Warbreaker (43 page)

“You want some work commissioned?” the forger closest to her asked, just loudly enough that Vivenna could hear. It almost seemed part of his conversation with his friends.

“Yes,” she said.

“It costs.”

“I can pay.”

“You’re the princess everyone is talking about?”

She paused, noticing Denth’s hand leisurely going to his sword hilt.

“Yes,” she said.

“Good,” the forger said. “Royalty always seems to know how to handle itself. What is it you desire?”

“Letters,” Vivenna said. “I want them to appear as if they were between certain members of the Hallandren priesthood and the king of Idris. They need to have official seals and convincing signatures.”

“Difficult,” the man said.

Vivenna pulled something from her dress pocket. “I have a letter written in King Dedelin’s hand. It has his seal on the wax, his signature at the bottom.”

The man seemed intrigued, though she could only see the side of his face. “That makes it possible. Still hard. What do you want these documents to prove?”

“That these particular priests are corrupt,” Vivenna said. “I have a list on this sheet. I want you to make it look like they’ve been extorting Idris for years, forcing our king to pay outrageous sums and make extreme promises in order to prevent war. I want you to show that Idris doesn’t want war and that the priests are hypocrites.”

The man nodded. “Is that everything?”

“Yes.”

“It can be done. We’ll be in touch. Instructions and explanations are on the back of the paper?”

“As requested,” Vivenna said.

The group of men stood, a servant moving forward to pack up their lunch. As he did so, he let a napkin blow in the wind, then rushed over and picked it up, grabbing Vivenna’s paper too. Soon, all of them were gone.

“Well?” Vivenna asked, looking up.

“Good,” Denth said, nodding to himself. “You’re becoming an expert.”

Vivenna smiled, settling back on her blanket to wait. The next appointment consisted of a group of thieves who had stolen—at Vivenna and Denth’s request—various goods from the war offices in the Hallandren bureaucratic building. The documents were of relatively little import themselves, but their absence would cause confusion and frustration.

That appointment wasn’t for a few hours, which meant she could enjoy some time relaxing on the lawn, away from the unnatural colors of the city. Denth seemed to sense her inclination, and he sat down, leaning back against the side of the statue’s bare pedestal. As Vivenna waited, she saw that Parlin was over talking to Jewels again. Denth was right; though his clothing looked ridiculous to her, that was because she
knew
him as an Idrian. Looking at him more objectively, she saw that he fit in remarkably well with other young men in the city.

That’s well and good for him
, Vivenna thought with annoyance, looking away.
He can dress as he wishes—he doesn’t have to worry about his neckline or hemline.

Jewels laughed. It was almost a snort of derision, but there was
some
mirth in it. Vivenna looked back immediately, watching Jewels roll her eyes at Parlin, a self-effacing smirk on his face. He knew he’d said something wrong. He didn’t know what. Vivenna knew him well enough to read the expression and to know that he’d just smile and go along with it.

Jewels saw his face, then laughed again.

Vivenna gritted her teeth. “I should send him back to Idris,” she said.

Denth turned, looking down at her. “Hum?”

“Parlin,” she said. “I sent my other guides back. I should have sent him too. He serves no function.”

“He’s quick at adapting to situations,” Denth said. “And he’s trustworthy. That’s good enough reason to keep him.”

“He’s a fool,” Vivenna said. “Has trouble understanding half of what goes on around him.”

“He’s not got the wit of a scholar, true, but he seems to instinctively know how to blend in. Besides, we can’t all be geniuses like you.”

She glanced at Denth. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Denth said, “that you shouldn’t let your hair change colors in public, Princess.”

Vivenna started, noticing that her hair had shifted from a still, calm black to the red of frustration.
Lord of Colors!
she thought.
I used to be so good at controlling that. What is happening to me?

“Don’t worry,” Denth said, settling back. “Jewels has no interest in your friend. I promise you.”

Vivenna snorted. “Parlin? Why should I care?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Denth said. “Maybe because you and he have been practically engaged since you were children?”

