Warbreaker Chapter Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Vivenna's hair bleached a cool, stark white.

Think! she told herself. You've been trained in politics! You studied hostage negotiation. But. . .what do you do when you are the hostage?

Suddenly, the two men burst out laughing. The larger man thumped the table several times with his hand, causing his bird to squawk.

"Sorry, princess," Denth--the thinner man--said, shaking his head. "Just a bit of mercenary humor."

"We don't kill," Tonk Fah said. "That's assassin work."

"Assassins," Denth said, holding up a finger. "Now, they get respect. Why do you suppose that is? They're really just mercenaries with fancier names. Institutional bias, I tell you."

Vivenna blinked, struggling to keep control of her nerves. "You're not here to kill me," she said, voice stiff. "So you're just going to kidnap me?"

"Gods, no," Denth said. "Bad business, that. How do you make money at it? Every time you kidnap someone worth the ransom, you upset people a whole lot more powerful than you are."

"Don't make important people angry," Tonk Fah said, yawning. "Unless you're getting paid by people who are even more powerful."

Denth nodded. "And that isn't even considering the feeding and care of captives, the exchanging of ransom notes, and the arranging of drop-offs. It's a headache, I tell you. Terrible way to make money."

The table fell silent. Vivenna placed her hands flat on its top to keep them from quivering. They know who I am, she thought, forcing herself to think logically. Either they recognize me, or. . . .

"You work for Lemks," she said.

Denth smiled widely. "See Tonk? He said she was a clever one."

"Guess that's why she's a princess and we're just mercenaries," Tonk Fah said.

Vivenna frowned. Are they mocking me or not? "Where is Lemks? Why didn't he come himself?"

Denth smiled again, nodding toward the restaurant owner as the man brought a large pot of steaming stew to the table. It smelt of hot spices, and had what appeared to be crab claws floating in it. The owner dropped a group of wooden spoons to the table, then retreated.

Denth and Tonk Fah didn't wait for permission to eat her meal. "Your friend," Denth said, grabbing a spoon, "Lemks--our employer--isn't doing so well."

"Fevers," Tonk Fah said between slurps.

"He requested that we bring you to him," Denth said. He handed her a folded piece of paper with one hand, cracking a claw between three fingers of the other. Vivenna cringed as he slurped the insides out.

Princess, the paper read. Please trust these men. Denth has served me well for some measure now, and he is loyal--if any mercenary can be called loyal. He and his men have been paid, and I am confident he will stay true to us for the duration of his contract. I offer proof of authenticity by virtue of this password: Bluemask.

The writing was in Lemks' hand. More than that, he had given the proper password. Not 'bluemask'--that was misdirection. The true password was using the word 'measure' instead of time. She glanced at Denth, who slurped out the insides of another claw.

"Ah, now," he said, tossing aside the shell. "This is the tricky part; she has to make a decision. Are we telling her the truth, or are we fooling her? Have we fabricated that letter? Or, maybe we took the old spy captive and tortured him, forcing him to write the words."

"We could bring you his fingers as proof of our good faith," Tonk Fah said. "Would that help?

Vivenna raised an eyebrow. "Mercenary humor?"

"Such that it is," Denth said with a sigh. "We're not generally a clever lot. Otherwise, we'd probably have selected a profession without such a high mortality rate."

"Like the profession of princess," Tonks said. "Good life-span, those. I've often wondered if I should apprentice myself to one."

Vivenna frowned as the two men chuckled. Lemks wouldn't have broken under torture, she thought. He's too well trained. Even if he had broken, he wouldn't have included both the real password and the false one.

"Let's go," she said, standing.

"Wait," Tonk Fah said, spoon to lips, "we're skipping our meal?"

Vivenna eyed the red-colored soup and its bobbing crustacean limbs. "Definitely."

#

Siri stood in the dark black bedroom, wearing her shift, looking out the window. The God King's palace was the only structure in the Court of Gods higher than the surrounding wall, and the bedroom faced east. Out over the sea.

She watched the distant waves, feeling the heat of the afternoon sun. It didn't bother her. While wearing the shift, the warmth was actually pleasant, and it was tempered by a cool breeze blowing in off the ocean. The wind teased her long hair, ruffling the fabric of her shift.

She should be dead. She had spoken directly to the God King, had sat up and made a demand of him. She'd waited all morning for some kind of punishment. There had been none.

She leaned down against the windowsill, arms crossed on the stone, closing her eyes and feeling the sea breeze. A part of her was still aghast at the way she had acted. That part was growing smaller and smaller. I've been going about things wrong here, she thought. I've let myself be pushed about by my fears and worries.

