"What happened then?" Vasher asked.

"I left with some others. I thought the carriage itself was the distraction, and once it went down, I was supposed to pull out."

"Denth?"

"He wasn't there, come to think of it," Vivenna said. "The others told me he was working with the thieves."

Vasher nodded, walking over to his pack. He threw aside the bedrolls then took out several articles of clothing. He pulled off his shirt, exposing a well-muscled-and rather hairy-torso. Vivenna blinked in surprise, then flushed. She probably should have turned aside, but the curious part of her was too strong. What was he doing?

He didn't remove his trousers, thankfully, but instead threw on a different shirt. The sleeves of this one were cut into long ribbons near the wrists.

"Upon call," he said, "become my fingers and grip that which I must."

The cuff ta.s.sels wiggled.

"Wait," Vivenna said. "What was that? A Command?"

"Too complicated for you," he said, kneeling and undoing the cuff of his trousers. She could see that here, too, there were extra lengths of cloth. "Become as my legs and give them strength," he Commanded.

The leg-ta.s.sels crossed under his feet, growing tight. Vivenna didn't argue with his insistence that the Commands were 'too complicated'. She just memorized them anyway.

Finally, Vasher threw on his tattered cloak, which was ripped in places. "Protect me," he commanded, and she could see almost all of his remaining breath drain into the cloak. He wrapped his rope belt around his waist-it was thin, for a rope, and strong, and she knew its purpose was not to keep his trousers up.

Finally, he picked up Nightblood. "You coming?"

"Where?"

"We're going to go capture a few of those thieves. Ask them exactly what Denth wanted with that carriage."

Vivenna felt a stab of fear. "Why invite me? Won't I just make it harder for you?"

"Depends," he said. "If we get into a fight, and you get in the way, then it will be more difficult. If we get into a fight and half of them attack you instead of me, it will make things more easy."

"a.s.suming you don't defend me."

"That's a good a.s.sumption," he said, looking into her eyes. "If you want to come, come. But don't expect me to protect you, and-whatever you do-don't try and follow on your own."

"I wouldn't do such a thing," she said.

He shrugged. "I thought I'd make the offer. You're no prisoner here, Princess. You can do whatever you want. Just don't get in my way when you do it, understand?"

"I understand," she said, feeling a chill as she made her decision. "And I'm coming."

He didn't try to dissuade her. He simply pointed at her sword. "Keep that on."

She nodded, tying it on.

"Draw it," he said.

She did so, and he corrected her grip.

"What good will holding it properly do?" she asked. "I still don't know how to use it."

"Look threatening and it might make someone attacking you pause. Make them hesitate for a couple seconds in a fight, and that could mean a lot."

She nodded nervously, sliding the weapon back in its sheath. Then she grabbed several lengths of rope. "Hold when thrown," she said to the smaller one, then stuffed it into her pocket.

Denth eyed her.

"Better to lose the Breath than get killed," she said.

"Few Awakeners agree with you," he noted. "To most of them, the thought of losing Breath is far more frightening than the prospect of death."

"Well, I'm not like most Awakeners," she said. "Half of me still finds the process blasphemous."

He nodded. "Put the rest of your Breath somewhere else," he said, opening the door. "We can't afford to draw attention."

She grimaced, then did as told, putting her Breath into her shirt with a basic, and non-active, Command. It was actually the same as giving a half-spoken Command, or one that was mumbled, actually. Those would draw out the Breath, but leave the item unable to act.

As soon as she placed the Breath, the dullness returned. Everything seemed... dead around her.

"Let's go," Denth said, moving out into the darkness.

Night in T'Telir was very different from her homeland. There, it had been possible to see so many stars overhead that it looked like a bucket of white sand had been sprayed into the air. Here, there were street lamps, were taverns, restaurants, and houses of entertainment. The result was a city full of lights-a little like the stars themselves had come down to inspect grand T'Telir. Even still, Vivenna was saddened by how few stars she could see from inside the city.

None of that meant that the places they were going were-by any means-bright. Vasher led her through the streets, and he quickly became little more than a hulking shadow. They left behind places with street lights, and even lit windows, moving into an unfamiliar slum. This was one of those she'd been afraid to enter, even when living on the streets. The night seemed to grow even darker as they entered and walked down one of the twisting, dark alleys that pa.s.sed for streets in such places. They remained silent. Vivenna knew not to speak and draw attention.

Eventually, Vasher pulled to a stop. He pointed toward a building: single story, flat-topped, and wide. It sat alone, in a depression, shanties built from refuse covering the ground running up the slight hill behind it. Vasher waved for her to stay back, then quietly put the rest of his Breath into a rope and crept forward up the hill.

