Warbreaker (Warbreaker #1)(134)

“I’m not sure,” Bluefingers admitted. “There are stories, spoken of by my people regarding the last God King’s death. They say that the plague he cured—well, he wasn’t even in the city when the ‘curing’ happened. My suspicion is that they somehow coerced him to give up his Breaths to his son and that killed him.”

He doesn’t know, Siri thought. He doesn’t realize that Susebron is a mute. “How closely have you served the God King?”

He shrugged. “As close as any servant considered unholy. I’m not allowed to touch him or speak to him. But, Princess, I’ve served him all my life. He’s not my god, but he’s something better. I think these priests look upon their gods as placeholders. It doesn’t really matter to them who is holding the station. Me, I’ve served His Majesty for my entire life. I was hired by the palace as a lad and I remember Susebron’s childhood. I cleaned his quarters. He’s not my god, but he is my liege. And now these priests are planning to kill him.”

He turned back to his pacing, wringing his hands. “But there’s nothing to be done.”

“Yes, there is,” she said.

He waved a hand. “I gave you a warning and you ignored it. I know that you’ve been performing your duties as a wife. Perhaps we could find some way of making certain that no pregnancy of yours comes to term.”

Siri flushed. “I would never do such a thing! Austre forbids it.”

“Even to save the life of the God King? But . . . of course. What is he to you? Your captor and imprisoner. Yes. Perhaps my warnings were useless.”

“I do care, Bluefingers,” she said. “And I think we can stop this before it gets to the point of worrying about an heir. I’ve been talking to the God King.”

Bluefingers froze, looking directly at her. “What?”

“I’ve been talking to him,” Siri admitted. “He’s not as heartless as you might think. I don’t think this has to end with him dying or your people losing their places in the palace.”

Bluefingers studied her, staring at her to the point that she flushed again, ducking further down into the water.

“I see that you’ve found yourself a position of power,” he noted.

Or, at least, one that looks powerful, she thought ruefully. “If things turn out as I want them to, I’ll make certain your people are cared for.”



“And my side of the bargain?” he asked.

“If things don’t turn out as I want them to,” she said, taking a deep breath, heart fluttering, “I want you to get Susebron and me out of the palace.”

Silence.

“Deal,” he said. “But let us make certain it does not come to that. Is the God King aware of the danger from his own priests?”

“He is,” Siri lied. “In fact, he knew about it before I did. He’s the one who told me I needed to contact you.”

“He did?” Bluefingers asked, frowning slightly.

“Yes,” Siri said. “I will be in touch on how to make this turn out well for all of us. And, until then, I would appreciate it if you’d let me get back to my bath.”

Bluefingers nodded slowly, then retreated from the bathing chamber. Siri, however, found it hard to still her nerves. She wasn’t certain if she’d handled the exchange well or not. She seemed to have gained something. Now she just had to figure out how to use it.

35

Vivenna awoke sore, tired, and terrified. She tried struggling, but her hands and legs were tied. She succeeded only in rolling herself into an even less comfortable position.

She was in a dark room, gagged, her face pressing awkwardly against a splintering wood floor. She still wore her skirt, an expensive foreign one like those that Denth complained about. Her hands were tied behind her.

Someone was in the room with her. Someone with a lot of Breath. She could feel it without even trying. She twisted, rolling onto her back in an awkward motion. She could see a figure silhouetted against a starlit sky, standing on a balcony a short distance away.

It was him.

He turned toward her, face shadowed in the unlit room, and she began to squirm with panic. What was this man planning to do with her? Horrible possibilities leaped to mind.

The man walked toward her, feet thumping roughly on the floor, the wood shaking. He knelt down, pulling her head up by the hair. “I’m still deciding whether or not to kill you, Princess,” he said. “If I were you, I’d avoid doing anything more to antagonize me.”

His voice was deep, thick, and had an accent she couldn’t place. She froze in his grip, trembling, hair bleached white. He appeared to be studying her, eyes reflecting starlight. He dropped her back to the wooden floor.

She groaned through the gag as he lit a lantern, then pushed the balcony doors closed. He reached to his belt and removed a large hunting dagger. Vivenna felt a stab of fear, but he simply walked over and cut the bonds on her hands.

He tossed the dagger aside, and it made a thock as it stuck into the wood of the far wall. He reached for something on the bed. His large, black-hilted sword.

Vivenna scrambled back, hands free, and pulled at her gag, intending to scream. He whipped the scabbarded sword toward her, making her freeze.

“You will remain quiet,” he said sharply.

She huddled back into the corner. How is this happening to me? she thought. Why hadn’t she fled back to Idris long ago? She’d been deeply unsettled when Denth had killed the ruffians in the restaurant. She’d known then that she was dealing with people and situations that were truly dangerous.