Warbreaker Part 10

"But of course." They stood for a few more minutes, Llarimar making no chastis.e.m.e.nt or commentary on his G.o.d's actions. Just like a good little priest.

That made Lightsong think of something. "Scoot," Lightsong said. "You're my high priest."

"Yes, your grace."

Lightsong sighed. "You really need to pay attention to the opportunities I'm giving you, Scoot. The proper, sarcastic response to my comment would have been 'I'm your priest? Really? Is that what this big hat is doing on my head? I thought it was for neck support.'"

"I apologize, your grace."

"Just try harder next time. Anyway, you know about theology and that sort of thing, correct?"

"I've studied my share, your grace."

"Well then, what is the point-religiously-of having G.o.ds that can only heal one person, then die? It seems counter-productive to me. Easy way to depopulate your pantheon."

Llarimar leaned forward, staring out over the city. "It's complicated, your grace. Returned aren't just G.o.ds-they're men who died, but who decided to come back and offer blessings and knowledge. After all, only one who has died can have anything useful to say about the other side."

"True, I guess."

"The thing is, your grace, Returned aren't meant to stay. We extend their lives, giving them extra time to bless us. But, they're really only supposed to remain alive as long as it takes them to do what they need to."

"Need to?" Lightsong said. "Seems nebulous."

Llarimar shrugged. "Returned have... goals. Objectives which are their own. You knew of yours before you decided to come back, but the process of jumping across the Iridescent Wave leaves the memory fragmented. Stay long enough, and you'll remember what you came to accomplish. The pet.i.tions... they're a way helping you remember."

"So, I've come back to save one person's life?" Lightsong said, frowning, but feeling a little embarra.s.sed. In five years, he'd spent relatively little time studying his own theology. But, well, that was the sort of thing priests were for.

"Not necessarily, your grace," Llarimar said. "You could have come back to save one person. But, more likely, there is information about the future or the afterlife that you felt you needed to share. Remember, it was the heroic way in which you died that gave you the power to Return in the first place. It might related to that, somehow."

Llarimar trailed off slightly, his eyes growing unfocused. "You saw something, Lightsong. On the other side, the future is visible, like a painting that stretches into the eternal harmonics of all the cosmos. Something you saw-something about the future-worried you. Rather than remaining at peace, you took the opportunity that your brave death afforded you, then Returned to the world. Determined to fix a problem, share information, or otherwise right something that has gone wrong.

"Anyway, once you feel that you've accomplished your task, you can use the Pet.i.tions to find someone who deserves your Breath. Then you can continue your journey across the Iridescent Wave. Our job, as your followers, is to provide Breath for you and keep you alive until you can accomplish your goal, whatever it may be. In the meantime, we pray for auguries and blessings, which can be gleaned only from one who has touched the future as you have. "

Lightsong didn't respond immediately. "And, if I don't believe?"

"In what, your grace?"

"In any of it," Lightsong said. "That Returned are G.o.ds, that these visions are anything more than random imaginings of my brain. What if I don't believe that I had any purpose or plan in Returning?"

"Then maybe that's what you came back to discover."

"So... wait. You're saying that on the other side-where I obviously believed in the other side-I realized that if I Returned I wouldn't believe in the other side, so I came back with the purpose of discovering faith in the other side, which I only lost because I Returned in the first place?"

Llarimar paused. Then, he smiled. "That last one breaks down a little bit in the face of logic, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, a little bit," Lightsong said, smiling back. He turned, eyes falling on the G.o.d King's palace, standing like a monument above the other Court structures. "What do you think of her?"

"The new queen?" Llarimar asked. "I haven't met her, your grace. She won't be presented for another few days."

"Not the person. The implications."

Llarimar glanced at him. "Your grace. That smells of an interest in politics!"

"Blah blah, yes, I know. Lightsong is a hypocrite. I'll do penance for it later. Now answer the blasted question."

Llarimar smiled. "I don't know what to think of her, your grace. The Court twenty years ago thought bringing a Royal daughter here was a good idea."

