Warbreaker Part 11

In simpler terms, she was just plain frustrated.

Groaning at her aching limbs, Siri sat up in the dark room and looked at the shadowy form in the corner. "Will you please just get on with it?" she found herself snapping.

Silence.

Siri felt her hair bleach a terrible bone white as she realized what she'd just done. She stiffened, casting her eyes down, tiredness fleeing in the face of sudden anxiety.

What had she been thinking? The G.o.d King could call servants to execute her. In fact, he didn't even need that. He could bring her own dress to life, Awakening it, making it leap on her and strangle her. He could make the rug rise up and attack her. He could probably bring the ceiling down on her, all without moving from his chair.

Siri waited, breathing with shallow anxiety, antic.i.p.ating the fury and retribution. But... nothing happened. Minutes pa.s.sed.

Finally, Siri glanced up. The G.o.d King had moved, sitting up straighter, regarding her from his darkened chair beside the bed. She could see his eyes reflecting the firelight. She couldn't make out much of his face, but he didn't seem angry. He just seemed cold and distant.

She almost cast her eyes down again, but hesitated. If snapping at him wouldn't provoke a reaction, then looking at him wasn't likely to either. So she turned her chin up and met his eyes, knowing full well that she was being foolish. Vivenna would never have provoked the man in such a way. Vivenna would have remained quiet and demure, either solving the problem or-if there was no solution-kneeling every night until her patience impressed even the G.o.d King of Hallandren.

But, Siri was not Vivenna. She was just going to have to accept that fact.

The G.o.d King continued to look at her, and Siri found herself blus.h.i.+ng. She'd knelt before him naked four nights in a row, but facing him unclothed seemed more embarra.s.sing. Still, she didn't back down. She continued to kneel, watching him, forcing herself to stay awake.

It was difficult. She was tired, and the position was actually less comfortable than bowing had been. She watched anyway, waiting, the hours pa.s.sing.

Eventually-at about the same time that he left the room every night-the G.o.d King stood up. Siri stiffened, shocked alert. However, he simply walked to the door. He tapped quietly, and it opened for him, servants apparently waiting on the other side. He stepped out and the door closed.

Siri waited tensely. No soldiers came to arrest her; no priests came to chastise her. Eventually, she just walked over to the bed and burrowed into its covers, savoring the warmth.

The G.o.d King's wrath, she thought drowsily, is decidedly less wrathful than reported.

With that, she fell asleep.

Chapter Eleven.

Vivenna-first child of Dedelin, King of Idris-gazed upon the grand city of T'Telir. It was the ugliest place she had ever seen.

People jostled about in the streets, draped flagrantly in colors, yelling, and talking, and moving, and stinking, and coughing, and b.u.mping. She pulled her shawl close, her hair lightened to gray as she continued her imitation-such that it was-of a woman of advancing years. She had thought that she might stand out. She needn't have been worried. Who could ever stand out in this mess of people?

She maintained the disguise. It was best to be safe. She had come-arriving in T'Telir just hours ago-to rescue her sister, not get to herself kidnapped.

It was a bold plan. Vivenna still had trouble believing that she'd come up with it. Still, of the many things that her tutors had taught her, one remained foremost in her mind. A leader was someone who acted. n.o.body else was going to help Siri, and so it came down to Vivenna.

She realized that she was inexperienced. She hoped that awareness would keep her from being too foolhardy. She also had the best education and political tutelage that her kingdom could provide, and much of her training had focused on life in Hallandren. She'd practiced all of her life to avoid standing out. She could hide in a ma.s.sive, unwieldy city like T'Telir.

And ma.s.sive it was. She'd memorized maps of it, but that hadn't prepared her for the sight, sound, scent, and colors of the city on market day. Even the livestock wore bright ribbons. Vivenna stood to the side of the road, stooped beside a building draped in flapping cloth. The fabric had been tied to the awning, covering it in streamers. In front of her, a herdsman drove a small flock of sheep toward the market square. They had each been dyed a different color. Won't that ruin the wool? Vivenna thought sourly. The different colors on the animals clashed so terribly that she had to look away.

Poor Siri, she thought. Caught up in all of this, locked in the Court of G.o.ds, probably so overwhelmed that she can barely think. Vivenna had been prepared to deal with the terrors of Hallandren. Though the colors sickened her, she had the fort.i.tude to withstand them. How would little Siri manage?

