Warbreaker (Warbreaker #1)(93)

She didn’t know what to make of Jewels’s outburst. How could someone be proud that their Breath had been stolen and then fed to a greedy Returned? The woman’s tone seemed to indicate she was being sincere. She’d obviously thought about these things before. Obviously, she had to rationalize her experiences to live with them.

Vivenna was trapped. The Five Visions taught that she must try to understand others. They told her not to place herself above them. And yet, Austrism taught that what Jewels had done was an abomination.

The two seemed contradictory. To believe that Jewels was wrong was to place herself above the woman. Yet to accept what Jewels said was to deny Austrism. Some might have laughed at her turmoil, but Vivenna had always tried very hard to be devout. She’d understood that she’d need strict devotion to survive in heathen Hallandren.

Heathen. Didn’t she place herself above Hallandren by calling it that word? But they were heathen. She couldn’t accept the Returned as true gods. It seemed that to believe in any faith was to become arrogant.

Perhaps she deserved the things Jewels had said to her.

Someone approached. Vivenna turned as Denth pushed open the wooden door and stepped out onto the balcony. “We’re back,” he announced.



“I know,” she said, looking out over the city and its specks of light. “I felt you enter the building a little while ago.”

He chuckled, joining her. “I forget that you have so much Breath, Princess. You never use it.”

Except to feel when people are nearby, she thought. But I can’t help that, can I?

“I recognize that look of frustration,” Denth noted. “Still worried that the plan isn’t working fast enough?”

She shook her head. “Other things entirely, Denth.”

“Probably shouldn’t have left you alone so long with Jewels. I hope she didn’t take too many bites out of you.”

Vivenna didn’t respond. Finally, she sighed, then turned toward him. “How did the job go?”

“Perfectly,” Denth said. “By the time we hit the shop, nobody was looking. Considering the guards they put there every night, they must be feeling pretty stupid to have been robbed in broad daylight.”

“I still don’t understand what good it will do,” she said. “A spice merchant’s shop?”

“Not his shop,” Denth said. “His stores. We ruined or carted off every barrel of salt in that cellar. He’s one of only three men who store salt in any great amount; most of the other spice merchants buy from him.”

“Yes, but salt,” Vivenna said. “What’s the point?”

“How hot was it today?” Denth asked.

Vivenna shrugged. “Too hot.”

“What happens to meat when it’s hot?”

“It rots,” Vivenna said. “But they don’t have to use salt to preserve meat. They can use . . .”

“Ice?” Denth asked, chuckling. “No, not down here, Princess. You want to preserve meat, you salt it. And if you want an army to carry fish with them from the Inner Sea to attack a place as far away as Idris . . .”

Vivenna smiled.

“The thieves we worked with will ship the salt away,” Denth said. “Smuggle it to the distant kingdoms where it can be sold openly. By the time this war comes, the Crown will have some real trouble keeping its men supplied with meat. Just another small strike, but those should add up.”

“Thank you,” Vivenna said.

“Don’t thank us,” Denth said. “Just pay us.”

Vivenna nodded. They fell silent for a time, looking out over the city.

“Does Jewels really believe in the Iridescent Tones?” Vivenna finally asked.

“As passionately as Tonk Fah likes to nap,” Denth said. He eyed her. “You didn’t challenge her, did you?”

“Kind of.”

Denth whistled. “And you’re still standing? I’ll have to thank her for her restraint.”

“How can she believe?” Vivenna said.

Denth shrugged. “Seems like a good enough religion to me. I mean, you can go and see her gods. Talk to them, watch them shine. It isn’t all that tough to understand.”

“But she’s working for an Idrian,” Vivenna said. “Working to undermine her own gods’ ability to wage war. That was a priest’s carriage we knocked over today.”

“And a fairly important one, actually,” Denth said with a chuckle. “Ah, Princess. It’s a little difficult to understand. Mind-set of a mercenary. We’re paid to do things—but we’re not the ones doing them. It’s you who do these things. We’re just your tools.”

“Tools that work against the Hallandren gods.”

“That isn’t a reason to stop believing,” Denth said. “We get pretty good at separating ourselves from the things we have to do. Maybe that’s what makes people hate us so much. They can’t see that if we kill a friend on a battlefield, it doesn’t mean that we’re callous or untrustworthy. We do what we’re paid to do. Just like anyone else.”

“It’s different,” Vivenna said.

Denth shrugged. “Do you think the refiner ever considers that the iron he purifies could end up in a sword that kills a friend of his?”