Warbreaker (Warbreaker #1)(160)

A month ago, Vivenna would have been offended. Her sojourn on the streets, though, had taught her a little of what desperation could do to a person. What was Idris to them if their families starved? She could not blame them for their attitude.

“You think you will fare better if Idris is conquered?” Vasher asked. “If there’s war, you’ll be treated even worse than you are now.”

“There are other options,” Vivenna said. “I know of your plight. If I return to my father and explain it, perhaps we can find a way to return you to Idris.”

“Return us to Idris?” one of the men said. “My family has been here in Hallandren for fifty years now!”

“Yes, but as long as the king of Idris lives,” Vivenna said, “you have an ally. We can work with diplomacy to make things better for you.”

“The king doesn’t care about us,” another said sadly.

“I care,” Vivenna said.

And she did. She found it strange, but a part of her felt more of a kinship with the Idrians in the city than with those she had left behind. She understood.

“We must find a way to bring attention to your suffering without bringing hatred as well,” she said. “We will find a way. As I said, my sister is married to the God King himself. Perhaps through her, he can be persuaded to improve the slums. Not because he’s afraid of the violence our people might cause, but because of the pity he feels for their situation.”

She continued to kneel, ashamed before these men. Ashamed to be crying, to be seen in the immodest clothing and with ragged, short hair. Ashamed to have failed them so completely.

How could I fail so easily? she thought. I, who was supposed to be so prepared, so in control. How could I be so angry that I ignored my people’s needs just because I wanted to see Hallandren pay?

“She is sincere,” one of the men finally said. “I will give her that.”

“I don’t know,” said another. “I still feel it’s too late.”

“If that’s the case,” Vivenna said, still looking at the floor, “what do you have to lose? Think of the lives you could save. I promise. Idris will not forget you any longer. If you make peace with Hallandren, I will insure that you are seen as heroes back in our homeland.”

“Heroes, eh?” one of them said. “It would be nice to be known as a hero, rather than the ones who left the highlands to live in brazen Hallandren.”

“Please,” Vivenna whispered.

“I’ll see what I can do,” one of the men said, standing.

Several of the others voiced agreement. They stood as well, shaking hands with Vasher. Vivenna remained kneeling as they left.

Eventually, the room was empty save for her and Vasher. He sat down across from her.

“Thanks,” he said.

“I didn’t do it for you,” she whispered.

“Get up,” he said. “Let’s go. I want to meet with someone else.”

“I . . .” She sat up on the rug, trying to make sense of her feelings. “Why should I do as you tell me? How do I know that you’re not just using me? Lying to me. Like Denth did.”

“You don’t know,” Vasher said, recovering his sword from the corner. “You’ll just have to do what I say.”

“Am I a prisoner then?”

He glanced at her. Then he walked over and squatted. “Look,” he said. “We both agree that war is bad for Idris. I’m not going to take you on raids or make you meet with slumlords. All you have to do is tell people you don’t want a war.”

“And if I’m not willing to do that?” she said. “Will you force me?”

He watched her for a moment, then swore under his breath, standing. He pulled out a bag of something and tossed it at her. It clinked as it hit her chest then fell to the floor.

“Go,” he said. “Get back to Idris. I’ll do it without you.”

She just continued to sit, staring. He began to walk away.

“Denth used me,” she found herself whispering. “And the worst part is, I still feel like this must all be just a misunderstanding. I feel that he’s really my friend, and that I should go to him and find out why he did what he did. Maybe we are all just confused.”

She closed her eyes, resting her head on her knees. “But then I remember the things I saw him do. My friend Parlin is dead. Other soldiers sent by my father, stuffed in sacks. I’m so confused.”

The room fell silent. “You’re not the first one he’s taken in, Princess,” Vasher finally said. “Denth . . . he’s a subtle one. A man like him can be evil to the core, but if he is charismatic and amusing, people will listen to him. They’ll even like him.”

She looked up, blinking teary eyes.

Vasher turned away. “Me,” he said. “I’m not like that. I have trouble talking. I get frustrated. I snap at people. Doesn’t make me very popular. But I promise you that I won’t lie to you.” He met her eyes. “I want to stop this war. That’s all that really matters to me right now. I promise you.”

She wasn’t sure if she believed him. Yet she found herself wanting to. Idiot, she thought. You’re just going to get taken in again.

She hadn’t proven herself a very good judge of character. Still, she didn’t pick up the bag of coins. “I am willing to help. Assuming it doesn’t involve anything more than telling others that I wish to keep Idris from harm.”