Warbreaker Part 30

Vivenna smiled, then withdrew, walking to the stairs.

Jewels started laughing. Vivenna stopped, glancing back.

"You think you understand me?" Jewels asked. "What? You feel sorry for me because I'm a Drab?"

"Your parents shouldn't have done what they did."

"My parents served our G.o.d King," Jewels said. "My Breath was given to him directly. It's a greater honor than you could possibly understand."

Vivenna stood quietly for a moment, absorbing that comment. "You believe in the Iridescent Tones?"

"Of course I do," Jewels said. "I'm a Hallandren, aren't I?"

"But the others-"

"Tonk Fah is from Pahn Kahl," Jewels said. "And I don't know where in the Colors Denth is from. But I'm from T'Telir itself."

"But surely you can't still wors.h.i.+p those... G.o.ds," Vivenna said. "Not after what was done to you."

"What was done to me? Well, Princess perfect, I'll have you know that I gave away my breath willingly."

"You were a child!"

"I was eleven and my parents gave me the choice. I made the right one. My father had been in the dye industry, but had slipped and fallen. The damage to his back wouldn't let him work, and my family had six children. By selling my Breath, we got enough money to live for nearly a year!"

"No price is worth a soul," Vivenna said. "You-"

"Stop judging me!" Jewels snapped. "You don't know anything, little Idrian. Do you know what it's like to watch your brothers and sisters starve? My parents had already sold their Breath to get enough money to start the business, years before. But it was more than that. I was proud to sell my breath! I still am. A piece of me lives inside of the G.o.d King. Because of me, he continues to live. I'm part of this kingdom in a way that few others are."

Jewels shook her head, turning away. "That's why we get annoyed by you Idrians. So high. So certain that what you do is right. If your G.o.d asked you to give up your Breath-or even the Breath of your child-wouldn't you do it? You give up your children to become monks, forcing them into a life of servitude. That's seen as a sign of faith. Yet when we do something to revere our G.o.ds, you twist your lips at us and call us blasphemers."

Vivenna opened her mouth, but could come up with no response to that. Sending children away to become monks was different.

"We sacrifice for our G.o.ds," Jewels said, still staring out the window. "But that doesn't mean we're being exploited. My family was blessed because of what we did. Not only was there enough money to buy food, but my father recovered, and a few years later, he was able to open up the business again. My brothers still run it.

"You don't have to believe in my miracles. You can call them coincidences, if you must. But don't pity me for my faith. And don't presume that you're better, just because you believe something different."

Vivenna closed her mouth. Obviously, there was no point in arguing. Jewels was in no mood to receive sympathy. Vivenna retreated back up the stairs.

A few hours later, it began to grow dark. Vivenna stood on the house's second-story balcony, looking out over the city. Most of the buildings on her street row had such balconies on the front. Ostentatious or not, they did provide a good view of T'Telir.

The city glowed with light. On the larger streets, lamps lined the sidewalks, lit each night by city workers. Many of the buildings glowed as well. Such expenditure of oil and candles still amazed her. Yet with the inner sea so close, oil was far cheaper than it was in the highlands.

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

Vivenna was caught. The Five Visions taught her to understand others. They told her not to place herself above others. 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. Perhaps another might have laughed at the turmoil, but Vivenna had always tried so hard to be devout. She'd known she'd need devotion to survive in heathen Hallandren.

Heathen. Wasn't calling it heathen to place herself above it? But they were heathen. She couldn't accept the Returned as true G.o.ds. It seemed that to believe in any faith was to become arrogant.

Perhaps she deserved the things Jewels had said about her.

Someone approached. Vivenna turned as Denth pushed open the wooden door and stepped out onto the balcony. "We're back," he noted.

"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," Denth noted. "Frustration. 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, n.o.body was looking. Considering the guards they put there every night, they must be feeling pretty stupid to have been robbed in the middle of the day."

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

"Not his shop," Denth said. "His storages. 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..."

"Cold?" 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 s.h.i.+p 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. 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, watching out over the city.

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

"As pa.s.sionately 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 G.o.ds. Talk to them, watch them s.h.i.+ne. Isn't all that tough to understand."

"But she's working for an Idrian," Vivenna said. "Working to undermine her own G.o.ds' 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. Mindset 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 G.o.ds."

"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 that the metallurgist fears that the iron he purifies will end up making a sword that kills a friend of his?"

Vivenna stared out over the lights of the city with all of its people moving about. With all of their different beliefs, different ways of thinking, different contradictions. Perhaps she wasn't the only one who struggled to believe two seemingly opposing things at the same time.

"What about you, Denth?" she asked. "Are you Hallandren?"

"G.o.ds, no," he said.

"Then what do you believe?"

"Haven't believed much," he said. "Not in a long time."

"What about your family?" Vivenna asked. "What did they believe?"

"Family's all dead. They believed faiths that most everybody has forgotten by now. I never joined them."

Vivenna frowned. "You have to believe in something. If not a religion, then somebody. A way of living."

"I did once."

"Do you always have to answer everything so vaguely?"

He glanced at her. "Yes," he said. "Except, perhaps, for that question."

She rolled her eyes.

He leaned against the banister. "The things I believed," he said, "I don't know that they'd make sense, or that you'd even hear me out if I told you about them."

"You claim to follow money," she said. "But you don't. I've seen Lemks' ledgers. He wasn't paying you that much. Not by far as much as I'd a.s.sumed. And, if you'd wanted, you could have hit that priest's carriage and taken the money. You could have stolen it twice as easily as you did the salt."

He didn't respond.

"You don't follow any kingdom or king I can figure out," she continued. "You're a better swordsman than any simple bodyguard-I suspect better than almost anyone, if you can impress a crime boss with your skill so easily. You could have fame, students, and prizes if you decided to become a sport duelist.

"You claim to listen to your employer," she continued, "but it seems you give the orders more often than take them-and plus, since you don't care about money, that whole employer thing is probably just a front."

She paused. "In fact," she said, "the only thing I've ever seen you express even half an emotion about is that man. Vasher. The one with the sword."

Even as she said the name, Denth grew more tense.

"Who are you?" she asked.

He turned toward her, eyes hard, showing her-once again-that the jovial man he kept outside was a mask. A charade. A softness to cover the rock within.

"I'm a mercenary," he said.

"All right," she said, "then who were you?"

"You don't want to know the answer to that," he said. And then he left, stomping away through the door and leaving her alone on the dark wooden balcony.

Chapter Twenty-Six.

Lightsong awoke and climbed immediately from bed. He stood up, stretched, and smiled. "Beautiful day," he said.

His servants stood at the edges of the room, watching uncertainly.

"What?" Lightsong asked, holding out his arms. "Come on, let's get dressed."

They rushed forward. Llarimar entered a shortly. Lightsong often wondered how early he got up, since he was always there, dressed and ready, each morning when Lightsong rose.

Llarimar watched him with a raised eyebrow. "You're... chipper this morning, your grace."

Lightsong shrugged. "It just felt like it was time to get up."

"A full hour earlier than usual."

Lightsong c.o.c.ked his head as the servants tied off his robes. "Really?"

"Yes, your grace."