"And that is?"

"You are wonderful, Lightsong."

He stood there, looking into her eyes for a time. Wide, beautiful eyes.

"You're not going to give me your Command Phrases, are you?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"I brought you into this," she said. "You always talk about being useless, but we all know that you're one of the few who always goes through every picture in his gallery. The one who listens most attentively to his Pet.i.tioners."

"They are fools," he said. "There is nothing in me to respect."

"No," She said. "You're the one who makes us laugh, even while you insult us. Can't you see what that does? Can't you see how you've inadvertently set yourself above everyone else? You didn't do it intentionally, Lightsong, and that's what makes it work so well. In a city of frivolity, you're the only one who's shown any measure of wisdom. In my opinion, that's why you hold the armies."

He didn't reply.

"I knew the others respected you," she said. "But I thought that I'd be able to influence you."

"You can," he said. "As you've said, it's your fault that I'm involved in all of this."

She shook her head, still staring into his eyes. "I can't decide which feeling for you is stronger, Lightsong. My love or my frustration."

He took her hand, then kissed it. "I accept them both, Blushweaver. With honor." And with that, he turned from her, drawing his servants away as he approached his box. Weatherlove had arrived; that only left the G.o.d King and his bride. Lightsong sat down, wondering where Siri was. She usually got to the arena long before it was time to begin.

He found it difficult to focus his attention on the young queen. Blushweaver still stood on the walkway where he had left her. She was watching him.

Finally, she turned, trailed by her servants as she made her way to her own pavilion.

Siri walked through the palace corridors, surrounded by her serving women in brown, a dozen worries going through her head.

First, go to Lightsong, she told herself, going over the plan. It won't look odd for me to sit with him-we often spend time together at these things.

I wait for Susebron to arrive. Then I ask Lightsong we can talk in private, without our servants or his priests. I explain what I have discovered about the G.o.d King. I tell him about the way Susebron is being kept captive. Then we see what he does.

Her biggest fear was that Lightsong would already know, somehow. Could he be part of the entire conspiracy? She trusted him as much as she trusted anyone except Susebron, but her nerves had a way of making her question everything and everyone.

She pa.s.sed through room after room, each one draped in a theme of colors. She almost didn't notice how bright those were anymore.

a.s.suming Lightsong agrees to help, she thought, I wait for intermission. Once the priests step off the sand, Lightsong goes and speaks with several other G.o.ds. They each go to their priests and instruct them to begin a discussion in the arena about whether the G.o.d King is capable of speaking. They force the G.o.d King's priests to let him make his defense.

She didn't like trusting the priests, but this did seem like the best way to voice the problem to the people. Plus, if the priests didn't do as instructed, Lightsong and the others would realize that they were being undermined by their own servants. Either way, Siri realized she was getting into very dangerous territory.

I started in dangerous territory, she thought, leaving the rooms of the palace and entering the dark outer hallway. The man I love is threatened with death, and any children I bear will be taken from me. She either had to act or let the priests continue to push her about. Susebron and she were in agreement. The best plan was- Siri slowed. At the end of the hallway, a small group of priests stood with several Lifeless soldiers. They were silhouetted by the evening light outside. The priests turned toward her, and one pointed.

Colors! Siri thought, spinning. Another group of priests was approaching up the back hallway. No! Not now!

The two groups of priests closed. Siri considered running, but where? Dashing in her long dress-pushing through servants and Lifeless-seemed ridiculous to her. She raised her chin-eying the priests with a flat stare-and kept her hair completely under control. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

"We're terribly sorry, Vessel," the lead priest said. "But it has been decided that you shouldn't be exerting yourself while in your condition."

"My condition?" Siri asked icily. "What foolishness is this?"

"The child, Vessel," the priest said. "We can't risk danger to it. There are many who would try to harm you, should they know that you are carrying."

Siri froze. Child? she thought with shock. How could they know that Susebron and I have actually started...

But no. She would know if she were with child, she was sure. However, she'd supposedly been sleeping with the G.o.d King for months now. That was just enough time for a pregnancy to be discovered. It would sound plausible to the people of the city.

