The docks were to her left, the sea brine pungent. The dock slums, where many of the dockhands lived and drank, were a small section of buildings cl.u.s.tered between warehouses and shipyards. Why would Vasher have come here? He had been planning to visit the Court of G.o.ds. From what she could hear, there had been a murder in the building near her. People whispered of ghosts, but Vivenna simply shook her head. This wasn't what she was looking for. She'd have to- Vivenna? The voice was faint, but she could just barely make it out. And recognize it.

"Nightblood?" she whispered.

Vivenna. Come get me.

She shivered. She wanted to turn and run-even thinking about the sword made her feel nauseous. Yet Vasher had taken Nightblood with him. She was in the right place after all.

The gawkers spoke of a murder. Was Vasher the person who had been killed?

Suddenly concerned, she shoved her way through the crowd, ignoring yells that she should stay back. She climbed up the stairs, pa.s.sing door after door. In her rush, she almost missed the one with black smoke creeping out underneath it.

She froze. Then, taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room was poorly kept, the floor littered with trash, the furniture splintered and worn. Four bodies lay dead on the floor. Nightblood was sticking from the chest of the fourth, an old man with a leathery face, Vivenna! Nightblood said happily. You found me. I'm so excited. I tried to get them to take me to the Court of G.o.ds, but it didn't turn out well. He did draw me a little bit. That's good, right?

She fell to her knees, feeling sick.

Vivenna? Nightblood asked. I did well, right? Varatridees threw me into the ocean, but I came back out. I'm quite satisfied. You should tell me that I did well.

She didn't respond.

Oh, Nightblood said. And, Vasher is hurt, I think. We should go find him.

She looked up. "Where?" she asked, uncertain if the sword would even be able to hear her.

The G.o.d King's palace, Nightblood said. He went to get your sister out. I think he likes you, even though he says he doesn't. He says you're annoying.

Vivenna blinked. "Siri? You went after Siri?"

Yes, but Varatridees stopped us.

"Who is that?" She asked, frowning.

You call him Denth. He's Shashara's brother. I wonder if she's here too. I'm not sure why he threw me in the water. I thought he liked me.

"Vasher..." she said, climbing back to her feet, feeling woozy from the sword's influence. Vasher had been taken by Denth.

She shivered, remembering the anger in Denth's voice when he'd spoken of Vasher. She gritted her teeth and grabbed a dirty blanket off the bedroll and wrapped it around Nightblood so that she wouldn't have to touch him.

Ah, Nightblood said. You don't really need to do that. I had the old man clean me off after he got me out of the water.

She ignored the sword, managing to lift the bundle with only a small amount of nausea. Then she left, heading for the Court of G.o.ds.

Lightsong sat, staring at the stones in front of him. A little trickle of Blushweaver's blood was making its way down a crack in the rock.

"Your grace?" Llarimar asked quietly. He stood up against the bars between their cages.

Lightsong didn't respond.

"Your grace, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"What good is G.o.dhood?" Lightsong whispered.

Silence. Lanterns flickered on either side of the small chamber. n.o.body had cleaned up Blushweaver's body, though they had left a couple of priests and Lifeless behind to watch Lightsong. They still needed him, should it turn out that he'd lied about the Command Phrases.

He hadn't.

"What?" Llarimar finally asked.

"What good is it?" Lightsong said. "We aren't G.o.ds. G.o.ds don't die like that. A little cut. Not even as wide as my palm."

"I'm sorry," Llarimar said. "She was a good woman, even among G.o.ds."

"She wasn't a G.o.d," Lightsong said. "None of us are. I've always known it. n.o.body pays attention to me. Shouldn't they listen to the one they worship? Particularly if he's telling you not to worship him?"

"I..." Llarimar seemed at a loss for words.

"They should have seen," Lightsong hissed. "They should have seen the truth about me! An idiot. Not a G.o.d, but a scribe. A foolish little scribe who was allowed to play G.o.d for a few years! A coward."

"You're no coward," Llarimar said.

"I couldn't save her," Lightsong said. "I couldn't do anything. I just sat there and screamed. Maybe if I'd been more brave, I'd have joined with her and taken control of the armies. But I hesitated. And now she's dead."

