Warbreaker (Warbreaker #1)(107)

He paused, then met her eyes. “In a way, we’re the most honest men you’ll ever meet.”

The two of them fell silent, the crowd passing by just a short distance away, a river of flashing colors. Another figure approached the table. “That’s right,” Tonk Fah said, “but, you forgot to mention that in addition to being honest, we’re also clever. And handsome.”

“Those both go without saying,” Denth said.

Vivenna turned. Tonk Fah had been watching from nearby, ready to provide backup. They were letting her start to take the lead in some of the meetings. “Honest, perhaps,” Vivenna said. “But I certainly hope that you’re not the most handsome men I’ll ever meet. Are we ready to go?”

“Assuming you’re finished with your juice,” Denth said, smirking at her.

Vivenna glanced at her cup. It was very good. Feeling guilty, she drained the juice. It would be a sin to waste it, she thought. Then she rose and swished her way from the building, leaving Denth—who now handled most of the coins—to settle the bill. Outside on the street, they were joined by Clod, who’d been given orders to come if she screamed for help.

She turned, looking back at Tonk Fah and Denth. “Tonks,” she said. “Where’s your monkey?”

He sighed. “Monkeys are boring anyway.”

She rolled her eyes. “You lost another one?”

Denth chuckled. “Get used to it, Princess. Of all the happy miracles in the universe, one of the greatest is that Tonks has never fathered a child. He’d probably lose it before the week was out.”

She shook her head. “You may be right,” she said. “Next appointment. D’Denir garden, right?”

Denth nodded.

“Let’s go,” she said, walking down the street. The others trailed behind, picking up Parlin and Jewels on the way. Vivenna didn’t wait for Clod to force a way through the crowd. The less she depended on that Lifeless, the better. Moving through the streets really wasn’t that difficult. There was an art to it—one moved with a crowd, rather than trying to swim against its flow. It wasn’t long before, Vivenna at the front, the group turned off into the wide grassy field that was the D’Denir garden. Like the crossroads square, this place was an open space of green life set among the buildings and colors. Yet, here no flowers or trees broke the landscape, nor did people bustle about. This was a more reverent place.

And it was filled with statues. Hundreds of them. They looked much like the other D’Denir in the city—with their oversized bodies and heroic poses, many tied with colorful cloths or garments. These were some of the oldest statues she had seen, their stone weathered from years spent enduring the frequent T’Telir rainfalls. This group was the final gift from Peacegiver the Blessed. The statues had been made as a memorial to those who had died in the Manywar. A monument and a warning. So the legends said. Vivenna couldn’t help thinking that if the people really did honor those that had fallen, they wouldn’t dress the statues up in such ridiculous costumes.

Still, the place was far more serene than most in T’Telir, and she could appreciate that. She walked down the steps onto the lawn, wandering between the silent stone figures.

Denth moved up beside her. “Remember who we’re meeting?”

She nodded. “Forgers.”

Denth eyed her. “You all right with this?”

“Denth, during our months together I’ve met with thief lords, murderers, and—most frighteningly—mercenaries. I think I can deal with a couple of spindly scribes.”

Denth shook his head. “These are the men who sell the documents, not the scribes who do the work. You won’t meet more dangerous men than forgers. Within the Hallandren bureaucracy, they can make anything seem legal by putting the right documents in the right places.”



Vivenna nodded slowly.

“You remember what to have them make?” Denth asked.

“Of course I do,” she said. “This particular plan was my idea, remember?”

“Just checking,” he said.

“You’re worried that I’ll mess things up, aren’t you?”

He shrugged. “You’re the leader in this little dance, Princess. I’m just the guy who mops the floor afterward.” He eyed her. “I hate mopping up blood.”

“Oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes, walking faster and leaving him behind. As he fell back, she could hear him talking to Tonk Fah. “Bad metaphor?” Denth asked.

“Nah,” Tonk Fah said. “It had blood in it. That makes it a good meta phor.”

“I think it lacked poetic style.”

“Find something that rhymes with ‘blood’ then,” Tonk Fah suggested. He paused. “Mud? Thud? Uh . . . tastebud?”

They sure are literate, for a bunch of thugs, she thought.

She didn’t have to go far before she spotted the men. They waited beside the agreed meeting place—a large D’Denir with a weathered axe. The group of people were having a picnic and chatting among themselves, a picture of harmless innocence.

Vivenna slowed.

“That’s them,” Denth whispered. “Let’s go sit beside the D’Denir across from them.”

Jewels, Clod, and Parlin hung back while Tonk Fah strolled away to watch the perimeter. Vivenna and Denth approached the statue near the forgers. Denth spread out a blanket for her, then stood to the side, as if he were a manservant.