Fool! She thought to herself in a sudden panic. a.s.suming they've already found their replacement G.o.d King, I don't actually need me to bear them a child. They just have to make everyone think I was pregnant!

"There is no child," she said. "You were just waiting-you just had to stall until you had an excuse to lock me away."

"Please, Vessel," one of the priests said, gesturing for a Lifeless to take her arm. She didn't struggle; she forced herself to remain calm, staring the priest in the eyes.

He looked away. "This will be for the best," he said. "It's for your own good."

"I'm sure it is," she snapped, but allowed herself to be led back to her rooms.

Vivenna sat among the crowds, watching and waiting. Part of her felt foolish at coming out into the open so flagrantly. However, that part of her-the cautious princess raised in Idris-was growing more and more quiet.

Denth's people had found her when she'd been hiding in the slums. She'd probably be safer in the crowds with Vasher than she ever was in alleyways. Particularly considering how well she blended in. She hadn't realized how natural it could feel to sit in trousers and a tunic, colored brightly, completely ignored.

Vasher appeared at the railing above the benches. She carefully slipped out of her seat-someone else took it immediately-and walked toward him. The priests had already begun their arguments down below. Nanrovah, his daughter restored to him, had started by announcing his changed mind. He currently was leading the discussion against war.

He had very little support.

Vivenna joined Vasher beside the railing, and he quite unapologetically elbowed some room out for her. He didn't carry Nightblood-at her insistence, he had left the sword behind with her own dueling blade.

"Well?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head. "If Denth is here, I couldn't find him."

"No surprise, considering the size of that crowd," Vivenna said quietly. There were bodies all around them-many lining the railing. "Where did they all come from?" Vivenna asked. "This is far more busy than the other court sessions."

He shrugged. "People who are given a one time visit to the court can hold their token of entry until they want to use it. A lot of them use those at a general court session, rather than one of the smaller meetings."

Vivenna turned back to look over the crowd. She suspected it also had to do with the rumors she'd heard. People thought that this session would be the one where the Pantheon of Returned finally declared war on Idris.

"Nanrovah argues well," she said. She was having trouble hearing him because of the crowds-the Returned apparently had messengers relaying transcripts. She wondered why someone just didn't order all the people to be quiet. That didn't seem to be the Hallandren way. They liked chaos. Or, at least, they liked the opportunity to sit and chat about things while important events were occurring.

"Nanrovah is being ignored," Vasher said. "He's changed his mind twice now on the same issue. He lacks credibility."

"He should explain why he changed his mind, then."

"That could hurt his position. If the people knew his child had been kidnapped, it would make them more afraid. Plus there's that stubborn Hallandren pride. Priests are particularly bad. Mentioning that his daughter had been taken, and that he had been pressured into changing his politics..."

"I thought you liked the priests," she said.

"Some of them," he said. "Not others." When he said that, he eyed the G.o.d King's pedestal. Susebron had yet to arrive and they had apparently started without him.

Siri wasn't there either. That annoyed Vivenna, since she'd been antic.i.p.ating checking in on the girl, if only from a distance.

I'll help you, Siri. For real this time. The first step has to be stopping this war.

Vasher looked back at the floor of the arena, leaning on the railing, looking anxious.

"What?" she asked.

He shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. "Tell me."

"I just don't like leaving Nightblood alone for too long," he said.

"What's it going to do?" Vivenna asked. "We locked it in the closet."

He shrugged again.

"Honestly," she said. "You would think that you'd realize that bringing a five foot long black sword into public would be a little conspicuous. It doesn't help, mind you, that said sword bleeds smoke and can talk in people's minds."

"I don't mind being conspicuous."

"I do," she replied.

Vasher grimaced, and she thought he'd argue some more, but he finally just nodded. "You're right, of course," he said. "I've just never been all that good at being un.o.btrusive. Denth used to make fun of me for that too."

Vivenna frowned. "You were friends, then?"

Vasher turned away and fell silent.