Vivenna pulled her shawl closer as she stood beside the building in the shadow of a large stone statue, Where is that man? she thought. Parlin had yet to return from his scouting.

There was nothing to do but wait beside the statue, one of the famous D'Denir Celabrin: a special group of statues which had been commissioned to commemorate the end of the Manywar. Most were of warriors; they stood in all poses across the entire city, armed with weapons and often dressed in colorful clothing. According to her lessons, the people of T'Telir found dressing the statues to be an amusing pastime, one that supposedly showed respect.

Lore said that the first ones had been commissioned by Peacegiver the Blessed, the Returned who had taken command of Hallandren at the end of the Manywar. The number of statues had increased each year as new ones were paid for by the Returned-whose money, of course, came from the people themselves.

Excess and waste, Vivenna thought, shaking her head.

Finally, she noticed Parlin coming back down the street. She frowned as she saw that he was wearing some ridiculous contraption on his head-it looked a little like a sock, though much larger. The bright green hat flopped down one side of his square face, and looked very out of place against his dull brown Idris traveling clothing.

Tall enough to be lanky, Parlin was only a few years Vivenna's senior. She'd known him for most of her life; General Yarda's son had practically grown up in the palace. When he hadn't been out in the forests, watching the Hallandren border, or guarding one of the northern pa.s.ses.

"Parlin?" she said as he approached, carefully keeping the annoyance out of her voice and her hair. "What is that on your head?"

"A hat," he said, characteristically terse. It wasn't that Parlin was rude; it just seemed to Vivenna that he rarely felt he had much to say.

"I can see that it's a hat, Parlin. Where did you get it?"

"The man in the market said they're very popular," Parlin noted.

Vivenna sighed. She'd hesitated to bring Parlin into the city. He was a good man-as solid as she'd ever known-but his life had been one of living in the wilderness and guarding isolated outposts. The city was probably overwhelming to him.

"The hat is ridiculous, Parlin," Vivenna said, hair controlled to keep the red out of it. "It makes you stand out."

Parlin removed the hat, tucking it in his pocket. He said nothing further, but did turn, watching the crowds of people pa.s.s. They seemed to make him as nervous as they did Vivenna. Perhaps more so. However, she was glad to have him. He was one of the few people she trusted not to go to her father; she knew that Parlin fancied her. Often, during their youths, he'd brought her gifts from the forest. Generally, they'd been some animal he'd killed.

In Parlin's opinion, nothing showed affection like a hunk of something dead and bleeding on the table.

"This place is strange," Parlin said. "People move here like herds." His eyes followed a pretty Hallandren girl as she walked by. The hussy was-like most of the women in T'Telir-wearing practically no clothing. Blouses that revealed well below the neck, skirts well above the knees-some women even wore pants, just like men.

"What did you discover in the market?" she asked, drawing his attention back.

"There are a lot of Idrians here," he said.

"What?" Vivenna said, forgetting herself and showing a bit of shock.

"Idrians," Parlin said. "In the market. Some were trading goods; many looked like common workers. I watched them."

Vivenna frowned, tapping her foot. She trusted He was as trustworthy a man as his father, and while he wasn't himself a soldier, he was an accomplished woodsman. Plus, he was rather devoted to her.

"And the restaurant?" Vivenna asked. "Did you scout it as I asked?"

He nodded. "Looks clean. Feels strange to me that people eat food made by strangers.

"Did you see anyone suspicious there?"

Parlin shook his head. "What would be 'suspicious' in this city?"

"I don't know. You're the one who insisted on scouting ahead."

"It's always a good idea when hunting. Less likely to scare away the animals."

"Unfortunately, Parlin," Vivenna said, "people aren't like animals."

"I am aware of that," Parlin said. "Animals make more sense."

Vivenna sighed. However, she did notice that Parlin had been right on at least one count. She caught sight of a group of Idrians walking down the street, one pulling a cart that had probably once held farm goods. It surprised her that they would come so far to trade. But, then, commerce hadn't been particularly robust in Idris lately.

Reluctantly, she closed her eyes and-using the shawl to hide the transformation-changed her hair from gray to brown. Then, she moved the shawl to her shoulders. Now that she knew there were Idrians in town, it was unlikely that she would stand out. Trying to act like an old woman would be more suspicious.

It still felt wrong to be exposed. In Bevalis, she would have been recognized instantly. However, Bevalis had only a few thousand people in it-and it was extremely large by Idris standards. It wasn't that the kingdom itself lacked people, they were just spread out.