Yes, Lightsong thought. But those that court is gone. The G.o.ds who had made the treaty had thought melding the Royal line back into Hallandren would be a good idea. But, those G.o.ds-the ones who knew how to deal with the Idrian girl's arrival-arrival were now dead. They'd left inferior replacements.

"The full court meets in judgment tomorrow, doesn't it?" Lightsong said, still looking at the black palace.

"Yes, your grace."

"Contact Blushweaver. See if I can share a box with her during the judgments. Perhaps she will distract me. You know what a headache politics gives me."

"You can't get headaches, your grace."

Lightsong stood for a few moments. In the distance, he could see the rejected pet.i.tioners trailing out of the gates, returning to the city, leaving their G.o.ds behind.

"Could have fooled me," Lightsong said quietly.

Chapter Ten.

"But surely we can bend the rules a little bit," Siri said, walking quickly beside Tridees.

Tridees eyed her. The priest-high priest of the G.o.d King-would have been tall even without the elaborate miter on his head. With it, he seemed to tower over her like one of the Returned.

Well, a spindly, obnoxious, disdainful Returned.

"An exception?" he asked with his droll Hallandren accent. "No, I do not think that will be possible, Vessel."

"I don't see why not," Siri said as a servant pulled open the door in front of them, allowing them to leave a green-colored room and pa.s.s into a blue one. Tridees respectfully let her pa.s.s through the doorway first, though she could see that he was displeased he had to do so.

Well, she thought. If he finds that displeasing, he should try spending an entire week cooped up in a stone palace with n.o.body to talk to but mute servants, disdainful priests, and overworked scribes.

Siri ground her teeth, trying to think of another avenue of attack. Vivenna would be calm and logical, she thought. She'd explain the situation in a way that made sense, so that the priest listened to her. Siri took a deep breath, trying to ease the red from her hair and the frustration from her att.i.tude.

"Look. Couldn't I, maybe, just go on one trip outside? Just into the Court itself?"

"Impossible," Tridees said. "If you lack for entertainment, why not have your servants send for minstrels or jugglers? I'm sure they could keep you occupied." And out of my hair, his tone seemed to imply.

Couldn't he understand? It wasn't lack of something to do that frustrated her. It was that she shouldn't see the sky. Couldn't feel free, couldn't run away from walls and locks and rules.

Barring that, she would have settled for someone to talk to. "At least let me meet with one of the G.o.ds. I mean, really-what is accomplished by keeping me locked up like this?"

"You're not 'locked up', Vessel," Tridees said. "You are observing a period of isolation in which you can dedicate yourself wholly to your new husband. It is an ancient and worthy ritual, one that shows respect for the G.o.d King and his monarchy."

"Yes, but this is Hallandren," Siri said. "It's the land of laxness and frivolity! Surely you can see your way to making an exception."

Tridees stopped up short. "We do not make exceptions in matters of religion, Vessel. I must a.s.sume that you are testing me in some way, for I find it hard to believe that anyone worthy of touching our G.o.d King could harbor such vulgar thoughts."

Siri cringed. Four days in the city, she thought, and I've already started letting my tongue get me into trouble. That was something she should have learned from Vivenna. Siri didn't dislike people-she loved to talk to them, spend time with them, laugh with them. However, she couldn't make them do what she wanted, not in the way that a politician was supposed to be able to do.

She and Tridees continued walking. Siri wore a long, flowing brown skirt that covered up her feet and had a train that trailed behind her. The priest was wearing golds and maroons-colors matched by the servants. It still amazed her that everyone in the palace had so many costumes, even if they were identical save for color.

She knew that she shouldn't let herself get annoyed with the priests. They already didn't seem to like her, and getting snappy wouldn't help. It was just that the last few days had been so dull. Trapped in the palace, unable to leave, unable to find anyone to talk to, she found herself nearly going mad.

But there would be no exceptions. Apparently.