That wasn't her. She didn't usually take time to bother with fears and worries. She just did what seemed right. She was beginning to feel that she should have stood up to the God King days ago. Perhaps she wasn't being cautious enough. Perhaps punishment would still come. However, for the moment, she felt as if she'd accomplished something.

She smiled, opening her eyes, and let her hair change to a determined golden yellow.

It was time to stop being afraid.

#

Lemks coughed quietly. His face was streaked with sweat, his skin clammy and pale, and he occasionally gave a whispered mumble of delirious ramblings.

Vivenna sat on a stool beside his bed, hands in her lap. The two mercenaries stood with Parlin at the back of the room. The only other person present was a solemn nurse--the same woman who had informed Vivenna in a quiet voice that nothing more could be done.

Lemks was dying. It was unlikely that he would last the day.

This was the first Vivenna had seen Lemk's face, though she'd often corresponded with him. The face looked. . .wrong. She knew that Lemks was growing old; that made him a better spy, for fewer people looked for spies in the elderly. Yet he wasn't supposed to be this frail stick of a person, shaking and coughing. He was supposed to be a spry, quick-tongued old gentleman. That was what she had imagined.

She felt like she was losing one of her dearest friends, though she had never really known him. With him went her refuge in Hallandren, her secret advantage. He was the one who was supposed to have made this insane plan of hers work. The skilled, crafty mentor that she had counted on having at her side.

He coughed again. The nurse glanced at Vivenna. "He goes in an out of lucidity, my lady. Just this morning, he spoke of you, but now he's getting worse and worse. . . ."

"Thank you," Vivenna said quietly. "You are excused."

The woman bowed and left.

Now it is time to be princess, Vivenna thought, rising and leaning over Lemks' bed.

"Lemks," she said. "I need your help; you need to pass on your knowledge. How do I contact your spy networks? Where are the other Idris agents in the city? What are the passcodes that will get them to listen to me?"

He coughed, staring unseeingly, whispering something. She leaned closer.

". . .never say it," he said. "You can torture me all that you want. I won't give in."

Vivenna sat back. By design, the Idris spy network in Hallandren had loose organization. Her father knew all of their agents, but Vivenna had only ever interacted with Lemks, the leader and coordinator of the network. She gritted her teeth, leaning forward again. She felt like a grave robber as she shook Lemks' head slightly.

"Lemks, look at me. I'm not here to torture you. I'm the princess. You wrote me a letter earlier. Now I've come to you."

"Can't fool me," the old man whispered. "Your torture is nothing. I won't give it up. Not to you."

Vivenna sighed, looking away.

Suddenly, Lemks shuddered, and a wave of color washed across the bed, over Vivenna, and pulsed along the floor before fading. Despite herself, Vivenna stepped back in shock.

Another pulse came. It wasn't color itself. It was a wave of enhanced color--a ripple that made the hues in the room stand out more as it passed. The floor, the sheets, her own dress--it all flared to vibrant brightness for a second, then faded back to the original colors.

"What in Austre's name was that?" Vivenna asked.

"BioChromatic Breath, princess," Denth said as he stood, leaning against the door out. "Old Lemks has a lot of it. Couple hundred Breaths, I'd guess."

"That's impossible," Vivenna said. "He's Idrian. He'd never accept Breath."

Denth shot a look at Tonk Fah, who was scratching his parrot's neck. The bulky soldier just shrugged.

Another wave of color came from Lemks.

"He's dying, princess," Denth said. "His Breath is going irregular."

Vivenna glanced at Denth. "He doesn't have--"

Something grabbed her arm. She jumped, looking down at Lemks, who had managed to reach up and take hold of her. He was focused on her face. "Princess Vivenna," he said, eyes showing a bit of lucidity.

"Lemks," she said. "Your contacts. You have to give them to me!"

"I've done something bad, princess."

She froze.

"Breath, princess," he said. "I inherited it from my predecessor, and I've bought more. A lot more. . . ."

God of Colors. . . . Vivenna thought with a sick feeling in her stomach.

"I know it was wrong," Lemks whispered. "But. . .I felt so powerful. I could make the very dust of the earth obey my command. It was for the good of Idris! Men with Breath are respected here in Hallandren. I could get into parties where I normally would have been forbidden. I could go to the Court of Gods when I wished. The Breath extended my life, made me spry despite my age. I. . . ."

He blinked, eyes unfocusing.

"Oh, Austre," he whispered. "I've damned myself. I've gained notoriety through abusing the souls of others. And now I'm dying. . . ."

"Lemks!" Vivenna said. "Don't think about that now. Names! I need names and passcodes. Don't leave me alone!"

"Damned," he whispered. "Someone take it. Please take it away from me!"

