"I..." she sat down on the rug, trying to make sense of her feelings. "Why should I do as you tell me? How do I know that you're not just using me? Lying to me. Like Denth did."

"You don't know," Vasher said, recovering his sword from the corner. "You'll just have to do what I say."

"Am I a prisoner then?"

He glanced at her. Then he walked over, squatting. "Look," he said. "But we both agree that war is bad for Idris. I'm not going to take you on raids or make you meet with slum lords. All you have to do is tell people you don't want a war."

"And if I'm not willing to do that?" she said. "Will you force me?"

He watched her for a moment, then swore under his breath, standing. He pulled out a bag of something and tossed it at her. It clinked as it hit her chest then fell to the floor.

"Go," he said. "Get back to Idris. I'll do it without you."

She just continued to sit, staring. He began to walk away.

"Denth used me," he found herself whispering. "And the worse part is, I still feel like this should all be just a misunderstanding. I feel that he's really my friend, and that I should go to him and find out why he did what he did. Maybe we are all just confused."

She closed her eyes, resting her head on her knees. "But then I remember the things I saw him do. My friend Parlin is dead. Killed by one of Denth's men. I feel so confused."

The room fell silent. "You're not the first one he's taken in, princess," Vasher finally said. "Denth... he's a careful one. A man like him can be evil to the core, but if he is charismatic and amusing, people will listen to him. They'll even like him."

She looked up, blinking teary eyes.

Vasher turned away. "Me," he said. "I'm not like that. I have trouble talking. I get frustrated. I snap at people. Doesn't make me very popular. But I promise you that I won't lie to you." He met her eyes. "I want to stop this war. That's all that really matters to me, right now. I promise you."

She wasn't sure if she believed him. Yet, she found herself wanting to. Idiot, she thought. You're just going to get taken in again.

She hadn't proven herself a very good judge of character. Still, she didn't pick up the bag of coins. "I am willing to help. a.s.suming it doesn't involve anything more than telling others that I wish to keep Idris from harm."

"Good enough.

She hesitated. "Do you really think we can stop it. The war?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. a.s.suming I can keep myself from beating the Colors out of all these Idrians for acting like idiots."

A pacifist with temper-control issues, she thought ruefully. What a combination. A little like a devout Idrian princess who holds enough BioChromatic Breath to populate a small village.

"There are more places like this," Vasher said. "I would show you to the people there."

"All right," she said, trying not to look at the blade as she stood. It had a strange ability to make her feel sick, even still, just by looking at it.

Vasher nodded. "There won't be many people at each meeting. I don't have Denth's connections, and I'm not friendly with important people. The ones I know are workers. We'll have to go visit the dye vats, perhaps even some of the fields."

"I understand," she said.

Without further comment, Vasher picked up his bag of coins, then led her out onto the street. And so, she thought, I begin again.

I can only hope that this time, I'm on the right side.

Chapter Forty-Four.

Siri watched Susebron with fondness as he ate a third dessert. Their night's meal lay spread out on the table and floor, some dishes completely devoured, others barely tasted. That first night when Susebron had ordered a meal had created a tradition. Now they ordered food every night-though only after Siri did her act for the listening priests. Susebron claimed to find it very amusing, though she noticed the curiosity in his eyes as he watched her.

Susebron had proven to have quite a sweet tooth now that disapproving priests and their sense etiquette were gone. "You should probably watch out," she noted as he finished another pastry. "If you eat too many of those, you will gain weight."

He reached for his writing board. No I won't.

"Yes you will," she said, smiling. "That's the way it works."

Not for G.o.ds, he wrote. My mother explained it. Some men become more bulky if they exercise a lot and become fat if they eat a lot. That doesn't happen to Returned. We always look the same.

Siri couldn't offer argument. What did she know of Returned?

Is food in Idris like this? Susebron wrote.

Siri smiled. He was always so curious about her homeland. She could sense a longing in him, the wish to be free of his palace and see the outside. And yet, he didn't want to be disobedient, even when the ones who made the rules were obviously harsh.

"I really need to work on corrupting you some more," she noted.

He paused. What does that have to do with food?

"Nothing," she said. "But it's true nonetheless. You're far too good a person, Susebron."

Sarcasm? he wrote. I certainly hope that it is.

"Only half," she said, laying down on her stomach and watching him across their impromptu picnic settings.

Half sarcasm? He wrote. Is this something new?

"No," she said, sighing. "There is truth sometimes even in sarcasm. I don't really want to corrupt you, but I do think that you're just too obedient. You need to be a little more reckless. Impulsive."

It's hard to be impulsive when you are locked in a palace surrounded by hundreds of servants, he wrote.

"Good point."

However, I have been thinking about the things which you have said. Please don't be mad at me.

Siri perked up, noting the embarra.s.sment in his expression. "All right. What did you do?"

I talked to my priests, he said. With the Artisan's Script.

Siri felt a moment of panic. "You told them about us?"

No, no, he wrote quickly. I did tell them I was worried about having a child. I asked why my father died right after he had a child.

Siri frowned. Part of her wished that he'd let her handle such negotiations. However, she said nothing. She didn't want to keep him pinned down like his priests did. His life that was being threatened-he deserved the chance to work on the problem too.

"Good," she said.

You're not mad?

She shrugged. "I was just telling you to be more impulsive! I can't really complain. What did they say?"

He erased, then continued. They told me not to worry. They said everything would be all right. So I asked them again, and again they gave me a vague answer.

Siri nodded slowly.