Vivenna waited, nervous, kneeling beside a decaying shanty that looked to have been built from half-crumbling bricks. Why did I come? she thought. He didn't tell me to-he simply said that I could. I could just as easily have stayed behind.

But she was tired of having things happen to her. She had been the one to point out that maybe there was a connection between the priest and Denth's plan. She wanted to see this to the end. Do something.

That had been easy to think back in the lit room. It didn't help her nerves that, looming to the left side of the shanty, stood one of the D'Denir statues. There had been some of them in the Highland slums as well, though most of them had been defaced or broken.

She couldn't feel anything with her life sense. Without her Breath, she felt almost as if she'd been made blind. Losing it brought her memories of nights sleeping in the mud of a cold alleyway. Beatings administered by urchins half her size but with twice her competency. Hunger. Terrible, omnipresent, depressing and draining hunger.

A footstep cracked and a shadow loomed. She nearly gasped in shock, but managed to keep it in as she recognized Nightblood in the figure's hand.

"Two guards," Vasher said. "Both silenced."

"Will they work for answering our questions?"

Vasher shook a silhouetted head. "Practically kids. We need someone more important. We'll have to go in. Either that, or sit and watch for a few days to determine who is in charge, then grab him when he's alone."

"That would take too long," Vivenna whispered.

"I agree," he said. "I can't use the sword, though. When Nightblood is done with a group, there's never anyone to question."

Vivenna shivered.

"Come on," he whispered. She followed as quietly as she could, moving for the front door. Vasher grabbed her arm and shook his head. She followed him around to the side, barely noticing the two lumps of unconscious bodies stuffed into a ditch. At the back of the building, Vasher began to feel around on the ground. After a few moments without success, he cursed quietly and pulled something from his pocket. A handful of straw.

In just a few seconds, he had constructed three little men from of the straw, using Breath reclaimed from his cloak to give them life. He gave each one the same command "Find Tunnels."

Vivenna watched with fascination. That's far more abstract a Command than he led me to believe was possible, she thought as the little men scuttled around on the ground. Vasher himself returned to his searching. But... it seems that experience-and ability to use mental images-is the most important aspect of Awakening.

He's been doing this a long time, and the way he spoke before-like a scholar-indicates he's studied Awakening very seriously.

One of the straw men began to jump up and down. The other two rushed over to it and then they began to bounce as well. Vasher joined them, as did Vivenna, and she watched as he uncovered a trap door hidden with a thick layer of dirt on it. He raised it a tad, then reached underneath. His hand came back out with several small bells, which had apparently been rigged there to ring if the door were opened all the way.

"No group like this has a hideout without bolt holes," Vasher said. "Usually a couple of them. Always trapped."

Vivenna watched as he recovered the Breath from the straw men, quietly apologizing to each one. She frowned at the curious words. They were just piles of straw. Why apologize?

He put the Breath back into his cloak with a protection Command then led the way down through the trap door. Vivenna followed, stepping softly, skipping a particular step when Vasher indicated. The bottom was a cellar-like tunnel-or, so she got from feeling along the sides of the lightless earthen chamber.

Vasher moved forward; she could only tell because of his rustling clothing. She followed and was curious to see light ahead. She could also hear voices. Men talking, and laughing.

Soon she could see Vasher's silhouette; she moved up next to him, peeking into an earthen room. There was a fire burning at the center, the smoke twisting up through a hole in the ceiling. The upper chamber-the building itself-was probably just a front, for the chamber down here looked very lived-in. There were piles of cloth, bed rolls, pots and pans. All of it as dirty as the men who sat around the fire, laughing.

Vasher gestured to the side. There was another tunnel. Vivenna's heart jumped in shock as Vasher crept into the room and toward the tunnel. She glanced at the fire. The men were very focused on their drinking, and were blinded by the light. They didn't seem to notice Vasher.

She took a deep breath, then followed, feeling exposed with the firelight to her back. Vasher didn't go very far, however, before stopping. Vivenna nearly collided with him. He stood there for a few moments; finally, Vivenna poked him in the back, trying to get him to move aside so that she could see what he was doing. He shuffled letting her see what was before him.

This tunnel ended abruptly-apparently, it was less of a tunnel, and more of a nook. Nestled against the back of the nook was a cage, about as tall as Vivenna's waist. Inside the cage was a child.

