That sounds like the name of a Returned."

Hoid nodded. "Indeed," he said. "Klad was Returned, as was Peacegiver, the man who overthrew him and founded Hallandren. We haven't arrived at that part yet. We are still back in Ha.n.a.ld, the outpost-become-kingdom founded by the men of the First Returned's crew. They were the ones who placed the First Returned's wife as their queen, then used the Tears of Edgli to create fantastic dyes which sold for untold riches across the world. This soon became a popular place."

He removed a handful of flower petals and began to let them fall before him. "The Tears of Edgli. The source of Hallandren wealth. Such small things, so easy to grow here. And yet, this is the only soil where they will live. In other parts of the world, dyes are very difficult to obtain. Expensive. Some scholars say that the Manywar was fought over these little flower petals, that the kingdoms of Kuth and Huth were destroyed by little drips of color."

The petals fell to the floor.

"But only some of the scholars say that, storyteller?" Lightsong said. Siri turned, almost having forgotten that he was watching. "What do the rest say? Why was the Manywar fought in their minds?"

The storyteller fell silent for a moment. And then he pulled out two handfuls and began to release dust of a half-dozen different colors. "Breath, your grace. Most agree that the Manywar was not only about plants squeezed dry, but a much greater prize. People squeezed dry.

"You know, perhaps, that the royal family was growing increasingly interested in the process by which Breath could be used to bring objects to life. Awakening, it was being called. It was a fresh and newly-understood art, then. It still is, in many ways. The workings of the souls of men-their power to make simple clumps of dirt and flesh become living people-is something discovered barely four centuries ago. A short time, by the accounting of G.o.ds."

"Unlike a court proceeding," Lightsong mumbled, glancing over at the priests who were still talking about sanitation. "Those seem to last an eternity, according to the accounting of G.o.ds."

The storyteller didn't break stride at the interruption. "Breath," he said. "The years leading up to the Manywar, those were the days of the Five Scholars and the discovery of new Commands. To some, this was a time of great enlightenment and learning. Others call them the darkest days of men, for it was the day that we best learned to exploit one another."

He began to drop two handfuls of dust, one bright yellow, the other black. Siri watched, amused. He seemed to be slanting what he said toward her, careful not to offend her Idris sensibilities. What did she really know of Breath? She'd rarely even seen any Awakeners in the Court. Even when she did, she didn't really care. The monks had spoken against such things, but, well, she had paid about as much attention to them as she had her tutors.

"One of the Five Scholars made a discovery," Hoid continued, dropping a handful of white sc.r.a.ps, made of scrunched up pieces of paper with writing on them. "Commands. Methods. The means by which a Lifeless could be created from a single breath.

"This, perhaps, seems a small thing to you. You must look at the past of this kingdom and its founding. Hallandren came from the servants of a Returned and was developed by an aggressive, expansive mercantile effort. It controlled a very lucrative section of land which, through the discovery and maintenance of the northern pa.s.ses-mixed with increasingly good navigation techniques-was becoming a prized jewel to the outside world."

He paused and his second hand came up, dropping little bits of metal which fell to the stonework with a sound not unlike falling rain. "And so the war came," he said. "The Five Scholars split, joining sides. Some kingdoms gained the power of Lifeless when others did not. Some kingdoms had weapons others could only envy.

"To answer the G.o.d's question, my story claims one reason for the Manywar: the ability to create Lifeless so cheaply. Before the discovery of the single breath command, Lifeless took fifty Breaths to make. What good is a extra soldier-even a Lifeless one-if you can only gain one for every fifty people you already have? However, being able to create a Lifeless with a single Breath... one for one... that will double your troops. And half of them don't need to eat."

The metal stopped falling.

"Lifeless are not stronger than regular men," Hoid said. "They are the same. They are not more skilled than regular men. They are the same. However, not having to eat like regular men? That advantage was enormous."

"And the royal family," Siri said. "They split away because they didn't agree with what Klad was doing. They saw moral problems with using Lifeless?"

The storyteller hesitated. "Why, yes," he finally said, smiling through his beard. "Yes, they did, your majesty."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Psst," Lightsong said, leaning in. "He's lying to you."

"Your grace," the storyteller said, bowing deeply. "There are diverging explanations! Why, I am a teller of stories-all stories."

"And what do other stories say?" Siri asked.

"None of them agree, your majesty," Hoid said. "Your people speak of religious indignation and treachery by Klad the Usurper. The Pahn Kahl people tell of the Royal family working too hard to gain powerful Lifeless and Awakeners, then being surprised when their tools turned against them. In Hallandren, they tell of the Royal family aligning themselves with Klad, making him their general and ignoring the will of the people by seeking war with a bloodl.u.s.t."

