Warbreaker (Warbreaker #1)(146)

“A Lifeless rodent,” Blushweaver said. “That’s much better. I feel myself being swayed already.”

“The person who broke into Mercystar’s palace used this as a distraction,” Lightsong said. “Do you know anything about breaking Lifeless, my dear?”

She shrugged.

“I didn’t either,” Lightsong said. “Not until I required my priests to break this one. Apparently, it requires weeks to take control of a Lifeless for which you do not have the right security phrases. I’m not even sure how the process goes—has something to do with Breath and torture, apparently.”

“Torture?” she said. “Lifeless can’t feel.”

Lightsong shrugged. “Anyway, my servants broke this one for me. The stronger and more skilled the Awakener who created the Lifeless, the more difficult it is to break it.”

“That’s why we need to get the Commands from Allmother,” Blushweaver said. “If something were to happen to her, her ten thousand would become useless to us. It would take years to break that many Lifeless!”

“The God King and some of Allmother’s priestesses have the codes as well,” Lightsong said.

“Oh,” Blushweaver said, “and you think he is going to just give them over to us? Assuming we’re even allowed to talk to him?”

“I’m just pointing out that a single assassination couldn’t ruin our entire army,” Lightsong said, holding up the squirrel. “That’s not the point. The point is that whomever made this squirrel held quite a bit of Breath and knew what he was doing. The creature’s blood has been replaced with ichor-alcohol. The sutures are perfect. The Commands controlling the rodent were extremely strong. It’s a marvelous piece of BioChromatic art.”

“And?” she asked.

“And he released it in Mercystar’s palace,” Lightsong said. “Creating a distraction so that he could sneak into those tunnels. Someone else followed the intruder, and this second person killed a man to keep him from revealing what he’d seen. Whatever is in those tunnels—wherever they lead—it’s important enough to waste Breath on. Important enough to kill for.”

Blushweaver shook her head. “I still can’t believe you are even worrying about this.”

“You said you knew about the tunnels,” Lightsong said. “I had Llarimar ask around, and others know of them too. They’re used for storage beneath the palaces, as said. Different gods have ordered them constructed at various times during the history of the court.

“But,” he continued, excited, “they would also be the perfect place to set up a clandestine operation! The court is outside the jurisdiction of the regular city guards. Each palace is like a little, autonomous country! Expand a few of those cellars so that their tunnels connect with others, dig them out past the walls so that you can come and go secretly . . .”

“Lightsong,” Blushweaver said. “If something that secret were going on, then why would the priests use those tunnels to come into the court? Wouldn’t that be a little suspicious? I mean, if you noticed it, how hard could it be to discover?”

Lightsong paused, then flushed slightly. “Of course,” he said. “I got so wrapped up in pretending to be useful that I forgot myself! Thank you so much for reminding me that I am an idiot.”

“Lightsong, I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s quite all right,” he said, standing. “Why bother? I need to remember who I am. Lightsong, self-hating god. The most useless person ever granted immortality. Just answer one question for me.”

Blushweaver paused. “What question?”

“Why?” he asked, looking at her. “Why do I hate being a god? Why do I act so frivolous? Why do I undermine my own authority. Why?”

“I always assumed it was because you were amused by the contrast.”

“No,” he said. “Blushweaver, I was like this from the first day. When I awoke, I refused to believe I was a god. Refused to accept my place in this pantheon and this court. I’ve acted accordingly ever since. And, if I might say, I’ve gotten quite a bit more clever about it as the years have passed. Which is beside the point. The thing I must focus on—the important point here—is why.”

“I don’t know,” she confessed.

“I don’t either,” he said. “But whoever I was before, he’s trying to get out. He keeps whispering for me to dig at this mystery. Keeps warning me that I’m no god. Keeps prompting me to deal with all this in a frivolous way.” He shook his head. “I don’t know who I was—nobody will tell me. But I’m beginning to have suspicions. I was a person who couldn’t simply sit and let something unexplained slide away into the fog of memory. I was a man who hated secrets. And I’m only just beginning to understand how many secrets there are in this court.”



Blushweaver looked taken aback.

“Now,” he said, walking away from the pavilion, his servants hurrying to catch up, “if you will excuse me, I have some business to attend to.”

“What business?” Blushweaver demanded, rising.

He glanced back. “To see Allmother. There are some Lifeless Commands that need to be dealt with.”

39

Aweek living in the gutters served to drastically change Vivenna’s perspective on life.