Warbreaker (Warbreaker #1)(85)

“I’m still not myself persuaded that we will need them,” Lightsong said. “War may not be necessary.”

“As I said,” Blushweaver replied, “we need to be careful. I’m just making preparations.”

“All right,” he said. There was a wisdom to that. “But we don’t know that it was an Idrian who broke into Mercystar’s palace. Why are you implying that it was?”



“And you think it’s just coincidence? Someone sneaks into one of our palaces now, with the war approaching?”

“Coincidence.”

“And the intruder just happened to pick one of the four Returned who hold Lifeless access Commands? If I were going to go to war with Hallandren, the first thing I’d do would be try to search out those commands. Maybe see if they were written down anywhere, or perhaps try to kill the gods who held them.”

Lightsong glanced back at the palace. Blushweaver’s arguments held some merit, but they weren’t enough. He had an odd impulse to look into this more deeply. However, that sounded like work. He really couldn’t afford to make an exception to his usual habits, particularly without a lot of complaining first. It set a poor precedent. So he just nodded his head, and Blushweaver led them back to the pavilion.

“Dear,” Blushweaver said, quickly sitting back beside Mercystar and looking a little bit more anxious. She leaned in. “We’ve talked it over and decided to trust you.”

Mercystar sat up. “Trust me? With what?”

“Knowledge,” Blushweaver whispered. “There are those of us who fear that the Idrians aren’t content with their mountains and are determined to control the lowlands as well.”

“But we’ll be joined by blood,” Mercystar said. “There will be a Hallandren God King with royal blood on our throne.”

“Oh?” Blushweaver said. “And could that not also be interpreted as an Idrian king with Hallandren blood on the throne?”

Mercystar wavered. Then, oddly, she glanced at Lightsong. “Do you believe this?”

Why did people look toward him? He did everything to discourage such behavior, but they still tended to act like he was some kind of moral authority. “I think that some . . . preparation would be wise,” he said. “Though, of course, the same can be said for dinner.”

Blushweaver gave him an annoyed look, though by the time she looked back at Mercystar, she had her consoling face on again. “We understand that you’ve had a difficult day,” she said. “But please, consider our offer. We would like you to join with us in our precautions.”

“What kind of precautions are you talking about?” Mercystar asked.

“Simple ones,” Blushweaver said quickly. “Thinking, talking, planning. Eventually, if we think we have enough evidence, we will bring what we know to the God King.”

This seemed to ease Mercystar’s mind. She nodded. “Yes, I can see. Preparation. It would be wise.”

“Rest now, dear,” Blushweaver said, rising and leading Lightsong away from the pavilion. They walked leisurely across the perfect lawn back toward Blushweaver’s own palace. He felt a reluctance to go, however. Something about the meeting bothered him.

“She’s a dear,” Blushweaver said, smiling.

“You just say that because she’s so easy to manipulate.”

“Of course,” Blushweaver said. “I positively love people who do as they should. ‘Should’ being defined as whatever I think is best.”

“At least you’re open about it,” Lightsong said.

“To you, my dear, I’m as easy to read as a book.”

He snorted. “Maybe one that hasn’t been translated to Hallandren yet.”

“You just say that because you’ve never really tried reading me,” she said, smiling at him. “Though, I must say that there is one thing about dear Mercystar that positively annoys me.”

“And that is?”

“Her armies,” Blushweaver said, folding her arms. “Why did she, goddess of kindness, get command of ten thousand Lifeless? It’s obviously a dire error in judgment. Particularly since I don’t have command of any troops.”

“Blushweaver,” he said with amusement, “you’re the goddess of honesty, communication, and interpersonal relationships. Why in the world would you be given stewardship of armies?”

“There are many interpersonal relationships related to armies,” she said. “After all, what do you call one man hitting another with a sword? That’s interpersonal.”

“Quite so,” Lightsong said, glancing back at Mercystar’s pavilion.

“Now,” Blushweaver said, “I should think that you’d appreciate my arguments, since relationships are, in fact, war. As is clear in our relationship, dear Lightsong. We . . .” She trailed off, then poked him in the shoulder. “Lightsong? Pay attention to me!”

“Yes?”

She folded her arms petulantly. “I must say, your banter has been decidedly off today. I may just have to find someone else to play with.”

“Hum, yes,” he said, studying Mercystar’s palace. “Tragic. Now, the break-in at Mercystar’s. It was just one person?”

“Supposedly,” Blushweaver said. “It’s not important.”