Warbreaker (Warbreaker #1)(68)

“I’m not going to become an Awakener, Denth,” Vivenna said quietly. “I might turn a blind eye toward that Lifeless, for now. But I will not Awaken. I expect to take these Breaths to my death so that nobody else can benefit from harvesting them. No matter what you say, if you buy that sword forged by overworked slaves, then you’ll just encourage the evil merchants.”

Denth fell silent. Then he nodded, standing. “You’re the boss, and it’s your kingdom. If we fail, the only thing I lose is an employer.”

“Denth,” Jewels said, approaching. She barely gave Vivenna a glance. “I don’t like this. I don’t like the fact that he got here first. He has Breath—reports say he looked to have reached at least the Fourth Heightening. Maybe the Fifth. I’ll bet he got it from that rebel, Vahr.”

“How do you even know it’s him?” Denth asked.

Jewels snorted. “Word’s all over. People being found slaughtered in alleyways, the wounds corrupt and black. Sightings of a new, powerful Awakener roaming the city carrying a black-handled sword in a silver sheath. It’s Tax, all right. Goes by a different name now.”

Denth nodded. “Vasher. He’s used it for a while. It’s a joke on his part.”

Vivenna frowned. Black-handled sword. Silver sheath. The man at the arena? “Who are we talking about?”

Jewels shot her an annoyed look, but Denth just shrugged. “Old . . . friend of ours.”

“He’s bad trouble,” Tonk Fah said, walking up. “Tax tends to leave a lot of bodies in his wake. Has strange motivations—doesn’t think like other people.”

“He’s interested in the war for some reason, Denth,” Jewels said.

“Let him be,” Denth snapped. “That will just bring him across my path all the sooner.” He turned away, waving a hand indifferently. Vivenna watched him go, noting the frustration in his step, the curtness of his motions.

“What is wrong with him?” she asked Tonk Fah.

“Tax—or, I guess, Vasher—” Tonk Fah said. “He killed a good friend of ours over in Yarn Dred a couple months back. Denth used to have four people in this team.”

“It shouldn’t have happened,” Jewels said. “Arsteel was a brilliant duelist—almost as good as Denth. Vasher’s never been able to beat either of them.”

“He used that . . . sword of his,” Tonk Fah grumbled.

“There was no blackness around the wound,” Jewels said.

“Then he cut the blackness out,” Tonk Fah snapped, watching Denth belt a sword to his waist. “There’s no way Vasher beat Arsteel in a fair duel. No way.”

“This Vasher,” Vivenna found herself saying. “I saw him.”

Jewels and Tonk Fah turned sharply.

“He was at the court yesterday,” Vivenna said. “Tall man, carrying a sword when nobody else did. It had a black hilt and a silver sheath. He looked ragged. Hair unkempt, beard scraggly, clothing ripped in places. Only a rope for a belt. He was watching me from behind. He looked . . . dangerous.”

Tonk Fah cursed quietly.

“That’s him,” Jewels said. “Denth!”

“What?” Denth asked.

Jewels gestured at Vivenna. “He’s a step ahead of us. Been tailing your princess here. She saw him watching her at the court.”

“Colors!” Denth swore, snapping a dueling blade into the sheath at his waist. “Colors, Colors, Colors!”

“What?” Vivenna asked, paling. “Maybe it was just a coincidence. He could have just come to watch the court.”



Denth shook his head. “There are no coincidences where that man is concerned, Princess. If he was watching you, then you can bet on the Colors that he knows exactly who you are and where you came from.” He met her eyes. “And he’s probably planning to kill you.”

Vivenna fell silent.

Tonk Fah laid a hand on her shoulder. “Ah, don’t worry, Vivenna. He wants to kill us too. At least you’re in good company.”

20

For the first time in her several weeks at the palace, Siri stood before the God King’s door and felt neither worried nor tired.

Bluefingers, oddly, wasn’t scribbling on his pad. He watched her silently, expression unreadable.

Siri almost smiled to herself. Gone were the days when she’d had to lie on the floor, awkwardly trying to kneel while her back complained. Gone were the days when she had to fall asleep on the marble, her discarded dress her only comfort. Ever since she’d grown daring enough to climb into the bed the previous week, she’d slept well each night, comfortable and warm. And not once had she been touched by the God King.

It was a nice arrangement. The priests—apparently satisfied that she was doing her wifely duty—left her alone. She didn’t have to be naked in front of anyone, and she was beginning to learn the social dynamic of the palace. She’d even gone to a few more sessions of the Court Assembly, though she hadn’t mingled with the Returned.

“Vessel,” Bluefingers said quietly.

She turned toward him, raising an eyebrow.

He shuffled uncomfortably. “You . . . have found a way to make the king respond to your advances, then?”

“That got out, did it?” she asked, looking back at the door. Inside, her smile deepened.