Warbreaker (Warbreaker #1)(56)
Lightsong rubbed his chin. She has a point. Maybe. Living among so many scheming people tended to make one see plots everywhere. However, the plot that Blushweaver suggested had a very serious chance of being dangerous. What better way to get an assassin close to the God King than to send someone to marry him?
No, that wouldn’t be it. Killing the God King would just cause Hallandren to go on the rampage. But if they’d sent a woman skilled in the art of manipulation—a woman who could secretly poison the mind of the God King . . .
“We need to be ready to act,” Blushweaver said. “I won’t sit and let my kingdom be pulled out from under me—I won’t idly be cast out as the royals once were. You control a fourth of our Lifeless. That’s ten thousand soldiers who don’t need to eat, who can march tirelessly. If we convince the other three with Commands to join us . . .”
Lightsong thought for a moment, then nodded and stood.
“What are you doing?” Blushweaver asked, sitting up.
“I think I’ll go for a stroll,” Lightsong said.
“Where?”
Lightsong glanced over at the queen.
“Oh, blessed Colors,” Blushweaver said with a sigh. “Lightsong, do not ruin this. We walk a very delicate line, here.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I don’t suppose I can talk you out of interacting with her?”
“My dear,” Lightsong said, glancing backward. “I at least have to chat with her. Nothing would be more intolerable than being overthrown by a person with whom I’d never even had a nice conversation.”
* * *
BLUEFINGERS WANDERED OFF SOMETIME during the court proceedings. Siri didn’t notice—she was too busy watching the priests debate.
She had to be misunderstanding. Surely they couldn’t be thinking about attacking Idris. What would be the point? What would Hallandren gain? As the priests finished their discussion on that topic, Siri turned to one of her serving women. “What was that about?”
The woman glanced down, not answering.
“They sounded like they were discussing war,” Siri said. “They wouldn’t really invade, would they?”
The woman shuffled uncomfortably, then glanced at one of her companions. That woman rushed away. A few moments later, the servant returned with Treledees. Siri frowned slightly. She did not like speaking with the man.
“Yes, Vessel?” the tall man said, eyeing her with his usual air of disdain.
She swallowed, refusing to be intimidated. “The priests,” she said. “What were they just discussing?”
“Your homeland of Idris, Vessel.”
“I know that much,” Siri said. “What do they want with Idris?”
“It seemed to me, Vessel, that they were arguing about whether or not to attack the rebel province and bring it back under proper royal control.”
“Rebel province?”
“Yes, Vessel. Your people are in a state of rebellion against the rest of the kingdom.”
“But you rebelled against us!”
Treledees raised an eyebrow.
Different viewpoints on history indeed, Siri thought. “I can see how somebody might think as you do,” she said. “But . . . you wouldn’t really attack us, would you? We sent you a queen, just as you demanded. Because of that, the next God King will have royal blood.”
Assuming the current God King ever decides to consummate our marriage. . . .
Treledees simply shrugged. “It is likely nothing, Vessel. The gods simply needed to be apprised of the current political climate of T’Telir.”
His words didn’t offer Siri much comfort. She shivered. Should she be doing something? Trying to politic in Idris’s defense?
“Vessel,” Treledees said.
She glanced at him. His peaked hat was so tall it brushed the top of the canopy. In a city full of colors and beauty, for some reason Treledees’s long face seemed even bleaker for the contrast. “Yes?” she asked.
“There is a matter of some delicacy I fear that I must discuss with you.”
“What is that?”
“You are familiar with monarchies,” he said. “Indeed, you are the daughter of a king. I assume that you know how important it is to a government that there be a secure, stable plan for succession.”
“I guess.”
“Therefore,” Treledees said, “you realize that it is of no small importance that an heir be provided as quickly as possible.”
Siri blushed. “We’re working on that.”
“With all due respect, Vessel,” Treledees said. “There is some degree of disagreement upon whether or not you actually are.”
Siri blushed further, hair reddening as she glanced away from those callous eyes.
“Such arguments, of course, are limited to those inside the palace,” Treledees said. “You can trust in the discretion of our staff and priests.”
“How do you know?” Siri said, looking up. “I mean, about us. Maybe we are . . . working on it. Maybe you’ll have your heir before you know it.”
Treledees blinked once, slowly, regarding her as if she were a ledger to be added up and accounted. “Vessel,” he said. “Do you honestly think that we would take an unfamiliar, foreign woman and place her in close proximity to our most holy of gods without keeping watch?”