Warbreaker Part 54

The sword in Vasher's hand was obviously enough to ward the girl away. Vivenna watched her scurry down an alleyway, feeling an odd sense of connection.

Colors, she thought. Was that really me?

No. She hadn't even been as capable as that girl. Vivenna had been so naive that she'd been kidnapped without knowing it, then worked to start a war without realizing what she was doing.

Didn't you ever stop to think that maybe you were on the wrong side?

She wasn't sure what to believe. She'd been taken in so quickly by Denth that she was very hesitant to accept anything this Vasher said. However, she could see signs that some of what he had told her were true.

Denth had always taken her to meet with the less reputable elements in the city. Not only were they the ones a mercenary like him would know, but they would be more likely to prefer the chaos of war. Attacking the Hallandren supplies wouldn't only make it more difficult to administer the war, it would make the priests more likely to attack. While they were still strong. The losses would also serve to make them more angry.

It made chilling sense-sense it was hard for her to ignore. "Denth made me think that the war was inevitable," Vivenna whispered as they walked through the slums. "My father thinks it's inevitable. Everyone says it's going to happen."

"They're wrong," Vasher said. "War between Hallandren and Idris has been close for decades, but never inevitable. Getting this kingdom to attack requires convincing the Returned-and they're generally too focused on themselves to worry about something as disruptive as a war. Only an extended effort-first convincing the priests, then getting them to argue until the G.o.ds believed them-would be successful."

They fell silent. Vivenna stared ahead down the dirty streets with their colorful refuse. "I really am useless, aren't I?" she whispered.

Vasher glanced over at her.

"First, my father sent my sister to marry the G.o.d King instead of me. I followed, but I didn't even know what I was doing-Denth took me in on the very first day I was here. When I finally escaped him, I couldn't make it a month on the street without getting robbed, beaten, and then captured. Now you claim that I've single-handedly thrown my people into war."

Vasher snorted. "Don't give yourself too much credit. Denth has been working on this war for a long time. From what I hear, he corrupted the Idris amba.s.sador himself. Plus there are elements in the Hallandren government-the ones who hired Denth-who want this conflict to happen."

It seemed so muddy. What he said made sense, but Denth had made sense too. She needed to know more. "Do you have any guesses who they might be? The ones who hired Denth?"

Vasher shrugged. "One of the G.o.ds, I think-or perhaps a cabal of them. Maybe a group of priests, working on their own."

They fell silent again.

"Why?" Vivenna finally asked.

"How should I know?" Vasher asked. "I can't even figure out who's behind it."

"No," Vivenna said. "Not that. I mean, why are you involved? Why do you care?"

"Because," Vasher said.

"Because why?"

Vasher sighed. "Look, Princess. I'm not like Denth; I don't have his ability with words, and I don't really like people in the first place. Don't expect me to chat with you. All right?"

Vivenna closed her mouth sharply. If he's trying to manipulate me, she thought, he has a very strange way of doing it.

Their destination turned out to be a run-down building on the corner of a run-down intersection. As they approached, Vivenna paused to wonder exactly how slums like this one came to exist. Did people build them cramped and shoddy on purpose, or had these streets once been a richer section of town that had fallen into disrepair?

Vasher grabbed her arm as she stood there, then pulled her up to the door, upon which he pounded on with the hilt of his sword. The door creaked open a second later, and a pair of nervous eyes glanced out.

"Get out of the way," Vasher said, testily shoving the door open the rest of the way and pulling Vivenna inside. A young man stumbled back, pressing up against the wall of the hallway and letting Vasher and Vivenna pa.s.s. He closed the door behind them.

Vivenna felt as if she should be frightened, or at least angry, at the treatment. However, after what she had been through, it just didn't seem like much. Vasher let go of her and thumped his way down a set of stairs. Vivenna followed more carefully, the dark stairwell reminding her of the cellar in Denth's hideout. She s.h.i.+vered, and might have paused, save for the fact that the young man was following behind.

At the bottom, fortunately, the similarities between cellars ended. This one had a wooden floor and walls. A rug sat in the middle of the room and a group of men sat on the ground. A couple them rose as Vasher rounded the stairs.

"Vasher!" one said. "Welcome. Do you want something to drink?"

"No."

The men glanced uncomfortably at each other as Vasher tossed his sword toward the side of the room. It hit with a clank, skidding on the wood. Then he reached back and pulled Vivenna forward.