He looked up, and then began to trail two handfuls of black, burned charcoal. "But time burns away behind us, leaving only ash and memory. That memory pa.s.ses from mind to mind, then finally to my lips. When all is truth, and all are lies, does it matter if some say the Royal family sought to create Lifeless? Your belief is your own."

"Either way, the Returned took control of Hallandren," she said.

"Yes," Hoid said. "And they gave it a new name, transformed from the old one. And yet, some speak still of the Royals who left, bearing the blood of the First Returned to their highlands."

Siri frowned. "Blood of the First Returned?"

"Yes, of course," Hoid said. "It was his wife, pregnant with his child, who became the first queen of this land. You are his descendant."

She sat back.

Lightsong turned, curious. "You didn't know this?" he asked, voice lacking most of its normal flippancy.

She shook her head. "If this thing is known to my people, we do not speak of it."

Lightsong seemed to find that interesting. Down below, the priests were moving on to a different topic-something about security in the city and increasing patrols in the slums.

She smiled, sensing a covert method of getting to the questions she really wanted to ask. "That means that the G.o.d Kings of Hallandren continued on without the blood of the First Returned."

"Yes, your majesty," Hoid said, crumbling clay out into the air before him.

"And how many G.o.d Kings have there been?"

"Five, your majesty," the man said. "Including his grace, Lord Susebron, but not including Peacegiver."

"Five kings," she said. "In three hundred years?"

"Yes, your majesty," Hoid said, bringing out a handful of golden dust, letting it fall before him. "The kings of Hallandren were founded at the conclusion of the Manywar, the first one gaining his Breath and life from Peacegiver himself. Since that day, each G.o.d King has given birth to a stillborn son who then Returned and took his place."

Siri leaned forward. "Wait. How did Peacegiver create a new G.o.d King?"

"Ah," Hoid said, switching back to sand with his left hand. "Now there is a story lost in time. How indeed? Breath can be pa.s.sed from one man to another, but Breath-no matter how much-does not make one a G.o.d. Legends say that Peacegiver died by granting his Breath to his successor. After all, can a G.o.d not give his life away to bless another?"

"Not exactly a sign of mental stability, in my opinion," Lightsong said, waving for some more grapes. "You don't encourage me to have confidence in our predecessors, storyteller. Besides, if a G.o.d gives away his Breath, it doesn't turn the recipient into a G.o.d."

"I speak only stories, your grace," Hoid said. "They may be truths, they may be falsehoods. All I know is that the stories themselves exist and that I must tell them."

With as much flair as possible, Siri thought, watching him reach into yet another pocket and pull free a handful of small bits of gra.s.s and earth. He let bits fall slowly between his fingers.

"I speak of foundations, your grace," Hoid said. "Peacegiver was no ordinary Returned, for he managed to stop the Lifeless from rampaging. Indeed, he stole away the armies of the Hallandren-leaving his own people powerless-in an effort to bring peace. By then, of course, it was too late for Kuth and Huth. However, the other kingdoms-Pahn Kahl, Tedradel, Gys, and Hallandren itself-were brought out of the conflict.

"Why can we not a.s.sume more from this G.o.d of G.o.ds who was able to accomplish so much? Perhaps he did do something special, as the priests claim. Leave some seed within the G.o.d Kings of Hallandren, allowing them to pa.s.s their power from father to son."

Which claim would give them a heritage of divinity, Siri thought idly slipping a sliced grape into her mouth. And that would give them a reason to rule. With the G.o.d of G.o.ds as their progenitor, they could become G.o.d Kings. And the only one who could threaten them would be...

The Royal family of Idris, who can apparently trace their line back to the First Returned. Another heritage of divinity, a challenger for right of rule in Hallandren.

That didn't tell her how the G.o.d Kings had died. Nor did it tell her why some G.o.ds-such as the First Returned-could bear children, while others could not.

"They're immortal, right?" Siri asked.

Hoid nodded, smoothly dropping the rest of his gra.s.s and dirt, moving into a different discussion by bringing forward a handful of white powder. "Indeed, your majesty. Like all Returned, the G.o.d Kings do not age. Agelessness is a gift for all who reach the Fifth Heightening. "

"But why have there been five G.o.d Kings?" she asked. "Why did the first one die?"

"Why do any Returned pa.s.s on, your majesty?" Hoid asked.

"Because they are loony," Lightsong said.

The storyteller smiled. "Because they tire. G.o.ds are not like regular men. They come back for us, not for themselves, and when they can no longer endure life, they pa.s.s on. G.o.d Kings live only as long as it takes them to produce an heir."

Siri started. "That's commonly known?" she asked, then cringed slightly at the suspicious comment.