"Will that be all, Vessel?" Tridees asked, pausing beside a door. It almost seemed like he found it a ch.o.r.e to remain civil toward her.

Siri sighed, but nodded. The priest bowed, then opened the door and quickly rushed away. Siri watched him go, tapping her foot, arms folded. Her servants stood arrayed behind her, silent as always. She considered finding Bluefingers, but... no. He always had so much to do, and she felt bad distracting him.

That left her with nothing. Sighing again, she motioned for her servants to prepare the evening meal. Two fetched a chair from the side of the room. Siri sat, resting as food was gathered. The chair was plush, but it was still difficult to sit in a way that didn't aggravate one of her aches or cramps. Each of the last four nights, she had been forced to kneel on the floor, naked, until she finally grew so drowsy that she drifted off. Sleeping on the hard stone had left a dull, almost ever-present, pain in her back and neck.

Each morning, once the G.o.d King was gone, she moved to the bed. When she awoke the second time, she burned the sheets. After that, she chose her clothing. There was a new array each time, with no repeated outfits. She wasn't sure where the servants got such a steady supply of clothing in Siri's size, but it made her a little apprehensive about choosing her daily costume. She knew that she'd likely never see any of the options again.

After dressing, she was free to do as she wished-a.s.suming she didn't leave the palace. When night came, she was bathed, then given a choice of luxurious gowns to wear into the bed chamber. As a matter of comfort, she had started requesting more and more ornate gowns, with more fabric to use in sleeping. She often wondered what the dressmakers would think if they knew that their gowns were only worn for a few brief moments before being discarded to the floor, then eventually used as blankets.

She didn't own anything, yet could have whatever she wanted. Exotic foods, furniture, entertainers, books, art... anything she asked for was provided. And yet, when she was finished, it was removed. She had everything and nothing at the same time.

She yawned. The irregular sleep schedule left her bleary-eyed and tired. The completely empty days didn't help much either. If only there were someone to talk to. But servants, priests, and scribes had all proven uninterested. That accounted for everyone she interacted with.

Well, except him.

Could she even call that interacting? The G.o.d King appeared to enjoy looking at her body, but he'd never given her any indication that he wanted more. He simply let her kneel, those eyes of his watching her and dissecting her. That was the sum total of their marriage.

The servants finished putting out her dinner then lined up by the wall. It was getting late-almost time for her nightly bathing. I'll have to eat quickly, she thought, sitting at the table. After all, I wouldn't want to be late for the evening's ogling.

A few hours later, Siri stood bathed, perfumed, and dressed before the ma.s.sive golden door that led into the G.o.d King's bed chamber. She breathed deeply, calming herself, anxiety bringing her hair to a pale brown. She still hadn't gotten used to this part.

It was silly. She knew what would happen. And yet, the antic.i.p.ation-the fear-was still there. G.o.d King. His actions proved the power he had over her. One day he would take her, and it could come at any time. Part of her wished he'd just be done with it. The extended dread was even worse than that first single evening of terror.

She s.h.i.+vered. Bluefingers eyed her. Perhaps eventually he'd trust her to arrive at the bed chambers on time. Each night so far, he'd come to escort her to the bed chamber.

At least he hasn't shown up while I'm bathing again. The warm water and pleasant scents should have made her relax-unfortunately, she tended to spend the each bath worrying about either her impending visit to the G.o.d King, or about some male servant walking in on her.

She glanced at Bluefingers.

"A few more minutes, Vessel," he said.

How does he know? she thought. The man seemed to have a supernatural sense of time. She hadn't seen any form of timepiece in the palace-neither sundial, metered candle, nor water clock. In Hallandren, apparently, G.o.ds and queens didn't worry about such things. They had servants to remind them of appointments.

Bluefingers glanced at the door, then at her. When he saw that she was watching him, he immediately turned away. As he stood, he started shuffling his weight from foot to foot.

What does he have to be nervous about? she thought with annoyance, turning to stare at the door's intricate gold designs. He's not the one who has to go through this every night.