"Hair," he said.

She hesitated. He was using her just like Denth had. Yet, rather than make him angry, she obliged, changing the color of her hair. The men watched with awe, then several of them bowed their heads. "Princess," one whispered.

"Tell them you don't want them to go to war," Vasher said.

"I don't," she said honestly. "I have never wanted my people to fight Hallandren. They would lose, almost certainly."

The men turned to Vasher. "But she was working with the slum lords. Why did she change her mind?"

Vasher looked at her. "Well?"

Why did she change her mind? Had she changed her mind? It was all too quick.

"I... " she said. "I'm sorry. I... didn't realize. I've never wanted war. I thought it was inevitable, and so I tried to plan for it. I might have been manipulated, though."

Vasher nodded, then pushed her aside. He left her and joined the men as they sat back on the rug. Vivenna remained where she was. She wrapped her hands around herself, feeling the unfamiliar cloth of the tunic and coat.

These men are Idrians, she realized, listening to their accents. And now they've seen me, their princess, wearing a man's clothing. How is it that I can still care about such things, considering everything else that is happening?

"All right," Vasher said, squatting. "What are you doing to stop this?"

"Wait," one of the men said. "You expect that to change our minds? A few words from the princess, and we're supposed to believe everything you've been telling us?"

"If Hallandren goes to war, you're dead," Vasher snapped. "Can't you see that? What do you think will happen to the Idrians in these slums? You think things are bad now, wait until you're seen as sympathizers with the enemy."

"We know that, Vasher," another said. "But what do you expect us to do? Submit to Hallandren treatment of us? Cave in and wors.h.i.+p their indolent G.o.ds?"

"I don't really care what you do," Vasher said, "as long as it doesn't involve threatening the security of the Hallandren government."

"Maybe we should just admit that war is coming and fight," another said. "Maybe the slum lords are right. Maybe the best thing to do is hope that Idris wins."

"They hate us," another of them said, a man in his twenties with anger in his eyes. "They treat us worse than they do the statues in their streets! We're less than Lifeless, to them."

I know that anger, Vivenna realized. I felt it. Feel it still. Anger at Hallandren.

The man's words rang hollow to her now. The truth was, she hadn't really felt any ire from the Hallandren people. If anything, she'd felt indifference. She was just another body on the street to them.

Perhaps that's why she hated them. She'd worked all of her life to become something important for them-she'd been dominated by the beast that was Hallandren and its G.o.d King. And then, in the end, the city and its people had simply ignored her. She didn't matter to them. And that was infuriating.

"Too much has happened already," one of the older men was saying. "The people are angry. We can't stop the riots, Vasher. Not after that slaughter a few weeks back."

Vasher pounded the floor with a fist. "That's what they want! Can't you fool see that you're giving your enemies perfect scapegoats? Those Lifeless that attacked the slum weren't given their orders by the government. Someone slipped a few broken Lifeless into the group with orders to kill so that the things would turn bad!"

What? Vivenna thought.

"The Hallandren theocracy is a bulky thing laden with bureaucratic foolishness," Vasher said. "It never moves unless someone prompts it! If we have riots in the street, that will be just what the war faction needs."

I could help him, Vivenna thought, watching the reactions of the Idrians. She knew them while Vasher obviously didn't. He made good arguments, but he needed more. He needed credibility, more than simply tossing her out had gained him.

She could help. But should she?

Vivenna didn't know what to think anymore. If Vasher was right, she'd been manipulated and played the entire time she'd been with Denth. She knew, at least, that Denth had been lying to her. That she'd discovered on her own. But what was to say that Vasher wasn't doing the same thing?

Did she want war? No, of course she didn't. Particularly not a war Idris would have a very hard time surviving, let alone winning. Vivenna had worked so hard to undermine Hallandren's ability to wage war. Why hadn't she ever considered trying to head it off.

I did, she realized. That was my original plan when I was back in Idris. I'd intended to talk the G.o.d King out of war when I became his bride.

She'd given up on that plan. No, she'd been manipulated into giving up on it. Either by her father's sense of inevitability or by Denth's subtlety, it didn't really matter.

Her initial instinct had been to prevent the conflict. That was the best way to protect Idris; that was-she realized-also the best way to protect Siri. She'd practically given up on saving her sister, focusing on her own hates and arrogance instead.

