Warbreaker (Warbreaker #1)(184)

“No,” Vasher said.

Nightblood sighed. You locked me in a closet, he reminded. You should apologize.

“I’m not going to apologize by killing someone.”

Just throw me in there, Nightblood said. If he’s evil, he’ll kill himself.

This gave Vasher pause. Colors, he thought. The sword seemed to be getting more subtle each year, though Vasher knew he was just imagining things, projecting. Awakened objects didn’t change or grow, they simply were what they were.

It was still a good idea.

“Maybe later,” Vasher said, turning away from the building.



You are afraid, Nightblood said.

“You don’t know what fear is,” Vasher replied.

I do. You don’t like killing Returned. You’re afraid of them.

The sword was wrong, of course. But, on the outside, Vasher supposed that his hesitation did look like fear. It had been a long time since he’d dealt with the Returned. Too many memories. Too much pain.

He made his way to the God King’s palace. The structure was old, far older than the palaces that surrounded it. Once, this place had been a seaside outpost, overlooking the bay. No city. No colors. Just the stark, black tower. It amused Vasher that it had become the home of the God King of the Iridescent Tones.

Vasher slid Nightblood into a strap on his back then jumped from the wall toward the palace. Awakened tassels around his legs gave him extra strength, letting him leap some twenty feet. He slammed against the side of the building, smooth onyx blocks rubbing his skin. He twitched his fingers, and the tassels on his sleeves grabbed on to the ledge above him, holding him tight.

He breathed. The belt at his waist—touching his skin, as always—Awakened. Color drained from the kerchief tied to his leg beneath his trousers.

“Climb things, then grab things, then pull me up,” he Commanded. Three Commands in one Awakening, a difficult task for some. For him, however, it had become as simple as blinking.

The belt untied itself, revealing it to be far longer than it looked when wrapped around him. The twenty-five feet of rope snaked up the side of the building, curling inside of a window. Seconds later, the rope hauled Vasher up and into the air. Awakened objects could, if created well, have much more strength than regular muscles. He’d once seen a small group of ropes not much thicker than his own lift and toss boulders at an enemy fortification.

He released his tassel grips, then pulled Nightblood free as the rope deposited him inside the building. He knelt silently, eyes searching the darkness. The room was unoccupied. Carefully, he drew back his Breath, then wrapped the rope around his arm and held it in a loose coil. He stalked forward.

Who are we going to kill? Nightblood asked.

It’s not always about killing, Vasher said.

Vivenna. Is she in here?

The sword was trying to interpret his thoughts again. It had trouble with things that weren’t fully formed in Vasher’s head. Most thoughts passed through a man’s mind were fleeting and momentary. Flashes of image, sound, or scent. Connections made, then lost, then recovered again. That sort of thing was difficult for Nightblood to interpret.

Vivenna. The source of a lot of his troubles. His work in the city had been easier when he’d been able to assume that she was working willingly with Denth. Then, at least, he’d been able to blame her.

Where is she? Is she here? She doesn’t like me, but I like her.

Vasher hesitated in the dark hallway. You do?

Yes. She’s nice. And she’s pretty.

Nice and pretty—words that Nightblood didn’t really understand. He had simply learned when to use them. Still, the sword did have opinions, and it rarely lied. It must like Vivenna, even if it couldn’t explain why.

She reminds me of a Returned, the sword said.

Ah, Vasher thought. Of course. That makes sense. He moved on.

What? Nightblood said.

She’s descended from one, he thought. You can tell by the hair. There’s a bit of Returned in her.

Nightblood didn’t respond to that, but Vasher could feel it thinking.

He paused at an intersection. He was pretty sure he knew where the God King’s chambers would be. However, a lot of the interior seemed different now. The fortress had been stark, built with odd twists and turns to confuse an invading foe. Those remained—all the stonework was the same—but the open dining halls or garrison rooms had been split into many, smaller rooms, colorfully decorated in the mode of the Hallandren upper class.

Where would the God King’s wife be? If she was pregnant, she’d be under the care of servants. One of the larger complex of chambers, he assumed, on a higher level. He made his way to a stairwell. Fortunately, it seemed late enough that there were very few people awake.

The sister, Nightblood said. That’s who you’re after. You’re rescuing Vivenna’s sister!

Vasher nodded quietly in the darkness, feeling his way up the stairs, counting on his BioChroma to let him know if he approached anyone. Though most of his Breath was stored in his clothing, he had just enough to awaken the rope and to keep him aware.

You like Vivenna too! Nightblood said.

Nonsense, Vasher thought.

Then why?

Her sister, he thought. She’s a key to all of this, somehow. I realized it today. As soon as the queen arrived, the real move to start the war surged.

Nightblood fell silent. That kind of logical leap was a bit too complex for it. I see, he said, though Vasher smiled at the confusion he sensed in the voice.