Vivenna gasped softly, pushing past Vasher and kneeling down beside the cage. The valuable thing in the carriage, she thought, making the connection. It wasn't the coins. It was the priest's daughter. The perfect bargaining chip if you wanted to blackmail someone into changing their position at court.

As Vivenna knelt, the girl pulled back in the cage, sniffling quietly and quivering. The cage stank of human waste, and the child was covered in grime. All except for her cheeks, which had been washed clean by tears.

Vivenna looked up at Vasher. His eyes were shadowed, his back to the fire, but she could see him gritting his teeth. She could see tension in his muscles. He turned his head to the side, half-lighting his face by the illumination of the red fire.

In that single lit eye, Vivenna saw fury.

"Hey!" one of the thieves called.

"Get the child out," Vasher said in a harsh whisper.

"How did you get here!" another man yelled.

Vasher met her eyes with his single illuminated one, and she felt herself shrink before him. She nodded, and Vasher turned away from her, one hand clenching into a fist, the other grabbing Nightblood in a hard-knuckled grip. He stepped slowly, deliberately, as he approached the men, his cloak rustling. Vivenna intended to do as asked, but she found it hard to look away from him.

Men drew blades. Vasher moved suddenly.

Nightblood, still sheathed, took one man in the chest, and Vivenna heard bones snap. Another man attacked, and Vasher spun, whipping out a hand. The ta.s.sels on his sleeve moved on their own, wrapping around the blade of the thief's sword, catching it. Vasher's momentum ripped the blade free, and he tossed it aside, the ta.s.sels releasing it.

The sword hit the dirt of the cellar floor; Vasher's hand snapped up, grabbing the thief by the face. The ta.s.sels wrapped like too-limber fingers around the man's head, latching on like a squid's tentacles. Vasher slammed then man down into the ground-kneeling to give momentum-even as he rammed the sheathed Nightblood into another man's legs, dropping him. A third tried to cut Vasher from behind, and Vivenna cried a warning. Vasher's cloak, however, suddenly whipped out-moving on its own-and grabbed the surprised man by the arms.

Vasher turned, anger in his face, and swung Nightblood toward the captured man. Vivenna cringed at the sound of the cracking bones, and she turned away from the fight as the screaming continued. With shaking fingers, she tried to open the cage.

It was locked, of course. She drew out some Breath from a rope, then tried to Awaken the lock, but nothing happened.

Metal, she thought. Of course. It hasn't been alive, so it can't be Awakened.

Instead she pulled a thread free from her shirt, trying to ignore the cries of pain from behind. Vasher began to bellow as he fought, losing any semblance of being a cold, professional killer. This was a man enraged.

She raised the thread.

"Unlock things," she Commanded.

The thread wiggled a bit, but when she stuck it into the lock, nothing happened.

She withdrew the Breath, took a few calming breaths of her own, then closed her eyes.

Have to get the intention right. Need it to go inside, twist the tumbler free.

"Twist things," she said, feeling the Breath leave her. She stuck the thread into the lock. It spun about, and she heard a click. The door opened. The sounds of fighting from behind stopped, though men continued to moan.

Vivenna recovered her Breath then reached into the cage. The girl cringed, crying out and hiding her face.

"I'm a friend," Vivenna said soothingly. "Please, I'm here to help you." But the girl wiggled, screaming when touched. Frustrated, Vivenna turned back toward Vasher.

He stood beside the fire, head bowed, bodies strewn around him. He held Nightblood in one hand, sheathed tip resting back against the dirty floor.

Vasher's other hand was on Nightblood's hilt. The sheath clasp was undone, and black smoke crept out, off of the blade, some pouring toward the ground, some floating up toward the ceiling. As if it couldn't decide.

Vasher's arm was quivering.

Draw... me... a distant voice seemed to say in Vivenna's head. Kill them...

Many of the men still twitched on the ground. Vasher began to slide the blade free. It was dark black, and it seemed to suck in the firelight.

This isn't good, she thought. "Vasher!" she yelled. "Vasher, the girl won't come to me!"

He froze, then glanced at her, eyes glazed over.

"You defeated them, Vasher. No need to draw the sword."

Yes... yes there is...

He blinked, then saw her. He snapped Nightblood back into place, shaking his head and rushing toward her. He kicked a body as he pa.s.sed, earning a grunt.

"Colorless monsters," he whispered, looking into the cage. He reached out his hands. And, oddly, the child immediately went to him, grabbing his chest and weeping. Vivenna watched with shock. Vasher picked the child up, tears in his own eyes.

"You know her?" Vivenna asked.

He shook his head. "I've met Nanrovah, and knew he had young children, but I never met any of them."