For some reason, she doubted that would be a good idea.

Come on, Nightblood said.

The soldiers were pointing at her. She glanced behind, and saw others rushing across the lawn. Austre, forgive me, she thought. Then, gritting her teeth, she threw Nightblood-blanket and all-toward the guards in front of the building.

They halted. To a man, they looked down at the sword as it rolled free of the blanket, silver sheath glistening on the lawn. Well, I guess this works too, Nightblood noted, voice feeling distant now.

One of the soldiers picked up the sword. Vivenna dashed to the side, ignored by the soldiers. They started to fight.

Can't go that way, she thought, eying the front entrance, not wanting to risk pushing her way through fighting men. So instead she ran to the side of the ma.s.sive palace. The lower levels were made of the step-like black blocks which gave the palace its pyramid-like feel. Above these, it grew into a more traditional fortress, with steep walls. There were windows, if she could get to them.

She twitched her fingers, making the ta.s.sels on her sleeves clench and unclench. Then she jumped, her Awakened leggings tossing her up a few extra feet. She reached up and made the ta.s.sels grab the edge of the large, black block. The ta.s.sels held, just barely, gripping the stone like foot-long fingers. With difficulty, Vivenna pulled herself up onto the block.

Men yelled and screamed below, and she spared a glance. The guard who had grabbed Nightblood was fighting off the others, a small trail of black smoke swirling around him. As she watched, he backed into the palace itself, the other men following him.

So much evil, Nightblood said, like a woman tisk'ing as she cleaned cobwebs from her ceiling.

Vivenna turned away, feeling guilty for giving the sword to the men. She jumped up and pulled herself onto the next block, continuing as the soldiers who had seen her from the walls arrived. They wore the colors of the city watch, and while a couple of them got caught up in the Nightblood fight, most of them ignored it.

Vivenna continued her way up.

To the right, Nightblood said distantly. That window on the third floor. Two over. He's in there...

And his voice faded. Vivenna looked up, glancing at the window indicated. She still had to climb up a number of blocks then somehow reach a window that was an entire story up a sheer, steep wall. There did appear to be some stonework that could make for handholds, but she grew dizzy at even thinking about climbing them.

An arrow snapped against the stone beside her, making her jump. Several guards below had bows.

Colors! she thought, and pulling herself upon the next block. She heard a whoosh behind her, and cringed, feeling as if she should have been struck. Nothing happened. She pulled herself up onto the block, then twisted around.

She barely caught sight of her cloak holding an arrow. She started, remembering that she had Awakened it. It dropped the arrow, then returned to normal.

Handy, that, she thought, climbing up the last block. By the time she got up on top of it, her arms were sore and tired, and her legs were doing little better. Fortunately, her Awakened fingers were still gripping as well as ever. She took a deep breath, then began to climb up the outside of the black fortress, using the handholds.

And decided, for her own sanity, that she'd probably better avoid looking down.

Lightsong stared ahead. Too much information. Too much was happening. Blushweaver's death and Llarimar's revelation, all in such quick succession.

He sat in his cell, arms wrapped around himself, gold and red robes dirtied from crawling through the tunnel, then sitting in his cage.

The priests talked quietly on the far side of the room. Oddly, as he glanced at them, something took his mind away from everything else. A diversion, of sorts.

He finally realized what was bothering him about them. He should have seen it earlier. It had to do with color-not the color of their clothing, but the color of their faces. It was just slightly off. The deviation in one man would have been easy to ignore. But all of them together... it was a pattern.

No regular person could have noticed it. To a man with his Heightenings, it seemed obvious, once he knew what to look for.

These men were not from Hallandren.

Anyone can wear a set of robes, he realized. That doesn't mean that they're priests. In fact, judging by the faces, he realized the men must be from Pahn Kahl.

And it all made sense to him, that quickly. They'd all been played for fools.

"Bluefingers," Siri demanded. "Talk to me. What are you going to do with us?"

The labyrinth of the G.o.d King's palace was complex, and it was sometimes difficult even still for her to find her way about. They'd traveled down a stairwell but now seemed to be going up a different one.

Bluefingers didn't answer. He walked with his customary nervousness, wringing his hands. The fighting in the hallways seemed to be decreasing. In fact, once they left the stairwell, this newest hallway was dreadfully quiet.

Siri walked with Susebron's nervous arm around her waist. She didn't know what he was thinking-they hadn't been able to pause long enough for him to write anything. He gave her a comforting smile, but she knew that this all must be just as terrifying for him as it was for her. Probably more so.

"You can't do this, Bluefingers," Siri said, snapping at the little balding man.

"It is the only way we'd ever be able to break free," Bluefingers said, not turning, but finally responding to her.