Silence.

"You were a scribe," Llarimar said quietly to the damp air. "And you were one of the best men I'd ever known. You were my brother."

Lightsong looked up.

Llarimar stared out through the bars, looking toward one of the flickering lanterns set in the stark stone wall. "I was a priest, even then. I worked in the palace of Kindwinds the Honest. I saw how he lied to play the games of politics. The longer I spent in that palace, the more my faith waned."

He fell silent for a moment, then he looked up. "And then you died. Died rescuing my daughter. That's the girl you see in your visions, Lightsong. The description is perfect. She was your favorite niece. Still would be, I a.s.sume. If you hadn't..." He shook his head. "When we found you dead, I lost hope. I was going to resign my position. I knelt above your body, weeping. And then, the Colors started to glow. You lifted your head, body changing, getting larger, muscles growing strong.

"I knew it at that moment. I knew that if a man like you were chosen to Return-a man who had died to save another-then the Iridescent Tones were real. The visions were real. And the G.o.ds were real. You gave me my faith back, Stennimar."

He met Lightsong's eyes. "You are a G.o.d. To me, at least. It doesn't have to do with how easily you can be killed, how much Breath you have, or how you look. It has to do with who you are and what you mean."

Chapter Fifty-Five.

"There is fighting at the front gates, your grace," the bloodied soldier said. "The insurgents are fighting each other there. We... we might be able to get out."

Siri felt a stab of relief. Finally, something going right.

Tridees turned toward her. "If we can get into the city, the people will rally around their G.o.d King. We should be safe there."

"Where did they get so many Lifeless?" Siri asked.

Tridees shook his head. They had paused in a room near the front of the palace, desperate, yet uncertain. Breaking through the Pahn Kahl fortification of the Court of G.o.ds was bound to be difficult.

She looked up at Susebron. His priests treated him like a child-they gave him respect, but they obviously didn't care to ask his opinion. For his part, he stood, hand on his shoulder. She saw thoughts and ideas working behind those eyes of his, but there was nothing for him to write upon.

"Vessel," Tridees said, drawing her attention. "You need to know something."

She looked at him.

"I hesitate to mention this," Tridees said, "as you are not a priest. But... if you survive but we do not..."

"Speak it," she commanded.

"You cannot bear the G.o.d King a child," he said. "Like all Returned, he is unable to bear children. We have not yet figured out how the First Returned managed to have a child all those years ago. In fact..."

"You don't even think he did," she said. "You think the Royal line is a fabrication." Of course he'd dispute that, she thought. He wouldn't want to give credibility to Idris's claim.

He flushed. "It's what people believe that is in important in this matter. Regardless, we... have a child..."

"Yes," Siri said. "A Returned child you are going to make the next G.o.d King."

He looked at her, shocked. "You know?"

"You're planning to kill him, aren't you?" she hissed. "Take Susebron's Breath and leave him dead!"

"Colors, no!" Tridees said, shocked. "How... how could you think... No, we'd never do such a thing! Vessel, the G.o.d King needs only give away the treasure of Breaths he holds, investing them into the next G.o.d King, and then he can live the rest of his life-so long as he should desire-in peace."

Siri raised a skeptical eyebrow. "That's foolish, Tridees. If the G.o.d King gives away his Breath, he will die."

"There is a way," the priest said.

"That is supposed to be impossible."

"No, not at all. Think about it. The G.o.d King has two sources of Breath. One is his innate, divine Breath-that which makes him Returned. The other is the Breath given to him as the Treasure of Peacegiver, fifty-thousand Breath strong. That he could use as any Awakener could, as long as he is careful about the Commands he uses. He could also survive quite easily as a Returned without it. Any of the other G.o.ds could do the same, should they gain Breath beyond the one a week which sustains them."

"You keep them from realizing that, though," Siri said.

"Not keep specifically," the priest said, looking away. "It does not come up. Why would the Returned care about Awakening? They have everything they need."

"Except knowledge," Siri said. "You keep them in ignorance. I'm surprised you didn't cut out all of their tongues to hide your precious secrets."