No ports, she thought, nodding to Parlin and-gritting her teeth-joining the crowd and making her way toward the marketplace.

The inland sea made all the difference. T'Telir was a prime port, and the dyes it sold-made from the Tears of Edgli, a local flower-made it a popular place of trade. She could see the evidence all around her. Exotic silks and clothing. Fresh foodstuffs from cities along the coast. In Idris, the population had to be spread out to support farms and herds. In Hallandren-a country which controlled a good third of the coast of the inland sea-things could be different. They could burgeon. Grow.

Get flamboyant.

In the distance, she could see the plateau that marked the Court of G.o.ds, most profane place beneath Austre's colorful eyes. Inside its walls, within the G.o.d King's terrible palace, Siri was being held captive. She would be the prisoner of Susebron himself.

Vivenna understood, logically, why her father had done what he had. In terms of raw politics, Vivenna was more valuable to Idris. If there was going to be war for certain, then it made sense to send the less useful daughter as a stalling tactic.

It was hard for Vivenna to think of Siri as "Less Useful," however. True, the girl was frustrating-but she was Vivenna's baby sister. She was gregarious, but she'd also been the one who smiled when others were down. She was the one who brought gifts when n.o.body was expecting. She was infuriating, but innocent. And someone had to look out for her.

The G.o.d King would demand an heir. That was to have been Vivenna's duty-her sacrifice for her people. She had been prepared and willing. It felt wrong for Siri to have to do something so terrible.

Her father had made his decision; the best one for Idris. Vivenna had made her own. If there was going to be war, then Vivenna wanted to be ready to get her sister out of the city the moment it got dangerous. In fact, Vivenna felt that there had to be a way to rescue Siri before the war came-a way of fooling the Hallandrens, making them think that Siri had died. Something that would save Vivenna's sister, yet not provoke the war any further.

This wasn't the sort of thing her father could condone. So she hadn't told him. Better for him to be able to deny involvement if things went wrong.

Vivenna moved down the street, eyes downcast, careful to not draw attention to herself. Getting away from Idris had been surprisingly easy. Who would suspect such a brash move from Vivenna-she who had lived her life perfect? n.o.body questioned when she'd asked for food and supplies, explaining that she wanted to make emergency kits. n.o.body questioned when she'd proposed an expedition to the higher reaches to gather important roots, an excuse to hide the first few weeks of her disappearance.

Parlin had been easy enough to persuade. He trusted her, perhaps too much, and he had intimate knowledge of the paths and trails leading down to Hallandren. He'd been as far as the city walls on one scouting trip a year back. With him on her side, she'd been able to gather a few of his friends-also woodsmen-to protect her and be part of her 'expedition'. Instead, they'd all made the trek down from the highlands into Hallandren.

She'd sent the rest of them back earlier in the morning. They would be of little use in the city, where she had already arranged for other allies to be her protection. Parlin's friends would carry word to her father, who would already have word of what she'd done. Before leaving, she'd arranged for her maid to deliver a letter to him about the time when her disappearance would begin to grow suspicious. Counting off the days, she realized that her letter would be delivered this very evening.

She didn't know what her father's reaction would be. Perhaps he would send soldiers to retrieve her-if he did, they would have to be covert. Any large-scale rescue force would be seen as a sign of war. Perhaps he'd leave her be. In an attempt to ensure this result, she'd warned him that if she wasn't given time to a.s.sess whether or not Siri could be rescued, she would simply go to the Court of G.o.ds, explaining that there had been a mistake, and trade herself for her sister. She'd warned that if she saw any hint of Idris soldiers searching for her in the city, she'd take that step immediately.

She sincerely hoped she didn't have to. The G.o.d King was not to be trusted; he might take Vivenna captive and keep Siri, thereby providing him with two princesses to provide pleasure instead of one...

Don't think about that, Vivenna told herself, pulling her shawl closer.

Better to find another way. Fake Siri's death, or make it look like she'd been kidnapped by someone else. Even if she got Siri out but was afraid of the political complications, Vivenna could always offer herself up as a replacement.

Part of Vivenna acknowledged that there was a chance she wouldn't be able to manage any of that, and would return home to Idris on her own after a few months of trying. She'd had to come though. She had to do something, to at least try.

