Warbreaker (Warbreaker #1)(35)

Lemex will have ideas, she told herself. We don’t have to do anything yet. I’m—

A man sat down at her table. Less colorfully dressed than most Hallandren, he wore an outfit made mostly of brown leather, though he did have a token red cloth vest thrown over the top. This was not Lemex. The spy was an older man in his fifties. This stranger had a long face and styled hair, and couldn’t have been older than thirty-five.

“I hate being a mercenary,” the man said. “You know why?”

Shocked, Vivenna sat frozen, mouth opened slightly.

“The prejudice,” the man said. “Everyone else, they work, they ask for recompense, and they are respected for it. Not mercenaries. We get a bad name just for doing our job. How many minstrels get spat on for accepting payment from the highest bidder? How many bakers feel guilty for selling more of pastries to one man, then selling those same pastries to the man’s enemies?” He eyed her. “No. Only the mercenary. Unfair, wouldn’t you say?”

“W . . . who are you?” Vivenna finally managed to ask. She jumped as another man sat down on her other side. Large of girth, this man had a cudgel strapped to his back. A colorful bird was sitting on the end of it.

“I’m Denth,” the first man said, taking her hand and shaking it. “That’s Tonk Fah.”

“Pleased,” Tonk Fah said, taking her hand once Denth was through with it.

“Unfortunately, Princess,” Denth said, “we’re here to kill you.”

10

Vivenna’s hair instantly bleached to a stark white.

Think! she told herself. You’ve been trained in politics! You studied hostage negotiation. But . . . what do you do when you are the hostage?

Suddenly, the two men burst out laughing. The larger man thumped the table several times with his hand, causing his bird to squawk.

“Sorry, Princess,” Denth—the thinner man—said, shaking his head. “Just a bit of mercenary humor.”

“We kill sometimes, but we don’t murder,” Tonk Fah said. “That’s assassin work.”

“Assassins,” Denth said, holding up a finger. “Now, they get respect. Why do you suppose that is? They’re really just mercenaries with fancier names.”

Vivenna blinked, struggling to get control of her nerves. “You’re not here to kill me,” she said, voice stiff. “So you’re just going to kidnap me?”

“Gods, no,” Denth said. “Bad business, that. How do you make money at it? Every time you kidnap someone worth the ransom, you upset people a whole lot more powerful than you are.”

“Don’t make important people angry,” Tonk Fah said, yawning. “Unless you’re getting paid by people who are even more powerful.”

Denth nodded. “And that isn’t even considering the feeding and care of captives, the exchanging of ransom notes, and the arranging of drop-offs. It’s a headache, I tell you. Terrible way to make money.”

The table fell silent. Vivenna placed her hands flat on its top to keep them from quivering. They know who I am, she thought, forcing herself to think logically. Either they recognize me, or . . .

“You work for Lemex,” she said.

Denth smiled widely. “See, Tonk? He said she was a clever one.”

“Guess that’s why she’s a princess and we’re just mercenaries,” Tonk Fah said.

Vivenna frowned. Are they mocking me or not? “Where is Lemex? Why didn’t he come himself?”

Denth smiled again, nodding toward the restaurant owner as the man brought a large pot of steaming stew to the table. It smelled of hot spices, and had what appeared to be crab claws floating in it. The owner dropped a group of wooden spoons to the table, then retreated.

Denth and Tonk Fah didn’t wait for permission to eat her meal. “Your friend,” Denth said, grabbing a spoon, “Lemex—our employer—isn’t doing so well.”

“Fevers,” Tonk Fah said between slurps.

“He requested that we bring you to him,” Denth said. He handed her a folded piece of paper with one hand, while cracking a claw between three fingers of the other. Vivenna cringed as he slurped the contents out.

Princess, the paper read. Please trust these men. Denth has served me well for some measure now, and he is loyal—if any mercenary can be called loyal. He and his men have been paid, and I am confident he will stay true to us for the duration of his contract. I offer proof of authenticity by virtue of this password: bluemask.



The writing was in Lemex’s hand. More than that, he had given the proper password. Not “bluemask”—that was misdirection. The true password was using the word “measure” instead of time. She glanced at Denth, who slurped out the insides of another claw.

“Ah, now,” he said, tossing aside the shell. “This is the tricky part; she has to make a decision. Are we telling her the truth, or are we fooling her? Have we fabricated that letter? Or maybe we took the old spy captive and tortured him, forcing him to write the words.”

“We could bring you his fingers as proof of our good faith,” Tonk Fah said. “Would that help?

Vivenna raised an eyebrow. “Mercenary humor?”

“Such that it is,” Denth said with a sigh. “We’re not generally a clever lot. Otherwise, we’d probably have selected a profession without such a high mortality rate.”