Vivenna tried to pull back, but he still had a hold on her arm. She shuddered, thinking about the Breath he held.

"You know, princess," Denth said from behind. "Nobody really tells mercenaries anything. It's an unfortunate--but very realistic--drawback of our profession. Never trusted. Never looked to for advice."

She glanced back at him. He leaned against the door, Tonk Fah a short distance away. Parlin stood there as well, holding that ridiculous green hat in his fingers.

"Now, if someone were to ask my opinion," Denth continued, "I'd point out how much those Breaths are worth. Sell them, and you'd have enough money to buy your own spy network--or pretty much anything else you wanted."

Vivenna looked back at the dying man. He was mumbling to himself.

"If he dies," Denth said, "that Breath dies with him. All of it."

"A shame," Tonk Fah said.

"Truly," Denth said.

Vivenna paled. "I will not traffic in the souls of men! I don't care how much they're worth."

"Suit yourself," Denth said. "Hope nobody suffers when your mission fails, though."

Siri. . . .

"No," Vivenna said, partially to herself. "I couldn't take them." It was true. Even the thought of letting someone else's Breath mingle with her own--the idea of drawing another person's soul into her own body--made her sick.

Vivenna turned back to the dying spy. His BioChroma was burning bright now, and his sheets practically glowed. It was better to let that Breath die with him.

Yet, without Lemks, she would have no help in the city. No one to guide her. She'd barely brought enough money to see to lodging and meals, let alone bribes or supplies. It was like the goods one found in a bandit's cavern. Did you throw it away just because it had originally been earned through crime? Her training and lessons whispered that she needed resources badly, and that the damage had already been done. . . .

No! she thought again. It just isn't right! I can't hold it. I couldn't.

Of course, perhaps it would be wise to let someone else hold the Breaths for a time. Then she could think about what to do with them at her leisure. Maybe. . .maybe even find the people they had been taken from in the first place. She turned back, glancing at Denth and Tonk Fah.

"Don't look at me like that, princess," Denth said, chuckling. "I see the glint in your eyes. I'm not going to keep that Breath for you. Having that much BioChroma makes a man far too important."

Tonk Fah nodded. "It'd be like hiking about the city with a bag of gold on your back."

"I like my Breath the way it is," Denth said. "I only need one, and it's functioning just fine. Keeps me alive, doesn't draw attention to me, and sits there waiting to be sold if I need it."

Vivenna glanced at Parlin. But. . .no, she couldn't force the Breath on him. She turned back to Denth. "What kind of things does your agreement with Lemks provide for?"

Denth glanced at Tonk Fah, then glanced back at her. The look in his eyes was enough. He was paid to obey. He'd take the Breath if she commanded it.

"Come here," she said, nodding to a stool beside her.

Denth approached reluctantly. "You know, princess," he said, sitting. "If you give me that Breath, then I could just run off with it. I'd be a wealthy man. You wouldn't want to put that kind of temptation into the hands of an unscrupulous mercenary now, would you?"

She hesitated.

If he runs off with it, then what do I loose? That would solve a lot of problems for her. "Take it," she ordered.

He shook his head. "That's not the way it works. Our friend there has to give it to me."

She looked at the old man. "I. . . ."

He has to give it to me.

She began to command Lemks to do just that, but she had second thoughts. Austre wouldn't want her to take the Breath, no matter what the circumstances--a man who took Breath from others was worse than a slaver.

"No," she said. "No, I've changed my mind. We won't take the Breath."

At that moment, Lemks stopped his mumbling. He looked up, meeting Vivenna's eyes.

His hand was still on her arm.

"My life to yours," he said in an eerily clear voice, grip tight on her arm as she jumped back. "My Breath become yours!"

A vibrant cloud of shifting, oil-on-water air burst from his mouth, puffing toward her. Vivenna closed her mouth, eyes wide, hair white. She ripped her arm free from Lemks' grip, his face dull, his eyes losing of their luster, colors fading around him.

The Breath shot toward her. She kept her mouth closed, but that did nothing. The Breath had been Commanded, and it found its new host. Within a second of being released, it struck, hitting her like a physical force, washing across her body.

She gasped, falling to her knees, body quivering with a perverse pleasure. She could suddenly feel the other people in the room. She could sense them watching her. And--like a light turning on--everything around her become more vibrant, more real, and more alive.

She gasped, shaking in awe. She vaguely heard Parlin rushing to her side, speaking her name. But, oddly, the only thing she could think of was the melodic quality of his voice. She could pick out each tone in every word he spoke. She knew them instinctively. She could name them all.

Austre, God of Colors! she thought, steadying herself with one hand against the wooden floor as the shakes subsided. What have I done?

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