"But, you can't!" Siri said. "The Idrians are innocent!"

Bluefingers shook his head. "How many of my people would you sacrifice, if it would mean the freedom for yours?"

"None!" she said.

"I should like to see you say that if our positions were reversed," he said, still not meeting her eyes. "I'm... sorry for your pain. But your people are not innocent. They're the same as the Hallandren. In the Manywar, you rolled over us, made us your workers and slaves. Only at the end, when the Royal family fled, did Idris and Hallandren split."

"Please," Siri said.

Susebron suddenly punched a Lifeless.

The G.o.d King growled, struggling as he kicked at another. There were dozens of them. He looked at her, waving a hand, motioning for her to flee. She didn't intend to leave him. Instead, she tried to grab Bluefingers, but a Lifeless was too quick. It took her arm, holding her firm, even when she batted at it. A couple of men in the robes of Susebron's priesthood came out of a stairwell ahead of them, carrying lanterns. Siri, looking closely, immediately recognized them as being from Pahn Kahl. They were too short and their skin was just faintly off.

I've been a fool, she thought.

Bluefingers had played the game so well. He'd driven a wedge between her and the priests from the start. Most of her concern and worry, she'd gotten from him-and it had been reinforced by the priest's arrogance. All part of his plan to someday use her to gain freedom for his people.

"We have Lightsong's security phrase," one of the new men said to Bluefingers. "We have checked it, and it works. We changed it to the new one. The rest of the Lifeless are ours."

Siri glanced to the side. The Lifeless had pulled Susebron to the ground. He yelled-though it came out as more a moan. Siri yanked, trying to escape her Lifeless and help him. She began to cry.

To the side, Bluefingers nodded to his accomplices, looking fatigued. "Very well. Give the Command. Order the Lifeless to march on Idris."

"It will be done," the man said, laying a hand on Bluefingers' shoulder.

Bluefingers nodded, looking morose as the others withdrew.

"What do you have to be sad about?" she spat.

Bluefingers turned toward her. "My friends now are the only ones who know the Command Phrases for Hallandren's Lifeless army. Once those Lifeless march on Idris-with orders to destroy everything they find there-my friends will kill themselves with poison. There won't be ably left alive who can stop the creatures."

Austre... Siri thought, feeling numb. Lord of Colors...

"Take the G.o.d King below," Bluefingers said, waving to several Lifeless. "Hold him until it is time." They were joined by a Pahn Kahl scribe wearing fake priest's robes as they towed Susebron toward the stairwell. Siri reached for him. He continued to struggle, reaching back, but the Lifeless were too strong. She listened to his yells echoing down the stairwell.

"What will you do with him?" Siri asked, tears cold on her cheeks.

Bluefingers glanced at her, but once again, would not meet her eyes. "There will be many in the Hallandren government who see the Lifeless charge as a political faux pas, and they may seek to stop the war. Unless Hallandren actually commits itself to this fight, then our sacrifice will be useless."

"I don't understand."

"We will take the bodies of Lightsong and Blushweaver-the two G.o.ds with the Command Phrases-and leave them in the Lifeless barracks, surrounded by dead Idrians we took from the city. Then we will leave the corpse of the G.o.d King to be discovered in the palace dungeons. Those who investigate will a.s.sume that Idrian a.s.sa.s.sins attacked and killed him-we've hired enough mercenaries from the Idrian slums that it shouldn't be too difficult to believe. Those of my scribes who survive the night will confirm the story."

Siri blinked out tears. Everyone will a.s.sume that Blushweaver and Lightsong sent the armies as retribution for the death of the G.o.d King.

And with the king dead, the people will be furious.

"I wish you hadn't gotten involved in all of this," Bluefingers said, motioning for her Lifeless captors to pull her along. "It would have been easier for me if you'd been able to keep yourself from getting pregnant."

"I'm not!" she said.

"The people think you are," he said with a sigh as they walked toward the stairwell. "And that's enough. We have to break this government and we have to make the Idrians mad enough to want to destroy the Hallandren. I think your people will do better in this war everyone says, especially if the Lifeless march without leadership. Your people will ambush them, making sure this is not an easy war for either side."

He glanced at her. "But, for this war to work right, the Idrians have to want to fight. Otherwise, they'll flee and vanish into those highlands. No, both sides have to hate each other, pull as many allies into the battle as possible so that everyone is to distracted ..."

And what better way to make Idris willing to fight, she thought with horror, than to kill me? Both sides will see the death of my child as an act of war. This won't simply be a fight for domination. It will be a drawn out war of hatred. The fighting could last for decades.

And n.o.body will ever realize that our real enemy-the one who started it all-is the peaceful, quiet province to the south of Hallandren.