Stopping the war wouldn't protect Siri from being abused by the G.o.d King. But it would probably keep her from being used as a p.a.w.n or a hostage. It would save her life.

That was enough for Vivenna. It's what she should have been focused on all along: save Idris, save Siri.

"It's too late," one of the men said.

"No," Vivenna said. "Please."

The men in the circle paused, looking over at her. She walked back to the circle then knelt before them. "Please do not say such things."

"But princess," one of the men said, "what can we do? The slum lords rile the people to anger. We have no power compared to them."

"You must have some influence," she said. "You seem like men of wisdom."

"We're fathers and workers," another said. "We have no riches."

"But people listen to you?" she asked.

"Some do."

"Then tell them that there are more options," Vivenna said, bowing her head. "Tell them to be stronger than I was. Te Idrians here in the slums-I've seen their strength. If you tell them that they're being used, maybe they can avoid being used."

The men fell silent.

"I don't know if everything this man says is true," she said, nodding to Vasher. "But I do know that Idris will not win this war. We should be doing everything we can to slow a conflict, not to encourage one." She felt a tear on her cheek, and her hair had grown a pale white. "You can see. I... no longer have the control a princess and follower of Austre should show. I am a shame to you, but please don't let my failure doom you. The Hallandrens don't hate us. They barely even notice us. I know this is frustrating, but if you make them notice you by rioting and destroying, they will only be shaken into anger against our homeland."

"So we should just roll over?" the younger man asked. "Let them step on us? What does it matter if they do it unintentionally? We still get smashed."

"No," Vivenna said. "There must be a better way. An Idrian is their queen, now. Perhaps, if we give them time, they will get over their prejudice. We must focus our energies now on keeping them from attacking!"

"Your words make sense, Princess," said one of the elder men in the room. "But-and forgive me for my ostentation-we here find it difficult to care about Idris much anymore. It has abandoned us and we can't really go back."

"We are Idrians," one of the others said. "But... well, our families here are more important."

A month ago, Vivenna would have been offended by this talk. A short time on the streets, however, had shown a little of what desperation could do to a person. What was Idris to them if their families starved? She could not blame them for their att.i.tudes.

"You think things will fare better for you here if Idris is conquered?" Vasher asked. "If there's war, you'll be treated even worse than you are now."

"There are other options," Vivenna said. "I know of your plight here now. If I return to my father and explain it, perhaps we can work out a way to return you to Idris."

"Return us to Idris?" one of the men said. "My family has been here in Hallandren now for fifty years!"

"Yes, but as long as the King of Idris lives," Vivenna said, "you have an ally. We can work with diplomacy to make things better for you here."

"The king doesn't care about us," another said softly.

"I care," Vivenna said.

And she did. She found it strange, but a piece of her felt more of a kins.h.i.+p with the Idrians in the city than she did with those she had left. She understood."

"We must find a way to bring attention to your hards.h.i.+ps without bringing hatred as well," she said. " We will find a way. As I said, my sister is married to the G.o.d King himself. If we can get her attention, perhaps he can be persuaded to improve the slums. Not because he's afraid of the violence our people might cause, but because of the pity he feels for their situation."

She continued to kneel, feeling ashamed before these men. Ashamed to be crying, to be seen in the immodest clothing and with ragged, short hair. Ashamed to have failed them so soundly.

How could I fail so easily? she thought. I, who was supposed to be in control. How could I be so angry that I ignored my people's needs just because I wanted to see Hallandren pay?

"She is sincere," one of the men finally said. "I will give her that."

"I don't know," said another. "I still feel it's too late."

"If that's the case," Vivenna said, still looking at the floor, "what do you have to lose? Think of the lives you could save. I promise. Idris will not forget you any longer. If you make peace with Hallandren, I will make certain that you are seen as heroes back in our homeland."

"Heroes, eh?" one of them said. "It would be nice to be known as a hero, rather than the one who left the highlands to live in brazen Hallandren."

"Please," Vivenna whispered.

"I'll see what I can do," one of the men said, standing.

Several of the others voiced agreement. They stood as well, shaking hands with Vasher. Vivenna remained kneeling as they left.

Eventually, the room was empty save for her and Vasher. He sat down across from her.

"Thanks," he said.

"I didn't do it for you," she whispered.

"Get up," he said. "Let's go. I want to meet with someone else."