Warbreaker Part 2

"Too late," Yarda said, grimacing and nodding toward the window. Just outside, people scattered in the courtyard as a figure galloped through the gates. She wore a deep brown cloak that bordered on being too colorful, and-of course-she had her hair down.

The hair was yellow.

Dedelin felt his rage and frustration growing. Only Siri could make him lose control, and-as if in ironic counterpoint to the source of his anger-he felt his hair change. To those watching, a few locks of hair on his head would have bled from black to red. It was the identifying mark of the royal family, who had fled to the Idris Highlands at the climax of the Manywar. Others could hide their emotions. The royals, however, manifest what they felt in the very hair on their heads.

Vivenna watched him, pristine as always, and her poise gave him strength as he forced his hair to turn black again. It took more willpower than any common man could understand to control the treasonous royal locks. Dedelin wasn't sure how Vivenna managed it so well.

Poor girl never even had a childhood, he thought. From birth, Vivenna's life had been pointed toward this single event. His firstborn child, the girl who had always seemed like a piece of himself. The girl who had always made him proud; the woman who had already earned the love and respect of her people. In his mind's eye he saw the queen she could be come, stronger even than he. Someone who could guide them through the dark days ahead.

But only if she survived that long.

"I will prepare myself for the trip," Vivenna said, rising.

"No," Dedelin said.

Yarda and Vivenna both turned.

"Father," Vivenna said. "If we break this treaty, it will mean war. I am prepared to sacrifice for our people. You taught me that."

"You will not go," Dedelin said firmly, turning back toward the window. Outside, Siri was laughing with one of the stablemen. Dedalin could hear her outburst even from a distance; her hair had turned a flame-colored red. He felt his own hair bleeding slightly white.

Lord G.o.d of Colors, forgive me, he thought. What a terrible choice for a father to make. But... anything for my kingdom. Or, at least, almost anything.

Dedelin turned back toward the room. "Vivenna, you will not go to wed the tyrant G.o.d of our enemies. I'm sending your sister in your place."

Chapter Two.

Siri sat, stunned, in a rattling carriage, her homeland growing more and more distant.

Two days had pa.s.sed, and she still didn't understand. This was supposed to be Vivenna's task. Everybody understood that. Idris had thrown a celebration on the day of Vivenna's birth. The king had put her into lessons from the day she could walk, training her in the ways of court life and politics. Fafen, the second daughter, had taken the lessons in case Vivenna died before the day of the wedding. But not Siri. She'd been redundant. Unimportant. Just the way she liked it.

No more.

She glanced out the window. Her father had sent the kingdom's nicest carriage-along with an honor guard of twenty soldiers-to bear her southward. That, mixed with a steward and several serving boys, made for a procession as grand as Siri had ever seen. It bordered on ostentation, which might have thrilled her, had it not been bearing her away from Idris.

This isn't the way it's supposed to be, she thought. This isn't the way any of it is supposed to happen!

And yet, it had.

It couldn't have.

Nothing made sense. The carriage b.u.mped, but she just sat, numb. At the very least, she thought, they could have let me ride horseback, rather than forcing me to sit in this carriage. That, unfortunately, wouldn't have been an appropriate way to enter Hallandren.

Hallandren.

She felt her hair bleach white with fear. She was being sent to Hallandren, a kingdom her people cursed with every second breath. She wouldn't see her father again for a long while, if ever. She wouldn't speak with Vivenna, or listen to the tutors, or be chided by Mab, or ride the royal horses, or go looking for flowers in the wilderness, or work in the kitchens. She'd...

Marry the G.o.d King. The terror of Hallandren, the monster that had never drawn a living breath. In Hallandren, his power was absolute. He could order an execution on a whim.

I'll be safe, though, won't I? she thought. I'll be his wife.

Wife. I'm getting married.

Oh Austre, G.o.d of Colors... She thought with sickness. She curled up with her legs against her chest-her hair growing so white that it seemed to s.h.i.+ne-and lay down on the seat of the carriage, feeling herself shake as it continued its inevitable path southward.

"I think that you should reconsider your decision, Father," Vivenna said calmly, sitting-as she'd been trained-with hands in her lap.

"I've considered and reconsidered, Vivenna," King Dedalin said, waving his hand. "My mind is made up."

"Siri is not suited to this task."

"She'll do fine," her father said, looking through some papers on his desk. "All she really needs to do is have a baby. I'm certain she's 'suited' to that task."

What then of my training? Vivenna thought. Twenty-two years of preparation? What was that, if the only point in being sent was to provide a convenient womb?

She kept her hair black, her voice solemn, her face calm. "Siri must be very distraught," she said. "I do not think she's emotionally capable of dealing with this."

Her father looked up, his hair fading a bit red-the black bleeding away like paint running off a canvas. It showed his annoyance.

He's more distraught by her departure than he's willing to admit.

"This is for the best of our people, Vivenna," her father said, working-with obvious effort-to turn his hair black again. "If war comes, Idris will need you here to lead."

