Warbreaker

Then there was the guilt she felt for actually enjoying all the challenges and problems. Back home, she’d had to be contrary and disobedient to find any kind of excitement. Here she only had to stand and watch, and things would begin to topple against each other and cause a clatter. There was far too much clatter at present, but that didn’t stop her from thrilling at her part in it.

Silly fool, she told herself. Everything you love is in danger and you’re thinking about how exciting it is?

She needed to find a way to help Susebron. In doing so, perhaps she could bring him out from beneath the oppressive control of the priests. Then he might be able to do something to help her homeland. As she followed that line of thought, she almost missed a comment from below. It was spoken by one of the priests most strongly in favor of attacking.

“Have you not heard of the Idrian agent who has been causing havoc in the city?” the priest asked. “The Idrians are preparing for the war! They know that a conflict is inevitable and so they’ve begun to work against us!”

Siri perked up. Idrian agents in the city?

“Bah,” said another of the priests. “The ‘infiltrator’ you speak of is said to be a princess of the royal family. That’s obviously a story for the common people. Why would a princess come in secret to T’Telir? Theses stories are ridiculous and unfounded.”

Siri grimaced. That, at least, was obviously true. Her sisters were not the types to come and work as “Idrian agents.” She smiled, imagining her soft-spoken monk of a sister—or even Vivenna in her prim outfits and stony attitude—coming to T’Telir in secret. Part of her had a little trouble believing that Vivenna had really been intended to become Susebron’s bride. Starchy Vivenna? Having to deal with the exotic court and the wild costumes?

Vivenna’s stoic coldness would never have coaxed Susebron out of his imperial mask. Vivenna’s obvious disapproval would have alienated her from gods like Lightsong. Vivenna would have hated wearing the beautiful dresses and would never have appreciated the colors and variety in the city. Siri might not have been ideal for the position, but she was slowly coming to realize that Vivenna hadn’t been a good choice either.

A group of people was approaching along the walkway. Siri remained where she was; she was too distracted by her thoughts to pay much attention.

“Are they talking about a relative of yours?” a voice asked.

Siri started, spinning. Behind her stood a dark-haired goddess wearing a lavish—and revealing—gown of green and silver. Like most of the gods, she stood a good head taller than a mortal person, and she looked down at Siri with a raised eyebrow.

“Your . . . Grace?” Siri responded, confused.

“They’re discussing the famous hidden princess,” the goddess said with a wave of her hand. “She’d be a relative of yours, if she really does have the Royal Locks.”

Siri glanced back at the priests. “They must be mistaken. I’m the only princess here.”

“The stories of her are quite pervasive.”

Siri fell silent.

“My Lightsong has taken a liking to you, Princess,” the goddess said, folding her arms.

“He has been very kind to me,” Siri said carefully, trying to present the right image—that of the person she was, only less threatening. A little more confused. “Might I ask which goddess you are, Your Grace?”

“I am Blushweaver,” the goddess said.

“I am pleased to meet you.”

“No you aren’t,” Blushweaver said. She leaned in, eyes narrowing. “I don’t like what you’re doing here.”

“Excuse me?”

Blushweaver raised a finger. “He’s a better man than any of us, Princess. Don’t you go spoiling him and pulling him into your schemes.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You don’t fool me with your false naïveté,” Blushweaver said. “Lightsong is a good person—one of the last ones we have left in this court. If you taint him, I will destroy you. Do you understand?”

Siri nodded dumbly; then Blushweaver turned and moved away, muttering, “Find someone else’s bed to climb into, you little slut.”

Siri watched her go, shocked. When she finally regained her composure, she blushed furiously, then fled.

* * *

BY THE TIME she got back to the palace, Siri was quite ready for her bath. She entered the bathing chamber, letting her serving women undress her. They retreated with the clothing, then exited to prepare the evening’s gown. That left Siri in the hands of a group of lesser attendants, the ones whose job it was to follow her into the massive tub and scrub her clean.

Siri relaxed and leaned back, sighing as the women went to work. Another group—standing fully clothed in the deep water—pulled her hair straight then cut most of it free, something she’d ordered them to do every night.

For a few moments, Siri floated and let herself forget the threats to her people and her husband. She even let herself forget Blushweaver and her snappish misunderstanding. She just enjoyed the heat and the scents of the perfumed water.

“You wanted to speak with me, My Queen?” a voice asked.

Siri started, splashing as she dunked her body beneath the water. “Bluefingers,” she snapped. “I thought we’d cleared this up on the first day!”

He stood at he rim of the tub, fingers blue, typically anxious as he began to pace. “Oh, please,” he said. “I have daughters twice your age. You sent word that you wanted to talk to me. Well, this is where I will talk. Away from random ears.”

