"No."

"Then wait here," Lightsong said, taking off in a dash toward the palace.

Llarimar let out an uncharacteristic curse from behind, and Lightsong heard the bushes rustle. He didn't look back; he just kept running toward the open window. Like in most Returned palaces, the doorways and windows were open. The tropical climate invited such designs. Lightsong reached the side of the building, feeling exhilarated. He climbed up through the window, then reached a hand out to help Llarimar when he arrived. The hefty priest puffed and sweated, but Lightsong managed to pull him up and into the room.

They took a few moments, Llarimar resting with his back to the outer wall, gasping for breath.

"You really need to exercise some more, Scoot," Lightsong said, creeping toward the doorway and peeking out into the hall beyond.

Llarimar didn't answer. He just sat, puffing, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe what was happening.

"I wonder why the man who attacked the building didn't come in through the window," Lightsong said. Then he noticed that the guards standing at the inner doorway had an easy view of this particular room. Ah, he thought. Well, then. Time for the backup plan. Lightsong stood up, walking out into the hallway. Llarimar followed, then jumped when he saw the guards. They had similar expressions of amazement on their faces.

"h.e.l.lo," Lightsong said to the guards, then turned from them and walked down the hallway.

"Wait!" one said. "Stop!"

Lightsong turned toward them, frowning. "You dare command a G.o.d?"

They froze. Then they glanced at each other. One took off running in the opposite direction.

"They're going to alert others!" Llarimar said, rushing up. "We'll be caught."

"Then we should move quickly!" Lightsong said, taking off in another run. He smiled, hearing Llarimar grudgingly break into a jog behind him. They quickly reached the trap door.

Lightsong knelt, feeling around for a few moments before finding the hidden clasp. He triumphantly pulled the trap door open, then pointed down. Llarimar shook his head in resignation, then climbed down the ladder into darkness. Lightsong grabbed a lamp off the wall and followed. The remaining guard-unable to interfere with a G.o.d-simply watched with concern.

The bottom wasn't very far down. Lightsong found a tired Llarimar sitting on some boxes in what was obviously a small storage cellar.

"Congratulations, your grace," Llarimar said. "We've found the secret hiding place of their flour."

Lightsong snorted, moving through the chamber, poking at the walls. "Something living," he said, pointing at one wall. "That direction. I can feel it with my life sense."

Llarimar raised an eyebrow, standing. They pulled back a few boxes, and behind them was a tunnel cut into the wall. Lightsong smiled, then crawled down through it, pushing the lamp ahead of him.

"I'm not sure I'll fit," Llarimar said.

"If I fit, you will," Lightsong said, voice m.u.f.fled by the close confines. He heard another sigh from Llarimar, followed by shuffling as the portly man entered the hole. Eventually, Lightsong pa.s.sed out another hole into a much larger tunnel. He stood up, feeling self satisfied as Llarimar squeezed through. "There," Lightsong said, throwing a lever and letting a grate drop down over the opening. "They'll have trouble following now!"

"And we'll have trouble escaping," Llarimar said.

"Escape?" Lightsong said, raising his lamp, inspecting the tunnel. "Why would we want to do that?"

"Pardon me, your grace," Llarimar said. "But it seems to me that you are getting far too much enjoyment from this experience."

"Well, I'm called Lightsong the Bold," Lightsong said. "It feels good to finally be living up to the t.i.tle. Now, hush. I can still feel life nearby."

The tunnel was obviously man-made, and looked like Lightsong expected a mine shaft might. There were several branches. The life was straight ahead. Lightsong didn't turn that direction, but instead turned left, toward a tunnel that sloped downward. He followed it for a few minutes, judging the trajectory.

"Figured it out yet?" Lightsong asked, turning to Llarimar.

"The Lifeless barracks," Llarimar said. "If this tunnel continues like this, it will lead directly to them."

Lightsong nodded. "Why would they need a secret tunnel to the barracks? Any G.o.d can go there whenever he wants."

Llarimar shook his head, and they continued down the tunnel. Sure enough, after a short time, they arrived at a trap door which-when pushed up-led into one of the dark, Lifeless warehouses. Lightsong shivered, looking out at the endless rows of legs, barely illuminated by his lamp. He pulled his head back down, closed the trap door, then followed the tunnel around a bit more.