Tridees looked back at her, face growing harsh. "You judge us still. We do what we do because it is what we must, Vessel. The power he holds in that Treasure-fifty thousand Breaths-could destroy kingdoms. It is too great a weapon; we were charged as our single, divine mission to keep it safe and not let it be used. We-"

A sound came from a nearby room. Tridees looked, concerned, and Susebron's grip on Siri's shoulder tightened.

She looked up, concerned. "Tridees," she said. "I need to know. How? How can Susebron give away his Breath? He can speak no Command!"

"I-"

At that moment, Lifeless burst through the doorway to their left. Tridees cut off, glancing at them. He yelled for her to flee, but another group of the creatures came through the other way. Siri cursed, grabbing Susebron's hand, pulling him toward another doorway. She pulled it open.

Bluefingers stood on the other side. He looked into her eyes, face grim. Lifeless stood behind him.

Siri felt a stab of terror, backing away. Sounds of fighting came from behind her, but she was too focused on the Lifeless charging around Bluefingers toward her and Susebron. The G.o.d King cried out, a tongueless, wordless groan of anger.

And then the priests were there. They threw themselves in front of the Lifeless, trying to beat them back, trying desperately to protect their G.o.d King. Siri clung to her husband in the ruddy room, watching as the priests were slaughtered by emotionless warriors with gray faces. Priest after priest jumped in the way, some with weapons, others simply holding up their arms, bearing no weapons.

She saw Tridees grit his teeth, terror showing in his eyes as he ran forward, trying to attack a Lifeless. He died like the others. His secrets died with him.

The Lifeless walked over the corpses. Susebron pushed Siri behind her, arms shaking as he backed them toward a wall, facing down the bloodied monsters. The Lifeless finally stopped, and Bluefingers walked around them, looking past Susebron toward her.

"And now, Vessel, I believe we were going somewhere."

"I'm sorry, miss," the guard said, holding up a hand. "All access to the Court of G.o.ds is forbidden."

Vivenna ground her teeth. "This is unacceptable," she said. "I'm to report to the G.o.ddess Allmother at once! Can't you see how many Breaths I hold? I'm not someone you can just turn away!"

The guards remained firm. There were a good two dozen of them at the gates, forbidding anyone who tried to enter. Vivenna turned away. Whatever Vasher had done inside the night before, he'd apparently caused quite a stir. People cl.u.s.tered around the gateway to the Court, demanding answers, asking if something was wrong. Vivenna made her through them, leaving the gates behind.

Go to the side, Nightblood said. Vasher never asks if he can enter. He just goes in.

Vivenna glanced at the side of the plateau. There was a short ledge of ground running around the outside of the wall. With the guards so distracted by the people wanting in...

She slipped to the side. There were guards on the wall above-she could feel them with her life sense. They were moving about, and it was early in the morning yet, the sun not having crested the eastern mountains. She might be able to sneak by them.

She waited until one patrol had pa.s.sed, then Awakened one of the tapestries. "Lift me," she said, dropping a drained handkerchief. The tapestry wrapped around her, drawing her into the air and setting her on the walltop. She glanced about, recovering her breath. To the side, a ways away, a group of guards was pointing at her.

You're not any better at this than Vasher is, Nightblood noted. You people can't sneak at all!

She cursed, Awakening the tapestry again, having it lower her down into the Court. She recovered her breath, then took off running across the gra.s.sy lawn. Few people were about, but that only made her stand out even more.

The palace, Nightblood said. Go there.

That was where she was going. However, the longer she held the sword, the more she was coming to realize that it said whatever it wanted, no matter whether or not its comments had any relevance. Like a child, speaking or asking questions as they occurred to it.

The front of the palace was very well guarded by a group of men who weren't wearing uniforms. He's in there, Nightblood said. I can feel him. Third floor. Where he and I were before.

Vivenna got an image of the room shoved into her head. She frowned. Remarkably useful, she thought, for an evil weapon of destruction.

I'm not evil, Nightblood said, voice not defensive, simply informative. As if reminding her of something she'd forgotten. I destroy evil. I think maybe we should destroy those men up ahead. They look evil. You should pull me out.