“That’s completely untrue,” Vivenna said. “I’ve been engaged to the God King since before my birth!”

“And your father always wished you could marry the son of his best friend instead,” Denth said. “At least, that’s what Parlin says.” He eyed her with a smirk.

“That boy talks too much.”

“Actually, he’s usually rather quiet,” Denth said. “You have to pry to get him to talk about himself. Either way, Jewels has other ties. So stop your worrying.”

“I’m not worried,” Vivenna said. “And I’m
not
interested in Parlin.”

“Of course not.”

Vivenna opened her mouth to object, but she noticed Tonk Fah wandering over, and didn’t want
him
to join this discussion as well. She snapped her jaw shut as the hefty mercenary arrived.

“Flood,” Tonk Fah said.

“Hum?” Denth asked.

“Rhymes with blood,” Tonk Fah said. “Now you can be poetic. Flood of Blood. It is a nice visual image. Far better than tastebud.”

“Ah, I see,” Denth said flatly. “Tonk Fah?”

“Yes?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Thanks.”

Vivenna stood up and began to walk through the statues, studying them—if only to escape having to watch Parlin and Jewels. Tonk Fah and Denth trailed along behind at a comfortable distance, keeping a watchful eye.

There was a beauty to the statues. They weren’t like the other kinds of art in T’Telir—flashy paintings, colorful buildings, exaggerated clothing. The D’Denir were solid blocks which had aged with dignity. The Hallandren, of course, did their best to destroy this with the scarves, hats, or other colorful bits they tied on the stone memorials. Fortunately, there were too many in this garden for all to be decorated.

They stood, as if on guard, somehow more solid than much of the city. Most stared up into the sky or looked straight ahead. Each one was different, each pose distinct, each face unique.
It must have taken decades to create all of these
, she thought.
Perhaps that’s where the Hallandren got their penchant for art.

Hallandren was such a place of contradictions. Warriors to represent peace. Idrians who exploited and protected each other at the same time. Mercenaries who seemed to be among the best men she had ever known. Bright colors that created a kind of uniformity.

And, over it all, BioChromatic Breath. It was exploitive, yet people like Jewels saw giving up their Breath as a privilege. Contradictions. The question was, could Vivenna afford to become another contradiction? A person who bent her beliefs in order to see that they were preserved?

The Breaths
were
wonderful. It was more than just the beauty or the ability to hear changes in sound and sense intrinsically the distinct hues of color. It was more even than the ability to sense life around her. More than the sounds of the wind and the tones of people talking, or her ability to feel her way through a group of people and move easily with the motions of a crowd.

It was a connection. The world around her felt
close
. Even inanimate things like her clothing or fallen twigs felt near to her. They were dead, yet seemed to yearn for life again.

She could give it to them. They remembered life and she could Awaken those memories. But what good would it do to save her people if she lost herself?

Denth doesn’t seem lost
, she thought.
He and the other mercenaries can separate what they believe from what they are forced to do.

In her opinion, that was why people regarded mercenaries as they did. If you divorced belief from action, then you were on dangerous ground.

No
, she thought.
No Awakening for me.

The Breath would remain untapped. If it tempted her too much further, she would give the lot away to somebody who had none.

And become a Drab herself.

Annotations for Chapter 28

Twenty-Nine

Annotations for Chapter 29

Tell me about the mountains
, Susebron wrote.

Siri smiled. “Mountains?”

Please
, he wrote, sitting in his chair beside the bed. Siri lay on one side; her bulky dress had been too hot for this evening, so she sat in her shift with a sheet over her, resting on one elbow so she could see what he wrote. The fire crackled.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” she said. “I mean, the mountains aren’t amazing like the wonders you have in T’Telir. You have so many colors, so much variety.”

I think that rocks sticking from the ground and rising thousands of feet into the air count as a wonder
, he wrote.

“I guess,” she said. “I liked it in Idris—I didn’t want to know anything else. For someone like you, though, it would probably be boring.”