The first step toward any sort of plan was to find Lemks, her father's head spy in Hallandren. Vivenna had corresponded with him on several occasions. Her father had wanted her to be familiar with the chief Idris intelligence agent in T'Telir, should she need him during her life in the city. Her father's foresight would work against him. Lemks knew Vivenna, and had been told to take orders from her. The spy wouldn't question her-indeed, he hadn't questioned when Vivenna had sent him a letter to request a meeting. Her messenger had left Idris just before she herself, but had been able to travel much faster. Lemks's reply to her had come when she was still a few days out of T'Telir.

A meeting arranged. In a restaurant at the market. It sounded logical. Her plan seemed good. She was prepared. Why, then, did she feel so utterly daunted when she entered the market?

She stood quietly, a rock in the flow of human traffic down the street. Nothing had adequately prepared her for the sight of such an enormous swath of land, covered in tents, pens, buildings, and people. There didn't appear to be much reason or direction to the organization. There were no cobblestones here, only sand and dirt with the occasional patch of gra.s.s. The streets appeared to have simply been made where people felt like going.

Merchants yelled out what they sold, banners waved in the wind, and entertainers vied for attention. It was an orgy of color and motion.

"Wow," Parlin said quietly.

Vivenna turned, shaking off her stupor. "Didn't you just come here?"

"Yeah," Parlin said, eyes a little glazed over. "Wow again."

Vivenna shook her head. "Let's go to the restaurant."

Parlin nodded. "This way."

Vivenna followed him, annoyed at herself. This was Hallandren-she shouldn't be awed by it. She should be disgusted. Yet she felt almost too overwhelmed to be disgusted. It was hard to feel anything beyond a slight sense of sickness. She'd never realized how much she took for granted Idris' beautiful simplicity.

Parlin did a good job of leading her through the throng-his height made him easy to keep track of, and his familiar presence was welcome as the overload of scents, sounds, and sights tried to drown her. In some places the crowds grew so thick that they practically had to shove their way through. On occasion, Vivenna found herself on the edge of panic, pressed in by dirty, repulsively colored bodies.

Blessedly, the restaurant wasn't too far in. It had a picture of a boat sailing merrily on its board, and if the scents coming from inside were any indication, then the s.h.i.+p represented the restaurant's cuisine: Fish. She barely kept herself from gagging. She'd eaten fish several times in preparation for her life in Hallandren. She'd never grown to like it.

Parlin walked, immediately stepping to the side and crouching, almost like a wolf, as he let his eyes adjust to the dimness. Vivenna gave the restaurant keeper the fake name Lemks had indicated in his letter. The restaurant keeper eyed Parlin, then shrugged and led the two of them to one of the tables on the far side of the room. Vivenna sat down at the table, a little uncertain what one did at a restaurant despite her training. It said something meaningful to her that places like restaurants could exist in Hallandren-places meant to feed not travelers, but the local population who couldn't be bothered to dine at their own homes.

Parlin didn't sit, but remained standing beside her seat, watching the room. He looked as tense as she felt. "Vivenna," he said softly, leaning down. "Your hair."

She started, realizing that her hair had lightened slightly from the trauma of pus.h.i.+ng her way through the crowd. It hadn't bleached completely white -she was far too well trained for that. It had grown somewhat whiter, like it had been powdered.

Feeling a jolt of paranoia, Vivenna replaced the shawl on her head, looking away as the restaurant owner approached to take their order. A short list of meals was scratched into the table, and Parlin finally sat down, drawing the restaurant owner's attention.

You're better than this, she told herself sternly. You've studied Hallandren for most of your life. You can deal with this.

Her hair darkened again, returning to its brown. The change was subtle enough that if someone had been watching, they would have probably thought it to be a trick of the light. She kept the shawl up, feeling ashamed. One walk through the market, and she lost control? What was wrong with her?

Think of Siri, she told herself. That gave her strength. Her mission was impromptu, even reckless, but it was important. Calm once again, she put the shawl back down and waited while Parlin chose a dish-a seafood stew-and the innkeeper walked away.

"Now what?" Parlin asked.

"We wait," Vivenna said. "Lemks said he'd check the restaurant each day at noon. It is approaching noon. We will sit here until he arrives."

Parlin nodded, fidgeting slightly.

"What is it?" Vivenna asked calmly.

He glanced toward the door. "I don't trust this place, Vivenna. I can't smell anything but bodies and spices, can't hear anything but the chatter of people. There's no wind, no rivers, just... people."

"I know," she said.