Warbreaker (Warbreaker #1)(141)

It was wasteful to the point of extravagance, but it was also wondrous. It bespoke a lifestyle that her people back in Idris couldn’t even imagine, one representative of an uncomfortable imbalance in the world. Some people starved; others were so wealthy that they never even saw most meals that were made for them.

The servants set only one chair at the table. Siri watched as they brought in plate after plate. They couldn’t know what the God King wanted, so they apparently brought him some of everything. They filled the table, then retreated as Susebron pointed for them to go.

The scents were almost too much for Siri in her hungered state. She waited, tense, until the door closed. Then she threw off the sheets and rushed over. She had thought the meals prepared for her were extravagant, but they were nothing compared with this feast. Susebron gestured toward the chair.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked.

He shrugged.

She walked over and took one of the blankets from the bed, then spread it on the stone floor. “What looks good to you?” she said, approaching the table.

He pointed at the plate of simmering mussels and several of the breads. She moved these, along with a dish that didn’t appear to have any fish in it—a bowl of exotic fruits tossed in some kind of creamy sauce—to the cloth. She then sat down and began eating.

Susebron carefully situated himself on the floor. He managed to look dig nified even when wearing only his undergown. Siri reached over and handed him his board.

This is very odd, he said.

“What?” she asked. “Eating on the floor?”

He nodded. Dining is such a production for me. I eat some of what is on a plate, then servants pull it away, wipe my face, and bring me another one. I never finish an entire dish, even if I like it.

Siri snorted. “I’m surprised they don’t hold the spoon for you.”

They did when I was younger, Susebron wrote, flushing. I eventually got them to let me do it myself. It’s hard, when you can’t speak with anyone.

“I can imagine,” Siri said between mouthfuls. She eyed Susebron, who ate with small, reserved bites. She felt a slight stab of shame at how fast she was eating, then decided she didn’t care. She put aside the fruit dish and fetched several pastries from the table.

Susebron eyed her as she began to eat one after another. Those are Pahn Kahl tinkfans, he wrote. One takes only small bites, making sure to eat a piece of bread between to clear away the taste. They are a delicacy and—

He broke off as Siri picked up an entire pastry and shoved it into her mouth. She smiled at him, then continued chewing.

After a moment of looking stunned, he wrote on his board again. You realize that children in the stories who gorged themselves usually ended up being thrown off of cliffs?

Siri stuffed another crispbread into her mouth beside the first, dusting her fingers and face with powdered sugar in the process, her cheeks bulging.

Susebron watched her, then reached over and took a whole one himself. He inspected it, then shoved it into his mouth.

Siri laughed, nearly spitting out bits of pastry onto the blanket. “And so my corruption of the God King continues,” she said once she could speak.

He smiled. This is very curious, he wrote, eating another crispbread. Then another. Then another.

Siri watched him, raising an eyebrow. “One would think that as God King, you would at least be able to eat sweets whenever you want.”

I have many rules that others need not follow, he wrote as he chewed. The stories explained this. Much is required of a prince or a king. I would rather have been born a peasant.

Siri raised an eyebrow. She had a feeling that he’d be surprised if he actually had to experience things like hunger, poverty, or even discomfort. However, she left him his illusions. Who was she to chastise?

You are the one who was hungry, he wrote. But I am the one doing all the eating!

“They obviously don’t feed you enough,” Siri said, trying a slice of bread.

He shrugged, continuing to eat. She watched him, wondering if eating was different for him, with no tongue. Did that affect his ability to taste? He certainly still seemed to like the sweets. Thinking of her tongue made her mind turn to darker topics. We can’t just keep going on like this, she thought. Playing around at night, pretending like the world isn’t going on without us. We’re going to get crushed.

“Susebron,” she said. “I think we need to find a way to expose what your priests have been doing to you.”

He looked up, then wrote, What do you mean?

“I mean that we should have you try to talk to the common people,” she said. “Or maybe some of the other gods. The priests gain all of their power by associating with you. If you choose to communicate through someone else, it would overthrow them.”

Do we need to do that?

“Pretend with me for a moment that we do,” she said.

Very well, he wrote. But how, exactly, would I communicate with someone else? I can’t exactly stand up and begin shouting.

“I don’t know. Notes, perhaps?”

He smiled. There is a story about that in my book. A princess trapped in a tower who throws notes out into the ocean waters. The king of the fishes finds them.

“I doubt the king of fishes cares about our predicament,” Siri said flatly.

Such a creature is only slightly less fantastic than the possibility of my notes being found and interpreted correctly. If I threw them out the window, nobody would believe that the God King had written them.