Warbreaker Part 53

Chapter Forty-Three.

Vivenna awoke, sick, tired, thirsty, starving.

But alive.

She opened her eyes, feeling a strange sensation. Comfort. She was in a comfortable plush bed. She sat up immediately; her head spun.

"I'd be careful," a voice said. "Your body is weak."

She blinked fuzzy eyes, focusing on a figure sitting at a table a short distance away, his back to her. He appeared to be eating.

A black sword in a silver sheath rested against the table.

"You," she whispered.

"Me," he said between bites.

She looked down at herself. She wasn't wearing her shift any more, but instead had on a set of soft cotton sleeping garments. Her body was clean. She raised a hand to her hair, feeling that the tangles and mats were gone. It was still white.

She felt so strange to be clean.

"Did you rape me?" she said quietly.

He snorted. "A woman who's been to Denth's bed holds no temptation for me."

"I never slept with him," she said, though she didn't know why she cared to tell him.

Vasher turned, face still wearing the patchy, unkempt beard. His clothing was far less fine than her own. He studied her eyes. "He had you fooled, didn't he?"

She nodded.

"Idiot."

She nodded again.

He turned back to his meal. "The woman who runs this building," he said. "I paid her to bathe you, dress you, and change your bedpan. I never touched you."

She frowned. "What... happened?"

"Do you remember the fight on the street?"

"With your sword?"

He nodded.

"Vaguely. You saved me."

"I kept a tool out of Denth's hands," he said. "That's all that really matters."

"Thank you anyway."

He was silent for a few moments. "You're welcome," he finally said.

"Why do I feel so... ?"

"Tramaria," the man said. "It's a sickness, one you don't have in the highlands. Insect bites spread it. You probably got it a few weeks before I found you. It stays with you, if you're weak."

She put a hand to her head.

"You probably had a pretty bad time lately," Vasher noted. "What with the dizziness, the dementia, and the hunger."

"Yes," she said.

"You deserved it." He continued to eat.

She didn't move for a long moment. His food smelled so good, but she'd apparently been fed on broth while she slept, for she wasn't as famished as she might have thought. Just mildly hungry. "How long was I unconscious?" she asked.

"A week," he said. "You should sleep some more."

"What are you going to do with me?"

He didn't reply. "The BioChromatic Breaths you had," he said. "You gave them to Denth?"

She paused, thinking. "Yes."

He glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.

"No," she admitted, looking away. "I put them in the shawl I was wearing."

He stood, leaving the room. She considered running. Instead, she moved over and began to eat at his food-a fish, whole and fried. Seafood didn't bother her anymore.

He returned, then stopped in the doorway, watching her ravage the fish bones. He didn't force her out of the seat; he simply took the other chair at the table. Finally, he held up the shawl, washed and clean.

"This?" he asked.

She froze, a bit of fish on her cheek.

He set the shawl on the table beside her.

"You're giving it back to me?" she asked.

He shrugged. "If there really is Breath stored in it, I can't get to it. Only you can."

She picked it up. "I don't know the Command."

He raised an eyebrow. "You escaped those ropes of mine without Awakening them?"

She shook her head. "I guessed that Command."

"I should have gagged you better. What do you mean you 'guessed' it?"

"It was the first time I'd ever used Breath."

"That's right, you're of the Royal line."

"What does that mean?"

He just shook his head, pointing toward the shawl. "Your Breath to mine," he said. "That's the Command you want."

She laid her hand on the shawl and said the words. Immediately, everything changed.

Her dizziness went away. Her deadness to the world vanished. She gasped, shaking with the pleasure of Breath restored. It was so strong that she actually fell from the chair, quivering in wonder like a person having a fit. It was amazing. She could sense life. Could sense Vasher, making a pocket of color around him that was bright and beautiful. She was alive again.

She basked in that for a long moment.

"It's shocking, when you first get it," Vasher said. "It's usually not too bad if you take the Breath back after only an hour or so. Wait weeks, though, and it's like taking it in for the first time."

Smiling, feeling amazing, she climbed back into the seat and wiped the fish from her face. "My sickness is gone!"

"Of course," he said. "You've got enough Breath for at least the Third Heightening, if I'm reading you right. You'll never know sickness. You'll barely even age. a.s.suming you manage to hang onto the Breath, of course."

She looked up at him in a panic.

"No," he said. "I'm not going to force you to give it to me. Though I probably should. You're far more trouble than you're worth, Princess."

