Warbreaker (Warbreaker #1)(103)

The high priest looked apologetically at Siri. For the first time, she realized that the overweight priest’s disapproval wasn’t directed at her, but at his god. To her, he smiled.

Maybe they’re not all like Treledees, she thought, smiling back.

“The God King’s sacrifice was not an empty gesture, Vessel,” the priest said. “True, diarrhea may not be a great danger to most, but to the elderly and the young it can be quite deadly. Plus, the epidemic conditions were spreading other diseases, and the city’s commerce—and therefore the kingdom’s—had slowed to a crawl. People in outlying villages went months without necessary supplies.”

“I wonder how those who were cured felt,” Lightsong said musingly, “waking to find their God King dead.”

“One would think they’d be honored, Your Grace.”

“I think they’d be annoyed. The king came all that way, and they were too sick to notice. Anyway, my queen, there you go. That was actually helpful information. You now have me worried that I’ve broken my promise to you about being useless.”

“If it’s any consolation,” she said, “you weren’t all that helpful yourself. It’s your priest who actually seems useful.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve tried for years to corrupt him. Never seems to work. I can’t even get him to acknowledge the theological paradox it causes when I try to tempt him to do evil.”

Siri paused, then found herself smiling even more broadly.

“What?” Lightsong asked, then finished off the last of his drink. It was immediately replaced by another, this one blue.

“Talking to you is like swimming in a river,” she said. “I keep getting pulled along with the current and I’m never sure when I’ll be able to take another breath.”

“Watch out for the rocks, Vessel,” the high priest noted. “They look rather insignificant, but have sharp edges under the surface.”

“Bah,” Lightsong said. “It’s the crocodiles you have to watch for. They can bite. And . . . what exactly were we talking about, anyway?”

“The God Kings,” Siri said. “When the last one died, an heir had already been produced?”

“Indeed,” the high priest said. “In fact, he had just been married the year before. The child was born only weeks before he died.”

Siri sat back in her chair, thoughtful. “And the God King before him?”

“Died to heal the children of a village which had been attacked by bandits,” Lightsong said. “The commoners love the story. The king was so moved by their suffering that he gave himself up for the simple people.”

“And had he been married the year before?”

“No, Vessel,” the high priest said. “It was several years after his marriage. Though, he did die only a month after his second child was born.”

Siri looked up. “Was the first child a daughter?”

“Yes,” the priest said. “A woman of no divine powers. How did you know?”

Colors! Siri thought. Both times, right after the heir was born. Did having a child somehow make the God Kings wish to give their lives away? Or was it something more sinister? A cured plague or healed village were both things that, with a little creative propaganda, could be invented to cover up some other cause of death.



“I’m not truly an expert on these things, I’m afraid, Vessel,” the high priest continued. “And, I’m afraid that Lord Lightsong is not either. If you press him, he could very well just start making things up.”

“Scoot!” Lightsong said indignantly. “That’s slanderous. Oh, and by the way, your hat is on fire.”

“Thank you,” Siri said. “Both of you. This has actually been rather helpful.”

“If I might suggest . . .” the high priest said.

“Please,” she replied.

“Try a professional storyteller, Vessel,” the priest said. “You can order one in from the city, and he can recite both histories and tales of imagination to you. They will provide much better information than we can.”

Siri nodded. Why can’t the priests in our palace be this helpful? Of course, if they really were covering up the true reason their God Kings died, they had good reason to avoid helping her. In fact, it was likely that if she asked for a storyteller, they would just provide one who would tell her what they wanted her to hear.

She frowned. “Could . . . you do that for me, Lightsong?”

“What?”

“Order in a storyteller,” she said. “I should like you to be there, in case I have any questions.”

Lightsong shrugged. “I guess I could. Haven’t heard a storyteller in some time. Just let me know when.”

It wasn’t a perfect plan. Her servants were listening and they might report to the priests. However, if the storyteller came to Lightsong’s palace, there was at least some chance of Siri hearing the truth.

“Thank you,” she said, rising.

“Ah, ah, ah! Not so fast,” Lightsong said, raising a finger.

She stopped.

He drank from his cup.

“Well?” she finally asked.

He held up the finger again as he continued to drink, tipping his head back, getting the last bits of slushy ice from the bottom of the cup. He set it aside, mouth blue. “How refreshing. Idris. Wonderful place. Lots of ice. Costs quite a bit to bring it here, so I’ve heard. Good thing I don’t ever have to pay for anything, eh?”