Warbreaker (Warbreaker #1)(162)

“What are you saying?” she asked.

Perhaps the entire monarchy of Hallandren is nothing more than a way to guard the Breath. The only way to safely pass Breath between individuals and generations is to use people as hosts. So they created a dynasty of God Kings who could hold the treasure and pass it from father to son.

Siri nodded slowly. “That would mean that the God King is more of a vessel than I am. A sheath for a magic weapon.”

Exactly, Susebron wrote, hand moving quickly. They had to make my family kings because of how much Breath was in that treasure. And they had to give it to a Returned—otherwise their king and their gods might have competed for power.

“Perhaps. It seems awfully convenient that the God King always bears a stillborn son who becomes Returned . . .”

She trailed off. Susebron saw it too.

Unless the next God King isn’t really the son of the current one, he wrote, hand shaking slightly.

“Austre!” Siri said. “God of Colors! That’s it. Somewhere in the kingdom, a baby died and Returned. That’s why it’s so urgent that I get pregnant! They already have the next God King, now they just need to keep up the farce. They marry me to you, hope for a child as quickly as possible, then switch the baby for the Returned one.”

Then they kill me and somehow take my Breaths away, he wrote. And give it to this child, who can become the next God King.

“Wait. Do infants even Return?” she asked.

Yes, he wrote.

“But, how does an infant Return in a way that is heroic, or virtuous, or anything like that?”

Susebron hesitated, and she could tell he didn’t have an answer for her. Infant Returned. Among her own people, they didn’t believe that a person was chosen to Return because of some virtue they exemplified. That was a Hallandren belief. To her, it seemed a hole in their theology, but she didn’t want to challenge Susebron on it further. He already worried about how she didn’t believe in his divinity.

Siri sat back. “That doesn’t really matter. The real question is more important. If the God Kings are just vessels to hold Breath, then why bother changing them? Why not just leave one man holding the Breath?”

I don’t know, Susebron wrote. It doesn’t seem to make sense, does it? Maybe they are worried about keeping a single God King captive that long. Children are easier to control, perhaps?

“If that’s the case, they would want to change more often,” Siri said. “Some of those God Kings lasted centuries. Of course, it could just have to do with how rebellious they think their king is.”

I do everything I’m supposed to! You just complained that I am too obedient.

“Compared to me, you are,” she said. “Maybe from their viewpoint, you’re a wild man. After all, you did hide that book your mother gave you, and then you learned to write. Perhaps they know you well enough to realize that you weren’t going to stay docile. So now that they have an opportunity to replace you, they’re intending to take it.”

Maybe, he wrote.

Siri thought through their conclusions again. Looked at critically, she could see that they were just speculations. Yet everyone said that the other Returned couldn’t have children, and so why would the God King be different? That might just be a means of obfuscating the fact that they were bringing in a new person to be God King when they found one.

That still didn’t answer the most important question. What were they going to do to Susebron to get his Breaths away from him?

Susebron leaned back, staring up at the dark ceiling. Siri watched him, noting the look of sadness in his eyes. “What?” she asked.

He just shook his head.

“Please? What is it?”

He sat for a moment, then looked down, writing. If what you say is true, then the woman who raised me was not my mother. I would have been born to someone random out in the countryside. The priests would have taken me once I Returned, then raised me in the palace as the “son” of the God King they’d just killed.

Seeing him in pain made her insides twist. She moved around the blanket, sitting beside him, putting her arms around him and resting her head on his arm.

She’s the only person to have shown me real kindness in my life, he wrote. The priests, they revere me and care for me—or, at least, I assumed that they did. However, they never really loved me. Only my mother did that. And now I’m not sure I even know who she is.

“If she raised you, she’s your mother,” Siri said. “It doesn’t matter who gave birth to you.”

He didn’t respond to that.

“Maybe she was your real mother,” Siri said. “If they were going to bring you to the palace in secret, they might as well bring your mother too. Who better to care for you?”

He nodded, then scribbled on the board with one hand—the other was around Siri’s waist. Perhaps you are right. Though it now seems suspicious to me that she would die as she did. She was one of the few who could have told me the truth.

This seemed to make him even more sad, and Siri pulled him closer, laying her head on his chest.

Please, he wrote. Tell me of your family.

“My father was often frustrated with me,” Siri said. “But he did love me. Does love me. He just wanted me to do what they thought was right. And . . . well, the more time I spend in Hallandren, the more I wish I had listened to him, at least a little bit.