"Of course it is, your majesty," the storyteller said. "At least, to storytellers and scholars. Each G.o.d King has pa.s.sed from this world shortly after his son and heir was born. It is natural. Once the heir has arrived, the G.o.d King grown restless. Each one has sought out an opportunity to use up his Breath. And then..."

He threw up a hand, snapping his fingers, throwing up a little spray of water which puffed to mist.

"And then they pa.s.s on," he said. "Leaving their people blessed and their heir to rule."

The group fell silent, the mist evaporating in front of Hoid.

"Not exactly the most charming thing to inform a newlywed wife, storyteller," Lightsong noted. "That her husband is going to grow bored with life as soon as she bears him a son?"

"I seek not to be charming, your grace," Hoid said, bowing. At his feet, the various dusts, sands, and glitters mixed together in the faint breeze. "I only tell stories. This one is known to most. I should think that her majesty would like to be aware of it as well."

"Thank you," Siri said quietly. "It was good of you to speak of it. Tell me, where did you lean such an... interesting method of storytelling?"

Hoid looked up, smiling. "I learned it many, many years ago from a man who didn't know who he was, your majesty. It was a distant place where two lands meet and G.o.ds have died. But that is unimportant."

Siri ascribed the vague words to Hoid's desire to create for himself a mysterious past. Of far more interest to her was what he'd said about the G.o.d Kings' deaths.

So there is an official explanation, she thought, stomach twisting. And it's actually a pretty good one. Theologically, it makes sense that the G.o.d Kings would leave once they had someone else to take over for them.

But, that doesn't explain how Peacegiver's Treasure-that wealth of Breath-pa.s.ses from G.o.d King to G.o.d King when they have no tongues. And, it doesn't explain why a man like Susebron would get tired of life when he seems so excited by it.

The official story would work fine for those who didn't know the G.o.d King. It fell flat for Siri. Susebron would not do such a thing. Not now.

Yet... Would things change if she bore him a son? Would Susebron grow tired of her that easily?

"Maybe we should be hoping for old Susebron to pa.s.s, my queen," Lightsong said idly, picking at the grapes. "You were forced into this all, I suspect. If Susebron died, you might even be able to go home. No harm done, people healed, new heir on the throne. Everyone is either happy or dead."

The priests continued to argue below. Hoid continued to bow, waiting for dismissal.

Happy... or dead. Her stomach twisted. "Excuse me," she said, rising. "I would like to walk about a bit. Thank you for your storytelling, Hoid."

With that-entourage in tow-she quickly left the pavilion, worried that Lightsong might see her tears.

Chapter Thirty-Three.

Jewels worked quietly, ignoring Vivenna and pulling another st.i.tch tight. Clod's guts-intestines, stomach, and some other things Vivenna didn't want to identify-lay on the floor beside him, carefully pulled out and arranged so that they could be st.i.tched. Jewels was working on the intestines at the moment, sewing with a thread and needle.

It was gruesome. And yet it didn't really affect Vivenna. Not after the shock she'd had earlier. They were in the safe house. Tonk Fah had gone to scout the regular house to see if Parlin was all right. Denth was downstairs, fetching something.

Vivenna sat on the floor. She'd changed to a long dress-her skirt had muddy from its time in the mud-and sat with legs pulled up against her chest. Jewels continued to ignore Vivenna, working atop a sheet on the floor. She was muttering to herself, still angry.

"Stupid thing," Jewels said under her breath. "Can't believe we let you get hurt like this just to protect her."

Hurt. Did that even mean anything to a creature like Clod? He was awake; she could see that his eyes were open. What was the point of sewing up his insides? Would they heal? He didn't need to eat. Why bother with intestines? Vivenna shivered, looking away. She felt, in a way, as if her own insides had been ripped out. Exposed. Shown for the world to see.

Vivenna closed her eyes. Hours later, and she was still shaking from the terror of huddling in that alleyway, thinking that she'd soon be killed. What had she proven to be when finally threatened? Modesty had meant nothing-she'd pulled of her skirt rather than let it trip her again. Her hair had meant nothing-she'd ignored it as soon as the danger arrived.

Her religion, apparently, meant nothing. Not that she'd been able to use the Breath-she hadn't even managed to commit blasphemy correctly.

"I'm half tempted to just leave," Jewels muttered. "You and I. Go away."

Clod began to shuffle, and Vivenna opened her eyes to see him trying to stand up, even though his insides were hanging out.

Jewels swore. "Sit back down," she hissed, barely audible. "Colors-cursed thing. Howl of the sun. Go inactive. Howl of the sun."

Vivenna watched as Clod laid down then stopped moving. They might obey commands, she thought. But they aren't very smart. It tried to walk out, obeying Jewels' perceived Command to 'go away.' And what was that nonsense Jewels had said about the sun?