"Do... things go well with the G.o.d King, then?" Bluefingers asked suddenly.

Siri frowned.

"I can see that you're tired a lot of the time," Bluefingers said. "I... guess that means you are very... active at night."

"That's good, right? Everyone wants an heir as soon as possible."

"Yes, of course," Bluefingers said, wringing his hands. "It's just that... " he trailed off, then glanced at her, meeting her eyes. "You just might want to be careful, Vessel. Keep your wits about you. Try to stay alert."

Her hair bleached the rest of the way white. "You... make it sound as if I'm in danger," she said softly.

"What? Danger?" Bluefingers said, glancing to the side. "Nonsense. What would you have to fear? I was simply suggesting that you remain alert, should the G.o.d King have needs you should fulfill. Ah, see, now it's time. Enjoy your evening, Vessel."

With that, he pushed open the door, placed a hand on her back, and guided her into the room. At the last moment, however, he moved his head up next to hers. "You should watch yourself, child," he whispered. "Not all here in the palace is as it seems."

Siri frowned, turning, but Bluefingers plastered on a false smile and pushed the door shut.

What in Austre's name was that? she thought, pausing for what was probably too long a time as she stared at the door. Finally, she sighed, turning away. The usual fire crackled in the hearth, but it was smaller than normal. That left the room a bit chilly.

He was there. Siri didn't need to look to see him. As her eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness, she could notice that the fire's colors-blue, orange, even black-were far too true, far too vibrant. Her gown, a brilliant golden satin, seemed to burn with its own inner color. Anything that was too white-some of the la.s.s on her dress, for instance-bent slightly, giving off a rainbow of colors as if seen through the distortion of a prism. Part of her wished for a well-lit room, where she could experience the full beauty of BioChroma.

But, of course, that was not right. The G.o.d King's Breath was a perversion. He was fed on the souls of his people, and the colors he created came at their expense.

s.h.i.+vering, Siri undid the side of her dress then let the garment fall to pieces around her-the long sleeves slipping free, bodice falling forward, skirt and gown rustling as they dropped to the floor. She completed the ritual, sliding the straps of her s.h.i.+ft off her shoulders, then dropping the garment to the floor beside the gown. She stepped free of both, then bowed herself down into her customary posture.

Her back complained, and she ruefully contemplated another uncomfortable night. The least they could do, she thought, is make certain the fire is large enough. At night in the large stone palace, it could get a little chilly despite the Hallandren tropical climate. Particularly if one were naked.

Focus on Bluefingers, she thought, trying to distract herself from the discomfort. What did he mean? Things are not what they seem in the palace?

Was he referring to the G.o.d King and his ability to have her killed? She was well aware of the G.o.d King's power. How could she forget it, with him sitting not fifteen feet away, watching from the shadows? No, that wasn't it. He'd felt he'd needed to give this warning quietly, without others hearing. Watch yourself...

It smelt of politics, something Siri hadn't been trained for-though she should have been. She gritted her teeth. If she'd paid more attention to the tutors, would she-perhaps-have been able to pick out a more subtle meaning to Bluefinger's warning?

As if I needed something else to be confused about, she thought. If Bluefingers had something to tell her, why hadn't he just said it? As the minutes pa.s.sed, she thought about his comments again and again. The words were like an insomniac, turning over repeatedly, unable to simply rest in her mind. Yet, at the same time, she felt too tired-too uncomfortable and cold-to come to any conclusions. That only left her feeling more annoyed.

Vivenna would have figured it out. Vivenna probably would have known instinctively why the G.o.d King hadn't chosen to sleep with her. She would have fixed it the first night.

But Siri was incompetent. She tried so hard to do as Vivenna would have-to be the best wife she could, to serve Idris. To be the woman that everyone expected her to be.

But, she wasn't. She couldn't just keep doing this. She felt trapped in the palace. She couldn't get the priests to do more than roll their eyes at her. She couldn't even tempt the G.o.d King to bed her. On top of that, she could very well be in danger, and she couldn't even understand why or how.