More boring than sitting in the same palace every day, not allowed to leave, not allowed to speak, being dressed and pampered?

“Okay, you win.”

Tell me of them, please.
His handwriting was getting very good. Plus, the more he wrote, the more he seemed to understand. She wished so much that she could find him books to read—she suspected that he’d absorb them quickly, becoming as learned as any of the scholars who had tried to tutor her.

And yet, all he had was Siri. He seemed to appreciate what she gave him— but that was probably only because he didn’t know just how ignorant she was.
I suspect
, she thought,
that my tutors would laugh themselves silly if they knew how much I’d come to regret ignoring them.

“The mountains are vast,” she said. “You can’t really get a sense of it here, in the lowlands. It’s by seeing them that you know just how insignificant people really are. I mean, no matter how long we worked and built, we could never pile up
anything
as high as one of the mountains.

“They’re rocks, like you said, but they’re not lifeless. They’re green—as green as your jungles. But it’s a different green. I heard some of the traveling merchants complain that the mountains cut off their view, but I think you can see
more
. They let you see the surface of the land as it extends upward, toward Austre’s domain in the sky.”

He paused.
Austre?

Siri flushed, hair blushing as well. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t talk about other gods in front of you.”

Other gods?
he wrote.
Like those in the court?

“No,” Siri said. “Austre is the Idrian god.”

I understand
, Susebron wrote.
Is he very handsome?

Siri laughed. “No, you don’t understand. He’s not a Returned, like you or Lightsong. He’s...well, I don’t know. Didn’t the priests mention other religions to you?”

Other religions?
he wrote.

“Sure,” she said. “I mean, not everybody worships the Returned. The Idrians like me worship Austre, and the Pahn Kahl people—like Bluefingers...well, I don’t actually know what they worship, but it’s not you.”

That is very strange to consider
, he wrote.
If your gods are not Returned, then what are they?

“Not they,” Siri said. “Just one. We call him Austre. The Hallandren used to worship him too before...” She almost said before they became heretics. “Before Peacegiver arrived, and they decided to worship the Returned instead.”

But who is this Austre?
he wrote.

“He’s not a person,” Siri said. “He’s more of a force. You know, the thing that watches over all people, who punishes those who don’t do what is right and who blesses those who are worthy.”

Have you met this creature?

Siri laughed. “Of course not. You can’t see Austre.”

Susebron frowned, looking at her.

“I know,” she said. “It must seem silly to you. But, well, we know he’s there. When I see something beautiful in nature—when I look at the mountains, with their wildflowers growing in patterns that are somehow more
right
than a man could have planted—I know. Beauty is real. That’s what reminds me of Austre. Plus, we’ve got the Returned—including the first Returned, Vo. He had the five Visions before he died, and they
must
have come from somewhere.”

But you don’t believe in worshiping the Returned?

Siri shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet. My people teach strongly against it. They’re not fond of the way that the Hallandren understand religion.”

He sat quietly for a long moment.

So...you do not like those such as me?

“What? Of course I like you! You’re sweet!”

He frowned, writing.
I don’t think God Kings are supposed to be “sweet.”

“fine, then,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’re terrible and mighty. Awesome and deific. And sweet.”

Much better
, he wrote, smiling.
I should very much like to meet this Austre.

“I’ll introduce you to some monks sometime,” Siri said. “They should be able to help you with that.”

Now you are mocking me.

Siri smiled as he looked up at her. There was no hurt in his eyes. He didn’t appear to mind being mocked; indeed, he seemed to find it very interesting. He particularly liked trying to pick out when she was being serious and when she wasn’t.

He looked down again.
More than meeting with this god, however, I should like to see the mountains. You seem to love them very much.

“I do,” Siri said. It had been a long time since she’d thought of Idris. But as he mentioned it, she remembered the cool, open feeling of the meadows she had run through not so long ago. The crispness of the chilly air— something that she suspected one could never find in Hallandren.