Great, she thought. One of these days, someone in this Colors-cursed city is going to tell me the whole truth. I'll probably die of shock.

"I'm going to go see why the G.o.d King is taking so long," Vasher said, leaving the railing. "I'll be back."

She nodded, and he was gone. She leaned down, partially wishing she hadn't relinquished her seat. Once, she would have felt stifled by the large group of people, with their shifting bodies and chattering voices. She'd grown used to the busy market streets, and so being surrounded by people wasn't as intimidating to her as it once had been. In addition, there was her Breath. She'd put some of it into her shirt, but she'd left a portion-she needed to be of at least the First Heightening to pa.s.s the gates into the Court without being questioned.

Her Breath let her feel life like a regular person felt the air. It was always there, cool against her skin. Having so many people in close proximity left her feeling just a little intoxicated. So much life, so many hopes and desires. So much Breath. She closed her eyes, enjoying it, listening to the arguments of the priests down below rise over the crowd.

She felt Vasher approach before he arrived. Not only did he have a lot of Breath, but he was watching her. And she felt a slight familiarity to those eyes. She turned, picking him out of the crowd. He stood out far more than she did, in his darker, ragged clothing.

"Congratulations," he said as he approached, taking her arm.

"Why?"

"You'll soon be an aunt."

"What are you..." she trailed off. "Siri?"

"Your sister is pregnant," he said. "The priests are going to make an announcement later this evening. The G.o.d King is apparently remaining back in his palace to celebrate."

Vivenna stood, stunned. Siri. Pregnant. Siri, who was still a little girl in Vivenna's mind, bearing the child of that thing in the palace. And yet wasn't Vivenna now fighting to keep that thing on his throne?

No, she thought. I haven't forgiven Hallandren, even if I am learning not to hate them. I can't let Idris go to war and be destroyed.

She felt a panic. Suddenly, all of her plans seemed meaningless. What would the Hallandren do to her once they had their heir? "We have to get her out," Vivenna found herself saying. "Vasher, we have to rescue her."

He remained quiet.

"Please, Vasher," she whispered. "She's my sister. I thought to protect her by ending this war... but if your hunch is right, then the G.o.d King himself is one of the ones who wishes to invade Idris. Siri won't be safe with him."

"All right," Vasher said. "I will do what I can."

Vivenna nodded, turning back to the arena. The priests were withdrawing. "Where are they going?"

"To their G.o.ds," Lightsong said. "To seek the will of the Pantheon in formal vote."

"About the war?" Vivenna asked, feeling a chill.

Vasher nodded. "It is time."

Lightsong waited beneath his canopy, a couple of serving men fanning him, a cup of chilled juice in his hand, lavish snacks spread out to his side.

Blushweaver brought me into this, he thought. Because she was worried that Hallandren would be taken by surprise.

The priests were consulting with their G.o.ds. He could see several of them kneeling before Returned, heads bowed. It was the way that government happened in Hallandren. The priests argued their opinions then they sought the will of the G.o.ds. That would become the will of the Pantheon. That would become the will of Hallandren itself. Only the G.o.d King could veto an action of the Pantheon.

And he had chosen not to attend this meeting.

So self-congratulatory on sp.a.w.ning a child that he couldn't even bother to see to the future of his people? Lightsong thought with annoyance.

Llarimar approached. Though he had been down below with the other high priests, he had offered no arguments to the court. Llarimar tended to keep his thoughts to himself.

The high priest knelt before him. "Please, give me your will, Lightsong my G.o.d."

Lightsong didn't respond. He looked up, across the open arena to where Blushweaver's canopy stood, verdant in the dimming evening light.

"Oh, G.o.d," Llarimar said. "Please. Give me the knowledge I seek. Should we go to war with our kinsmen, the Idris? Are they rebels who need to be quelled?"

Priests were already returning from their prayers. Each held aloft a flag indicating the will of their G.o.d or G.o.ddess. Green for a favorable response. Red for dissatisfaction with the pet.i.tion. In this case green meant war. So far, five of the returning seven flew green.

"Your Excellency?" Llarimar asked, looking up.