She turned back to the food, feeling more confident. It seemed as if the last few weeks had been a nightmare. A bubble, surreal, disconnected. Had it really been her who had sat on the street, begging? Had she really slept in the rain, lived in the mud? Had she really considered turning to prost.i.tution?

She had. She couldn't forget just because she now had Breath again. And, truthfully, she couldn't help blaming her experience upon her becoming a Drab. Perhaps the sickness had a part in it too. However, the greatest part had been simple desperation.

"All right," he said, standing, picking up the black sword. "Time to go."

"Go where?" she asked, suspicious. The last time she had met this man, he'd bound her, forced her to touch that sword of hers, and left her gagged.

He ignored her concern, tossing a pile of clothing onto the table. "Put this on."

She picked through it. Thick trousers, a tunic that tucked into them, a vest to go over the tunic. All of various shades of blue. There were undergarments of a less bright color.

"That's a man's clothing," she said.

"It's utilitarian," Vasher said, walking toward the doorway. "I'm not going to waste money buying you rich dresses, princess. You'll just have to get used to those."

She opened her mouth, but then shut it, discarding her complaint. She'd just spent... she didn't know how long running around in a thin, nearly-translucent shift that had only covered her to mid thigh. She took the trousers and shirts thankfully.

"Please," she said, turning toward him. "I appreciate this clothing. But can I at least know where you intend to do with me?"

Vasher hesitated in the doorway. "I have work for you to do."

She shivered, thinking of the bodies Denth had shown her, and of the men Vasher had killed. "You're going to kill again, aren't you?"

He turned back toward her, frowning. "Denth is working toward something. I'm going to block him."

"Denth was working for me," she said. "Or, at least, he was pretending to. All of those things he did, they were at my command. He was just playing along to keep me complacent."

Vasher laughed a barking laugh, and Vivenna flushed. Her hair-responding to her mood for the first time since her shock at seeing Parlin dead-turned red.

It felt so surreal. Two weeks on the street and now, suddenly, fed she felt like her old self again? It was the Breath. The beautiful, wonderful Breath. She never wanted to be parted from it again.

Not her old self at all. Who was she, then? Did it matter?

"You laugh at me," she said, turning to Vasher. "But I was just doing the best I could. I wanted to help my people in the upcoming war. Fight against Hallandren."

"Hallandren isn't your enemy."

"It is," she said sharply. "And it is planning to march on my people."

"The priests have good reasons for acting like they do."

Vivenna snorted. "Denth said that every man thinks he'd doing the right thing, in his head."

"Denth is too smart for his own good. He was playing with you, princess."

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't it ever occur to you?" Vasher asked. "Attacking supply caravans? Rousing the Idris poor to rebel? Reminding them of Vahr and his promises of freedom, which were so fresh in their minds. Showing yourself to thug lords, making them think that Idris was working to undermine the Hallandren government? Princess, you say every man thinks he's on the right side, that every man who opposed you was deluding himself."

He met her eyes. "Didn't you ever once stop to think that maybe you were the one on the wrong side?"

Vivenna froze.

"Denth wasn't working for you," Vasher said. "He wasn't even pretending to. Someone in this city hired him to start a war between Idris and Hallandren, and he's spent these last few months using you to make it happen. I'm trying to figure out why. Who's behind it, and why would a war serve them?"

Vivenna sat back, eyes wide. It couldn't be. He had to be wrong.

"You were the perfect p.a.w.n," Vasher said. "You reminded the people in the slums of their true heritage, giving Denth someone to rally behind. The Court of G.o.ds is a hair's breadth away from marching on your homeland. Not because they hate Idrians, but because they feel like Idris insurgents have already been attacking them."

He shook his head. "I couldn't believe that you didn't realize what you were doing. I a.s.sumed you had to be working with him intentionally to start the war." He eyed her. "I underestimated your stupidity. Get dressed. I don't know if we have enough time to undo what you've done, but I intend to try."

The clothing felt strange. The trousers pulled at her thighs, making her feel like she was exposed. It was odd not to have the swishing of skirts by her ankles.

She walked beside Vasher without comment, head bowed, hair too short to even put into a braid. They pa.s.sed through the Idris slum, and Vivenna had to fight to keep herself from jumping at every sound, looking over her shoulder to see if someone were following her.

Was that an urchin wanting to steal the money she'd begged? Was that a group of thugs, wishing to sell her to Denth? Were those shadows grey-eyed Lifeless, come to attack and slaughter? They pa.s.sed a waif beside the road, a young woman of indeterminable age but with a soot-covered face and bright eyes that watched them. Vivenna could read the hunger in those eyes. The woman was trying to decide whether or not to try stealing from them.