Warbreaker (Warbreaker #1)(172)

“What?” she asked.

I would not die without Breath, he wrote. But that is not an argument in favor of flight.

“You mean the stories of Returned needing Breath to live are lies?” Siri asked incredulously.

Not at all, he wrote quickly. We do need Breath—but you forget that I hold the wealth of Breath passed down for generations in my family. I heard my priests speak of this once. If it were necessary to move me, I could survive on the extra Breaths I hold. Those over and above the Breath that makes me Returned. My body would simply feed off those extra Breaths, absorbing one a week.

Siri sat back thoughtfully. That seemed to imply something about Breath that she couldn’t quite figure out. Unfortunately, she just didn’t have the experience to sort through it.

“All right,” she said. “So we could go into hiding if we needed to.”

I said this was not an argument for fleeing, Susebron wrote. My treasure of Breaths might keep me alive, but it would also make me a very valuable target. Everyone will want those Breaths—even if I weren’t the God King, I would be in danger.

That was very true. Siri nodded. “All right,” she said. “If we’re really going to try exposing what the priests have done, I think we make our move soon. If I display any signs of being pregnant, I bet it will take the priests all of two heartbeats to sequester me.”

Susebron nodded. There will be a general assembly of the court in a couple of days. I have heard my priests say that this will be an important meeting—it is rare that the gods are all called together to vote. That meeting will decide whether or not we march on Idris.

Siri nodded nervously. “I could sit with Lightsong,” she said, “and plead for his help. If we go to several of the other gods, perhaps they—in front of the crowds—can demand to know whether or not I am lying.”

And I will open my mouth and reveal that I have no tongue, he wrote. Then let us see what the priests do. They will be forced to bow to the will of their own pantheon.

Siri nodded. “All right,” she said. “Let’s try it.”

49

Vasher found her practicing again.

He hovered outside the window, lowered down from the roof via an Awakened rope which gripped him about the waist. Inside, Vivenna repeatedly Awakened a strip of cloth, unaware of Vasher. She Commanded the cloth to wiggle across the room, wrap around a cup, then bring that cup back without spilling.

She’s learning so quickly, he thought. The Commands themselves were simple to say, but providing the right mental impulse was difficult. It was like learning to control a second body. Vivenna was quick. Yes, she had a lot of Breath. That made it easier, but true Instinctive Awakening—the ability to Awaken objects without training or practice—was a gift granted only by the Sixth Heightening. That was one step beyond even what Returned had, with their single deific Breath. Vivenna was far from that stage. She learned faster than she should have, even if he knew she was frustrated by how often she got things wrong.

Even as he watched, she made a mistake. The cloth wiggled across the room, but climbed into the cup instead of wrapping around it. It shook, making the cup fall over, then the rope finally returned, leaving a soggy trail. Vivenna cursed and walked over to refill the cup. She never noticed Vasher hanging just outside. He wasn’t surprised—he was currently a Drab, his excess Breath stored in his shirt.

She replaced the cup, and he pulled himself up as she walked back. Of course, the mechanics of how he moved about with the ropes were far more complicated than they seemed. His Command incorporated making the rope respond to taps of his finger along its length. Awakening was different from creating a Lifeless—Lifeless had brains and could interpret Commands and requests. The rope had none of that; it could only act on its original instructions.

With a few taps, he lowered himself again, Vivenna faced away from him as she picked up another colored swatch to use as fuel when she Awakened her cup-fetching ribbon.

I like her, Nightblood said. I’m glad we didn’t kill her.

Vasher didn’t respond.

She’s very pretty, don’t you think? Nightblood asked.

You can’t tell, Vasher replied.

I can tell, Nightblood said. I’ve decided that I can.

Vasher shook his head. Pretty or not, the woman should never have come to Hallandren. She’d given Denth a perfect tool. Of course, he admitted wryly, Denth probably didn’t need that tool. Hallandren and Idris were close to snapping. Vasher had stayed away too long. He knew that. He also knew that there was no way he would have come back earlier.

Inside the room, Vivenna successfully managed to get the cloth to bring her cup, and she drank from it with a satisfied look that Vasher could just barely see from the side. He had the rope lower him to the ground. He ordered it to let go up above, then—once it had twisted down around his arm—he recovered his Breath and climbed the external steps to the room.
* * *

VIVENNA TURNED AS VASHER ENTERED. She set down the cup, hurriedly stuffing the cloth in her pocket. What does it matter if he sees me practicing? she thought, flushing. It’s not like I have anything to hide. But practicing before him was embarrassing. He was so stern, so unforgiving of faults. She didn’t like him to see her fail.

Well?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Both the house you were using and the safe house in the slums are empty,” he said. “Denth is too clever to get caught like that. He must have figured that you would reveal his location.”