"It goes in a square," he said quietly.

"With doors up into each of the Lifeless barracks I'll bet," Llarimar said. He reached out, taking a piece of dirt and crumbling it between his fingers. "This tunnel seems newer than the one we were in up above."

Lightsong nodded. "We should keep moving," he said. "Those guards in Mercystar's palace know we're down here. I don't know who they'll tell, but I'd rather finish exploring before we get chased out."

Llarimar shivered visibly at that. They walked back up the steep tunnel to the main one they'd left behind. Lightsong still felt life down a side tunnel, but he chose the other branch, exploring. It soon became apparent that this one diverged and twisted numerous times.

"Tunnels to some of the other Returned palaces," he guessed, poking at a wooden beam used to support the shaft. "Old-much older than the tunnel by the barracks."

Llarimar nodded.

"All right, then," Lightsong said. "Time to find out where the main tunnel goes."

Llarimar followed as Lightsong approached the main tunnel. Lightsong closed his eyes, trying to determine how close the life was. It felt... distant. Almost beyond his ability to sense. If everything else down in the tunnels hadn't been rock and dirt, he probably wouldn't have even noticed the life in the first place. He nodded to Llarimar, then continued down the tunnel, stepping quietly.

Did it seem like he was capable of moving more silently than he should? Did he have skill in sneaking about? He was certainly better at it than Llarimar. Of course, a tumbling boulder was probably better at moving quietly than Llarimar, considering his bulky clothing and his puffing exhalations.

The tunnel went on for a time without branches. Lightsong looked up, trying to judge what was above them. The G.o.d King's palace? he guessed. He couldn't be certain; it was difficult to judge direction beneath the ground.

He felt... excited. Thrilled. This was something no G.o.d was supposed to do. Sneaking at night, moving through secret tunnels, looking for secrets and clues. Odd, he thought. They give us everything they think that we might want; they glut us with sensation and experience. And yet the real feelings-fear, anxiety, excitement-are completely lost to us.

He smiled. In the distance, he could hear voices. He turned down the lamp and crept forward extra quietly, waving for Llarimar to stay behind.

"... have him up above," a masculine voice was saying. "He came for the princess's sister, as I said he would."

"You have what you want, then," said another voice. "Honestly, you pay far too much attention to that one."

"Do not underestimate Vasher," first voice said. "He has accomplished more in his life than a hundred men, and has done more for the good of all people than you will ever be able to understand."

Silence.

"Aren't you planning to kill him?" said second voice.

"Yes."

Silence.

"You're a strange one, Denth," second voice said. "However, our goal is accomplished."

"You people don't have your war yet."

"We will."

Lightsong crouched beside a small pile of rubble. He could see light up ahead, but couldn't distinguish much beyond some moving shadows. His fortune seemed remarkably good, though it was very late at night-anyone up was likely to be about clandestine activities. Beyond that, today had been the day that the vote had happened.

"I have a job for you," second voice said. "We've got someone I need you to interrogate."

"Too bad," first voice said, growing distant. "I've got an old friend to torture. I just had to pause to dispose of his monstrosity of a sword."

"Denth! Come back here!"

"You didn't hire me, little man," first voice said, growing fainter. "If you want to make me do something, go get your boss. Until then, you know where to find me."

Silence. And then, something moved behind Lightsong. He spun, and could just barely make out Llarimar creeping forward. Lightsong waved him back, joined him.

"What?" Llarimar whispered.

"Voices, ahead," Lightsong whispered back, the tunnel dark around them. "Talking about the war."

"Who were they?" Llarimar asked.

"I don't know," Lightsong whispered. "But I'm going to find out. Wait here while I-"

A voice screamed. Lightsong jumped immediately. The sound came from the place where he had heard the voices, and it seemed like...

"Let go of me!" Blushweaver yelled. "What do you think you're doing! I'm a G.o.ddess!"

Lightsong stood up sharply. A voice said something back to Blushweaver, but Lightsong was now too far down the tunnel to hear.

"You will let me go!" Blushweaver yelled. "I-" she cut off sharply, crying out in pain.

Lightsong's heart was pounding. He took a step.

"Your grace!" Llarimar said, standing. "We should go for help!"