It hurts me to write this, but I'm beginning to think that you are right. I've noticed that my guards and Awakeners are staying particularly close lately. We even skipped going to the court of judgment yesterday.

"That's a bad sign," she agreed. "I haven't had much luck finding out what is going to happen. I've ordered in three other storytellers but none of them had information any better than what Hoid gave me."

You still think it has to do with the Breath I hold?

She nodded. "Remember what I said about my conversation with Tridees? He talked about that Breath of yours with reverence. To him, it's something to be pa.s.sed from generation to generation, like a family tapestry."

In one of the children's stories in my book, he wrote, there is a magic sword. A young boy is given it by his grandfather, and it turns out the sword was a heirloom-the symbol of kinghood in the land.

"What are you saying?" she asked.

Perhaps the entire monarchy of Hallandren is nothing more than a way to guard the Breath. The only way to store Breath is inside of a person. So they created a monarchy with line of G.o.d Kings who could take the treasure and pa.s.s it from father to son.

Siri nodded slowly. "That would mean that the G.o.d King is more of a placeholder than anything else. A sheath for a magic weapon."

Exactly, Susebron wrote, hand moving quickly. They had to make my family kings because of how much Breath was in that treasure. And they had to give it to a Returned-otherwise their king and their G.o.ds might have been in conflict for power.

"Perhaps. It seems convenient that the G.o.d King always bears a stillborn son who becomes Returned..."

She trailed off. Susebron saw it too.

Unless the next G.o.d King isn't really the son of the current one, he wrote, hand shaking slightly.

"Austre!" Siri said. "G.o.d of Colors! That's it. Somewhere in the kingdom, a baby died and Returned. That's why it's so urgent that I get pregnant! They already have the next G.o.d King, now they just need to keep up the farce. They marry me to you, hope for a child as quickly as possible, then switch the baby for the Returned one."

Then they kill me and somehow take my Breaths away, he wrote. And give it to this child, who can become the next G.o.d King.

Siri sat back, frowning. "But if any of that is true, then that asks another question. Why even bother changing G.o.d Kings? Why not just leave one man holding the Breath?"

I don't know, Susebron wrote. It doesn't seem to make sense, does it? Maybe they are worried about keeping a single G.o.d King captive that long. Children are easier to control, perhaps?

"If that's the case, they would want to change more often," Siri said. "Some of those G.o.d Kings lasted centuries. Of course, it could just have to do with how rebellious they think their king is."

I do everything I'm supposed to! You just complained that I am too obedient.

"Compared to me, you are," she said, sitting up and leaning back. "Maybe from their viewpoint, you're a wildman. After all, you did hide that book your mother gave you, and then you learned to write. Perhaps they know you well enough to realize that you weren't going to stay docile. So now that they have an opportunity to replace you, they're intending to take it."

Maybe, he wrote.

Siri thought through their conclusions again. Looked at critically, she could see that they were just speculations. Yet, everyone said that the other Returned couldn't have children, and so why would the G.o.d King be different? That might just be a means of obfuscating the fact that they were bringing in a new person to be G.o.d King when they found one.

That still didn't answer the most important question. What were they going to do to Susebron to get his Breaths away from him?

Susebron leaned back, staring up at the dark ceiling. Siri watched him, noting the look of sadness in his eyes. "What?" she asked.

He just shook his head.

"Please? What is it?"

He sat for a moment, then looked down, writing. If what you say is true, then the woman who raised me was not my mother. I would have been born to someone random out in the countryside. The priests would have taken me once I returned, then raised me in the palace as the 'son' of the G.o.d King they'd just killed.

Seeing him in pain made her insides twist. She moved around the blanket, sitting beside him, putting her arms around him.

She's the only person to have shown me real kindness in my life, he wrote. The priests, they revere me and care for me-or, at least, I a.s.sumed that they did. However, they never really loved me. Only my mother did that. And now I'm not sure I even know who she is.

"If she raised you, she's your mother," Siri said. "It doesn't matter who gave birth to you."

He didn't respond to that.

"Maybe she was your real mother," Siri said. "If they were going to bring you to the palace and raise you in secret, they might as well bring your mother too. Who better to care for you?"

He nodded, then scribbled on the board with one hand-the other around Siri's waist. Perhaps you are right. Though it now seems suspicious to me that she would die as she did. She was one of the few who could have told me the truth.

This seemed to make him even more sad, and Siri pulled him close, laying her head on his chest.

Please, he wrote. Tell me of your family.

"My parents were often frustrated with me," Siri said. "But they did love me. Do love me. They just wanted me to do what they thought was right. And... well, the more time I spend in Hallandren, the more I wish I would have listened to them, at least a little bit.

"Ridger was right above me. I was always getting him into trouble. He was the heir, and I had him thoroughly corrupted, at least until he got old enough to realize his duties. He's a little like you. Very kind hearted, always trying to do what is right. He didn't eat as many sweets, though."

Susebron smiled faintly, squeezing her shoulder.

"Then there was Fafen. I didn't really know her that well. She joined a monastery when I was still quite young-and I was glad. It's seen as a duty in Idris to provide at least one child for the monasteries. They're the ones who grow the food for the poor and take care of things that need to be done around the city. Pruning, washing, painting. Anything to be of service."

He reached over. A little like a king, he wrote. Living a life to serve others.

"Sure," Siri said. "Only they don't get locked up and they can stop doing it, if they want. Either way, I'm glad it was Fafen and not me. I would have gone crazy living as a monk. They have to be pious all the time, and are supposed to be the least ostentatious in the city."

Not a good match for your hair, he wrote.

"Definitely," she said.