"If war comes, what of Siri?"

Her father fell silent. "Perhaps it won't come," he finally said.

Austre... Vivenna thought with shock. He doesn't believe that. He thinks he's sent her to her death.

"I know what you are thinking," her father said, drawing her attention back to his eyes. So solemn. "How could I choose one over the other? How could I send Siri to die and leave you here to live. I didn't do it based on personal preference, no matter what people may think. I did what was best for Idris when this war comes."

When this war comes. Vivenna looked up, meeting his eyes. "I was going to stop the war, Father. I was to be the G.o.d King's bride! I was going to speak with him, persuade him. I've been trained with the political knowledge, the understanding of customs, the-"

"Stop the war?" her father asked, cutting in. Only then did Vivenna realize how brash she must have sounded. She looked away.

"Vivenna, child," her father said. "There is no stopping this war. Only the promise of a daughter of the Royal line kept them away this long. If I'd refused to send one, they would have attacked immediately. Sending Siri may buy us time. Who knows. Perhaps I've sent her to safety. Perhaps they will value her bloodline to the point that they leave her alive-a back up should the heir she bears pa.s.s away."

He grew distant. "Yes," he continued, "perhaps it is not Siri we should be fearing for, but..."

But ourselves, Vivenna finished in her mind. She was not privy to all of her father's war planning, but she knew enough. War would not favor Idris. In a conflict with Hallandren, there was little chance they would win. It would be devastating for their people and their way of life.

"Father, I- "Please, Vivenna," he said quietly. "I cannot speak of this further. Go now. We will discuss later."

Later. After Siri had traveled even further away, after it would be much more difficult to bring her back without looking the fools. Yet, Vivenna rose. She was obedient; it was the way she had been trained. That was one of the things that had always separated her from her sister.

She left her father's study, closing the door behind her, then walked through the wooden palace hallways, pretending that she didn't see the stares or hear the whispers. She made her way to her room-which was in a small, unadorned palace corner-and sat down on her bed, hands in her lap.

She didn't agree at all with her father's a.s.sessment. She could have done something. She was to have been the G.o.d King's bride. That would have given her influence, in the court, wouldn't it? Everyone knew that the G.o.d King himself was distant when it came to the politics of his nation, but surely his wife could have played a role in defending the interests of her people.

And her father had thrown that away?

He really must believe that there is nothing that can be done to stop the invasion. That turned Siri into simply another political maneuver to buy time. Something Idris had been doing for decades.

And... so what if that was all that Siri would do? If the sacrifice of a Royal daughter to the Hallandren was that important, then it still should have been Vivenna's place to go. It had always been her duty to prepare for her marriage to the G.o.d King. Not Siri's, not Fafen's. Vivenna's. It was her place to sacrifice for her people.

In being saved, she didn't feel grateful. Nor did she feel that she would better serve Idris. If her father died, Yarda would be far better suited to rule during wartime than Vivenna. Besides, Ridger-Vivenna's younger brother-had been groomed as heir for years.

She had been preserved for no reason. It seemed a punishment, in some ways. She'd listened, prepared, learned, and practiced. Everyone said that was perfect. Why, then, wasn't she good enough to serve in her place?

She had no good answer for herself. She could simply sit and fret, hands in her lap, and face the awful truth. Her purpose in life had been stolen and given to another. She was redundant now. Useless.

Unimportant.

"What was he thinking!" Siri snapped, hanging half out the window of her carriage as it bounced along. A young soldier marched beside the vehicle, looking uncomfortable in the afternoon light.

"I mean really," Siri said. "Sending me to be married to the Hallandren king. That's silly, isn't it? Surely you've heard about the kinds of things I do. Wandering off when n.o.body's looking. Ignoring my lessons. I throw angry fits, for Color's sake-and not just when I've been exiled to some Lifeless monster's bed!"

The guard glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, but otherwise gave no reaction. Siri didn't really care. She hung precariously from the window, feeling the wind play with her hair-long, red, straight-and stoking her anger. Fury kept her from weeping.

The green spring hills of the Idris highlands had slowly faded away as the days had pa.s.sed. In fact, they were probably in Hallandren already-the border between the two kingdoms was vague, which wasn't surprising, considering that they'd been one nation up until the Manywar.

She eyed the poor guard-whose only way of dealing with a raving princess appeared to be by ignoring her. Then she finally slumped back into the carriage. She shouldn't have treated him so, she knew. But, well, she'd just been sold off like some hunk of mutton-ransomed by a doc.u.ment that had been written years before she'd even been born. If anyone had a right to a tantrum, it was Siri.

Maybe that's the reason for all of this, she thought, crossing her arms on the windowsill. Maybe father was tired of my tantrums, and just wanted to get rid of me.

That seemed a little far-fetched. There were easier ways to deal with Siri-ways that didn't include sending her to represent Idris in a foreign court. Why send her, then? Did he really think she'd do a good job?