"We are help," Lightsong said. He took a deep breath. Then-surprising himself-he charged down the tunnel. He quickly approached the light, turning around a corner and coming into a section of tunnel that had been worked. In seconds, he was running on a smooth stone floor and burst into what appeared to be a dungeon or a cellar.

Blushweaver sat tied to a chair. A group of men wearing the G.o.d King's priestly robes stood around her. There were several uninformed soldiers in the room Blushweaver's lip was bleeding, and she was crying through a gag that had been placed on her mouth. She wore a beautiful sleeping robe, but it was dirty and disheveled.

The men in the room looked up in surprise, obviously shocked to see someone come up behind them. Lightsong took advantage of this shock and threw his weight against the soldier nearest to him. He sent the man flying back into the wall, Lightsong's superior size and weight knocking him aside with ease. Lightsong knelt down and quickly pulled the fallen soldier's sword from its sheath.

"Aha!" Lightsong said, lowering the weapon at the men in front of him. "Who's first?"

The soldiers regarded him dumbly.

"I say, you!" Lightsong said, lunging at the next-closest guard.

He missed the man by a good three inches, fumbling and off-balance from the lunge. The guard finally realized what was going on and pulled out his own sword. The priests backed against the wall. Blushweaver blinked her tears, looking shocked.

The soldier nearest Lightsong attacked, and Lightsong raised his blade awkwardly, trying to block, doing a horrible job of it. The guard at his feet suddenly threw himself at Lightsong's legs, toppling him to the ground. Then one of the standing guards thrust his sword into Lightsong's shoulder.

The shoulder bled blood as red as that of any mortal. Suddenly, Lightsong knew pain. Pain greater than, literally, he'd ever known in his short life.

He screamed.

He saw, through tears, Llarimar heroically trying to tackle a guard from behind, but the attack was almost as poorly-executed as Lightsong's own. The soldiers stepped away, several guarding the tunnel, another holding his bloodied blade toward Lightsong's throat.

Funny, Lightsong thought, gritting his teeth against the pain. That was not at all how I imagined this going.

Chapter Fifty-Three.

Vivenna waited up for Vasher. He did not return.

She paced in the small, one-room hideout-the sixth in a series of quick moves, never more than a few days in each location. It was unadorned and held only their bedrolls, Vasher's pack, and a single flickering candle.

Vasher would have chastised her for wasting the candle. For a man who held a king's fortune in Breaths, he was surprisingly frugal.

She paced some more. She knew that she should probably just go to sleep. Vasher could take care of himself. It seemed that the only one in the city who couldn't do that was Vivenna.

And yet he'd told her he was only going to go on a quick scouting mission. Though he seemed like such a solitary person, he apparently understood her desire to be a part of things, so he usually let her know where he was going and when to expect him back. She'd never waited up for Denth to come back from a night mission. She'd been working with Vasher for a fraction of the time she'd spent with the others. Why did she care so much now?

Though she had felt like she was Denth's friend, she hadn't really cared about him. He'd been amusing and charming, but distant. Vasher was... well, who he was. There was no guile with him. He wore no false mask or face. She'd only met one other person like that. Her sister, the one who would bear the G.o.d King's child.

Lord of Colors! Vivenna thought, still pacing. How did things turn out to be such a mess?

Siri awoke with a start. There was shouting coming from outside her room. She roused herself quickly, moving over to the door and putting her ear to it. She could hear fighting. If she were going to run, perhaps now would be the time. She rattled the door, hoping for some reason that it was unlocked. It wasn't.

She cursed. Something was obviously happening in the palace. She'd heard fighting before-screaming, and men dying. And now again. Someone trying to rescue me, perhaps? she thought hopefully. But who?

The door shook suddenly, and she jumped back as it opened. Tridees, high priest of the G.o.d King, stood in the doorway. "Quickly, child," he said, waving to her. "You must come with me."

Siri looked desperately for a way to run. She backed away from the priest, and he cursed quietly, waving for a couple of soldiers in city guard uniforms to rush in and grab her. She screamed for help.

"Quiet, child!" Tridees said. "You fool! We're trying to help you."

His lies rang flat in her ears, and she struggled as the soldiers pulled her from the room. Outside, bodies were lying on the ground, some in guard uniforms, others in nondescript armor, still others having grey skin.

She heard fighting down the hallway, and she screamed toward it as the soldiers roughly pulled her away.