Warbreaker (Warbreaker #1)(196)

Vivenna? The voice was faint, but she could just barely make it out. And recognize it.

“Nightblood?” she whispered.

Vivenna. Come get me.

She shivered. She wanted to turn and run—even thinking about the sword was nauseating. Yet Vasher had taken Nightblood with him. She was in the right place after all.

The gawkers spoke of a murder. Was Vasher the person who had been killed?

Suddenly concerned, she shoved her way through the crowd, ignoring yells that she should stay back. She climbed up the stairs, passing door after door. In her haste, she almost missed the one with black smoke creeping out under it.

She froze. Then, taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room was poorly kept, the floor littered with trash, the furniture rickety and worn. Four dead bodies lay on the floor. Nightblood was stuck in the chest of the fourth, an old man with a leathery face who lay on his side, dead eyes wide.

Vivenna! Nightblood said happily. You found me. I’m so excited. I tried to get them to take me to the Court of Gods, but it didn’t turn out well. He did draw me a little bit. That’s good, right?

She fell to her knees, feeling sick.

Vivenna? Nightblood asked. I did well, right? VaraTreledees threw me into the ocean, but I got back out. I’m quite satisfied. You should tell me that I did well.

She didn’t respond.

Oh, Nightblood said. And Vasher is hurt, I think. We should go find him.

She looked up. “Where?” she asked, uncertain if the sword would even be able to hear her.

The God King’s palace, Nightblood said. He went to get your sister out. I think he likes you, even though he says he doesn’t. He says you’re annoying.

Vivenna blinked. “Siri? You went after Siri?”

Yes, but VaraTreledees stopped us.

“Who is that?” She asked, frowning.

You call him Denth. He’s Shashara’s brother. I wonder if she’s here too. I’m not sure why he threw me in the water. I thought he liked me.

“Vasher . . .” she said, climbing back to her feet, feeling woozy from the sword’s influence. Vasher had been taken by Denth. She shivered, remembering the anger in Denth’s voice when he’d spoken of Vasher. She gritted her teeth and grabbed a dirty blanket off the crude bed and wrapped it around Nightblood so that she wouldn’t have to touch him.

Ah, Nightblood said. You don’t really need to do that. I had the old man clean me off after he got me out of the water.

She ignored the sword, managing to lift the bundle with only slight nausea. Then she left, heading for the Court of Gods.
* * *

LIGHTSONG SAT, staring at the stones in front of him. A trickle of Blushweaver’s blood was making its way down a crack in the rock.

“Your Grace?” Llarimar asked quietly. He stood up against the bars between their cages.

Lightsong didn’t respond.

“Your Grace, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”



“What good is godhood?” Lightsong whispered.

Silence. Lanterns flickered on either side of the small chamber. Nobody had cleaned up Blushweaver’s body, though they had left a couple of priests and Lifeless behind to watch Lightsong. They still needed him, should it turn out that he’d lied about the Command phrases.

He hadn’t.

“What?” Llarimar finally asked.

“What good is it?” Lightsong said. “We aren’t gods. Gods don’t die like that. A little cut. Not even as wide as my palm.”

“I’m sorry,” Llarimar said. “She was a good woman, even among gods.”

“She wasn’t a god,” Lightsong said. “None of us are. Those dreams are lies, if they led me to this. I’ve always known the truth, but nobody pays attention to what I say. Shouldn’t they listen to the one they worship? Particularly if he’s telling you not to worship him?”

“I . . .” Llarimar seemed at a loss for words.

“They should have seen,” Lightsong hissed. “They should have seen the truth about me! An idiot. Not a god, but a scribe. A silly little scribe who was allowed to play god for a few years! A coward.”

“You’re no coward,” Llarimar said.

“I couldn’t save her,” Lightsong said. “I couldn’t do anything. I just sat there and screamed. Maybe if I’d been more brave, I’d have joined with her and taken control of the armies. But I hesitated. And now she’s dead.”

Silence.

“You were a scribe,” Llarimar said quietly to the damp air. “And you were one of the best men I’d ever known. You were my brother.”

Lightsong looked up.

Llarimar stared out through the bars, staring at one of the flickering lanterns hanging from the stark stone wall. “I was a priest, even then. I worked in the palace of Kindwinds the Honest. I saw how he lied to play political games. The longer I stayed in that palace, the more my faith waned.”

He fell silent for a moment, then he looked up. “And then you died. Died rescuing my daughter. That’s the girl you see in your visions, Lightsong. The description is perfect. She was your favorite niece. Still would be, I assume. If you hadn’t . . .” He shook his head. “When we found you dead, I lost hope. I was going to resign my position. I knelt above your body, weeping. And then, the Colors started to glow. You lifted your head, body changing, getting larger, muscles growing stronger.