That gave her pause for a moment. Then she considered how ridiculous it was. Her father wouldn't have a.s.sumed that she'd do a better job than Vivenna. n.o.body did anything better than Vivenna.

Siri sighed, feeling her hair turn a pensive brown. She turned from her frustrations an let herself get distracted by the pa.s.sing landscape. At least it was interesting. Hallandren was in the lowlands, a place of tropical forests and strange, colorful animals. Siri had heard the descriptions from ramblemen, and even read of the forests in the occasional book she'd been forced to read.

She'd figured she knew what to expect. Yet, as the hills gave way to deep gra.s.slands and the trees finally began to sprout up, Siri had begun to realize that there was something no tome or tale could adequately describe.

Colors.

In the highlands, flowers flower patches were rare and unconnected, as if they understood how poorly they fit with Idris philosophy. Here, they appeared to be everywhere. Tiny flowers grew in great blanketing swaths on the ground. Large, drooping blossoms hung from trees. Even the weeds appeared to have flowers. Siri would have picked some of them, if not for the way that the soldiers regarded them with hostility.

If I feel this anxious, she realized, they must feel more so. She wasn't the only one who had been sent away from family and friends. When would these men be allowed to return? Ever? Suddenly, she felt even more guilty for subjecting the young soldier to her outburst.

I'll send them back when I arrive, she thought. Then she immediately felt her hair grow white. Sending the men back would leave her alone in a city filled with Lifeless, Awakeners, and pagans.

Yet, what good would twenty soldiers do her? Better that someone, at least, be allowed to return home.

"One would think," Fafen said, "that you would be happy. After all, you no longer have to marry a tyrant."

Vivenna plopped a berry into her basket, then moved on to a different bush. Fafen worked on one nearby. She wore the white robes of a monk, her hair completely shorn. Fafen was the middle sister in almost every way-midway between Siri and Vivenna in height, less proper than Vivenna, yet hardly as careless as Siri. Fafen was a bit curvier than either of them, which had earned her the eye of several young men in the village. However, the fact that they would have to become monks themselves if they wanted to marry her kept them in check.

If Fafen noticed how popular she was, she'd never shown it. She'd made the decision to become a monk before her tenth birthday, and her father had wholeheartedly approved. Every family was traditionally obligated to provide one person for the monasteries. It was against the Five Visions to be selfish, even with one's own blood.

The two sisters continued to work, gathering berries which Fafen would later distribute to those in need. The monk's fingers were dyed slightly red by the work. Vivenna wore gloves. That much color on her hands would be unseemly.

"Yes," Fafen said, "I do think you're taking this all wrong. Why, you act as if you want to go down and be married to that Lifeless monster."

"He's not Lifeless," Vivenna said. "Susebron is Returned, and there is a large difference."

"Yes, but he's a false G.o.d. Besides, everyone knows what a terrible creature he is."

"But it was my place to go and marry him. That is who I am, Fafen. Without it, I am nothing."

"Nonsense," Fafen said. "You'll inherit now, instead of Ridger."

Thereby unsettling the order of things even further, Vivenna thought. What right do I have to take his place from him? She didn't want to be queen. She just wanted to do what she'd been born, trained, and crafted to do.

She allowed the conversation to lapse, however. She'd been arguing the point for several minutes now, and it wouldn't be polite to continue. Polite. Rarely before had Vivenna felt so frustrated at having to be polite. Her emotions were was growing rather... inconvenient.

She kept her hair black and her thoughts to herself. Fafen made good points-points that any Idrian would have made. n.o.body would want to go and marry the G.o.d King. Vivenna should be relieved that she didn't have to.

And yet, she wasn't.

"What of Siri?" she found herself saying. "You're happy that this happened to her?"

Fafen looked up, then frowned a little to herself. She had a tendency to avoid thinking things through unless she was confronted with them directly. Vivenna felt a little ashamed for making such a blunt comment, but with Fafen, there often wasn't any other way.

"You do have a point," Fafen said. "I don't see why anyone had to be sent."

"The treaty," Vivenna said. "It protects our people."

"Austre protects our people," Fafen said, moving on to another bush.

Will he protect Siri? Vivenna though. Poor, innocent, capricious Siri. She'd never learned to control herself; she'd be eaten alive in the Hallandren Court of G.o.ds. Siri wouldn't understand the politics, the backstabbing, the false faces and lies.

She would also be forced to bear Susebron's child, the next G.o.d King of Hallandren. Performing that duty was not something Vivenna had looked forward to. It would have been a sacrifice. Yet it would have been her sacrifice, given willingly for the safety of her people. Even if her father was right and the war did come, even if that meant her execution by the Hallandren in an attempt to crush Idrian morale, she would have given it.

Such thoughts continued to pester Vivenna as she and Fafen finished with the berry picking, then moved down the hillside back toward the village. Fafen, like all monks, dedicated all of her work to the good of the people. She watched flocks, harvested food, and cleaned houses for those who could not do it themselves.