He nodded to several of the serving girls, and they began to splash just a bit more, speaking quietly, creating a low noise. Siri flushed, her short hair a deep red—though a few cut-off strands that floated in the water remained blond.

“Haven’t you gotten over your shyness yet?” Bluefingers asked. “You’ve been in Hallandren for months.”

Siri eyed him, but didn’t relax her concealing posture, even if she did let the serving women continue to work on her hair and scrub her back. “Won’t it seem suspicious to have the serving women making so much noise?” she asked.

Bluefingers waved a hand. “They’re already considered second-class servants by most in the palace.” She understood what he meant. These women, as opposed to her regular servants, wore brown. They were from Pahn Kahl.

“You sent me a message earlier,” Bluefingers said. “What did you mean by claiming to have information relating to my plans?”

Siri bit her lip, sorting through the dozens of ideas she had considered, discarding them all. What did she know? How could she make Bluefingers willing to trade?

He gave me clues, she thought. He tried to scare me into not sleeping with the king. But he had no reason to help me. He barely knew me. He must have other motives for not wanting an heir to be born.

“What happens when a new God King takes the throne?” she asked carefully.

He eyed her. “So you’ve figured that out, then?”

Figured out what? “Of course I have,” she said out loud.

He wrung his hands nervously. “Of course, of course. Then you can see why I’m so nervous? We worked hard to get me where I am. It isn’t easy for a Pahn Kahl man to rise high in the theocracy of Hallandren. Once I got into place, I worked so hard to provide work for my people. The serving girls who wash you, they have far better lives than the Pahn Kahl who work the dye fields. That will all be lost. We don’t believe in their gods. Why would we be treated as well as people of their own faith?”

“I still don’t see why it has to happen,” Siri said carefully.

He waved a nervous hand. “Of course it doesn’t have to, but tradition is tradition. The Hallandren are very lax in every area but religion. When a new God King is chosen, his servants are replaced. They won’t kill us to send us into the afterlife along with our lord—that horrid custom hasn’t been in effect since the days before the Manywar—but we will be dismissed. A new God King represents a fresh start.”

He stopped pacing, looking at her. She was still naked in the water, awkwardly covering herself as best she could. “But,” he said, “I guess my job security is the lesser of our problems.”

Siri snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about my safety above your own place in the palace.”

“Of course not,” he said, kneeling down beside the tub, speaking quietly. “But the God King’s life . . . well, that worries me.”

“So,” Siri said, “I haven’t been able to decide yet. Do the God Kings give up their lives willingly once they have an heir, or are they coerced into it?”

“I’m not sure,” Bluefingers admitted. “There are stories, spoken of by my people regarding the last God King’s death. They say that the plague he cured—well, he wasn’t even in the city when the ‘curing’ happened. My suspicion is that they somehow coerced him to give up his Breaths to his son and that killed him.”

He doesn’t know, Siri thought. He doesn’t realize that Susebron is a mute. “How closely have you served the God King?”

He shrugged. “As close as any servant considered unholy. I’m not allowed to touch him or speak to him. But, Princess, I’ve served him all my life. He’s not my god, but he’s something better. I think these priests look upon their gods as placeholders. It doesn’t really matter to them who is holding the station. Me, I’ve served His Majesty for my entire life. I was hired by the palace as a lad and I remember Susebron’s childhood. I cleaned his quarters. He’s not my god, but he is my liege. And now these priests are planning to kill him.”

He turned back to his pacing, wringing his hands. “But there’s nothing to be done.”

“Yes, there is,” she said.

He waved a hand. “I gave you a warning and you ignored it. I know that you’ve been performing your duties as a wife. Perhaps we could find some way of making certain that no pregnancy of yours comes to term.”

Siri flushed. “I would never do such a thing! Austre forbids it.”

“Even to save the life of the God King? But . . . of course. What is he to you? Your captor and imprisoner. Yes. Perhaps my warnings were useless.”

“I do care, Bluefingers,” she said. “And I think we can stop this before it gets to the point of worrying about an heir. I’ve been talking to the God King.”

Bluefingers froze, looking directly at her. “What?”

“I’ve been talking to him,” Siri admitted. “He’s not as heartless as you might think. I don’t think this has to end with him dying or your people losing their places in the palace.”

Bluefingers studied her, staring at her to the point that she flushed again, ducking further down into the water.

“I see that you’ve found yourself a position of power,” he noted.

Or, at least, one that looks powerful, she thought ruefully. “If things turn out as I want them to, I’ll make certain your people are cared for.”