Chapter Fifty-Six.

Vivenna hung outside the window, breathing deeply, sweating heavily. She'd peeked inside. Denth was in there, as was Tonk Fah. Vasher hung from a rope at the ceiling. He was bloodied, and he held no Breath, but he seemed to be alive.

Can I stop both Denth and Tonk Fah? she thought. Her arms were tired. She had a length of Awakened rope in her pocket. What if she threw it and missed? She had seen Denth fight. He was faster than she'd thought possible. She would have to surprise him. And if she missed, she would die.

What am I doing? she thought. Hanging from a wall, about to challenge two professional soldiers?

Her recent past gave her the strength to push down her fear. They might kill her, but that would be a quick end. She'd survived betrayals, deaths of friends, and a time going mad from the fatigue, hunger, and terror of living on the streets. She'd been pushed down, forced to admit that she'd betrayed her people. There wasn't really any more they could do to her.

For some reason, those thoughts gave her power. Surprised at her own determination, she quietly recovered the Breath from her cloak and her leggings. She Awakened a pair of rope bits, telling them to grab when thrown. She said a quiet prayer to Austre, then pulled herself up through the window and into the room.

Vasher was groaning. Tonk Fah was dozing in the corner. Denth, holding a b.l.o.o.d.y knife, looked up immediately as she hopped through the window. The look of utter shock on his face was, in itself, almost worth everything she'd been through. She tossed the rope at him then threw the other at Tonk Fah.

Denth reacted immediately, cutting the rope out of the air with his dagger. The pieces of it twisted and wiggled, but weren't long enough to grab anything. The one she threw at Tonk Fah, however, hit. He cried out, coming awake as it wrapped around his face and neck.

Vivenna pulled to a halt beside Vasher's swinging body. Denth had his sword out; he'd pulled it free more quickly than she could track. She gulped, then pulled out her own sword, holding it forward as Vasher had taught her. Denth paused just briefly in surprise.

That was enough. She swung-not for Denth, but for the rope holding Vasher to the ceiling. He fell with a grunt, and Denth struck, slamming the point of his dueling blade through her shoulder.

She fell, gasping in pain.

Denth stepped back. "Well, Princess," he said, warily holding his blade. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Tonk Fah made a gagging sound as the rope twisted around his neck, choking him. He struggled to pull it free with little success.

Once, the pain in her shoulder might have been dehabilitating. But after the beatings she'd taken on the street, it seemed somewhat familiar to her. She looked up, and met Denth's eyes.

"Was this supposed to be a rescue?" Denth asked. "Because honestly, I'm not very impressed."

Tonk Fah knocked over his stool in his thrashing. Denth glanced at him, then back at Vivenna. There was a moment of silence, save for Tonk Fah's weakening struggles. Finally, Denth cursed and jumped over to cut at the rope on his friend's neck.

"You all right?" Vasher asked from beside her. She was shocked by how solid his voice sounded, despite his bloodied body.

She nodded.

"They're going to send Lifeless marching on your homeland," he said. "We've been wrong about this all along. I don't know who's behind it, but I think they're winning the fight for the palace."

Denth finally got the rope cut free.

"You need to run," Vasher said, wiggling his hands free from their rope bonds. "Get back to your people, tell them not to fight the Lifeless. They need to flee the country, head through the northern pa.s.ses, hide in the highlands. Do not fight or bring other kingdoms into the war."

Vivenna glanced back at Denth, who was smacking Tonk Fah back awake. Then she closed her eyes. "Your Breath to mine," she said, drawing back in the Breath from her hand ta.s.sels. She reached out, placing her hand on Vasher's back.

"Vivenna..." he said.

"My life to yours," she said. "My Breath become yours."

Her world became a thing dullness. Beside her, Vasher gasped, then began to convulse at the bestowal of Breath. Denth stood up, spinning.

"You do it, Vasher," Vivenna whispered. "You'll be far better at it than I will be."

"Stubborn woman," Vasher said as he overcame the convulsions. He reached out, as if to restore her Breath to her, but he noticed Denth.

Denth smiled, raising his blade. Vivenna put a hand to her shoulder, stopping the blood flow, and she began to push herself back toward the window-though, without Breath, she wasn't certain what she intended to do there.

Vasher stood up, taking her sword in his hand. He wore only the b.l.o.o.d.y undershorts, but his stance was firm. He slowly wrapped the rope that had been holding him up around his waist, forming his characteristic belt.

How does he do it? she thought. Where does his strength come from?

"I should have hurt you more," Denth said. "I took my time. Savoring it too much."

Vasher snorted, tying off the belt. Denth seemed to be waiting, antic.i.p.ating something.