Warbreaker

Vasher gestured to the side. There was another tunnel a few feet to the side of the one they were hiding in. Vivenna’s heart jumped in shock as Vasher crept into the room and toward the second 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 into the shadows of the large room, feeling exposed with the firelight to her back. Vasher didn’t go 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 wasn’t so much a tunnel as a nook. Nestled against the back of the nook was a cage, about as high 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 lines on her cheeks, which had been streaked 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-illuminating his face with the light 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 too look away from him.



The 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 tassels 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 tassels releasing it.



The sword hit the dirt of the cellar floor; Vasher’s hand snapped up, grabbing the thief’s face. The tassels wrapped around the man’s head like a squid’s tentacles. Vasher slammed the man backward and down into the ground—kneeling as he did to add 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 entangled 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. And, for some reason, he seemed larger than he had a few moments ago. Taller. Broader of shoulders. More threatening.



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 passed, earning a grunt.



“Colorless monsters,” he whispered, looking into the cage. He no longer seemed larger, and she decided that what she’d seen must have just been a trick of the light. He reached into the cage, holding 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.”



“Then how? Why did she come to you?”



He didn’t answer. “Come on,” he said. “I attacked the ones who came running down when they heard screams. But more might return.”



He looked like he almost wished that would happen. He turned toward the exit tunnel, and Vivenna followed.

* * *



THEY IMMEDIATELY MOVED toward one of the rich neighborhoods of T’Telir. Vasher didn’t say much as they walked, and the girl was even more unresponsive. Vivenna worried for the child’s mind. She had obviously had a rough couple of months.



They passed from shanties, to tenements, to decent homes on tree-lined streets with burning lanterns. As they reached the mansions, Vasher paused on the street, setting the girl down. “Child,” he said. “I’m going to say some words to you. I want you to repeat them. Repeat them, and mean them.”



The girl regarded him absently, nodding slightly.



He glanced at Vivenna. “Back away.”



She opened her mouth to object, but thought better of it. She stepped back out of earshot. Fortunately, Vasher was near a lit streetlamp, so she could see him well. He spoke to the little girl, and she spoke back to him.



After opening the cage, Vivenna had taken the Breath back from the thread. She hadn’t stowed it somewhere else. And, with the extra awareness she had, she thought she saw something. The girl’s BioChromatic aura—the normal one that all people had—flickered just slightly.



It was faint. Yet with the First Heightening, Vivenna could have sworn she saw it.



But Denth told me it was all or nothing, she thought. You have to give away all the Breath you hold. And you certainly can’t give away part of a breath.



Denth, it had been proven in other instances, was also a liar.



Vasher stood, the girl climbing back into his arms. Vivenna walked up and was surprised to hear the girl talking. “Where’s Daddy?” she asked.



Vasher didn’t reply.



“I’m dirty,” the girl said, looking down. “Mommy doesn’t like it when I get dirty. The dress is dirty too.”



Vasher began walking. Vivenna hurriedly caught up.



“Are we going home?” the girl asked. “Where have we been? It’s late, and I shouldn’t be out. Who’s that woman?”



She doesn’t remember, Vivenna realized. Doesn’t remember where she’s been . . . probably doesn’t remember anything of the entire experience.



Vivenna looked again at Vasher, walking with his ragged beard, eyes forward, child in one arm, Nightblood in the other. He walked right up to a mansion’s gates then kicked them open. He moved onto the mansion grounds, and Vivenna following more nervously.



A pair of guard dogs began barking. They howled and growled, getting closer. Vivenna cringed. Yet, as soon as they saw Vasher, they grew quiet, then trailed along happily, one hopping up and trying to lick his hands.



What in the name of the Colors is going on?



Some people were gathering at the front of the mansion, holding lanterns, trying to see what had caused the barking. One saw Vasher, said something to the others, then disappeared back inside. By the time Vivenna and Vasher had reached the front patio, a man had appeared at the front doors. He wore a white nightgown and was guarded by a couple of soldiers. They stepped forward to block Vasher, but the man in the nightgown rushed between them, crying out. He wept as he took the child from Vasher’s arms.



“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”



Vivenna stood quietly, staying back. The dogs continued to lick Vasher’s hands, though they noticeably avoided Nightblood.



The man clutched his child before finally surrendering her to a woman who had just arrived—the child’s mother, Vivenna assumed. The woman exclaimed in joy, taking the girl.



“Why have you returned her?” the man said, looking at Vasher.



“Those who took her have been punished,” Vasher said in his quiet, gruff voice. “That’s all that should matter to you right now.”



The man squinted. “Do I know you, stranger?”



“We’ve met,” Vasher said. “I asked you to argue against the war.”



“That’s right!” the man said. “You didn’t need to encourage me. But when they took Misel away from me . . . I had to stay quiet about what had happened, had to change my arguments, or they said they’d kill her.”



Vasher turned away, moving to walk back down the path. “Take your child, keep her safe.” He paused, turning back. “And make certain this kingdom doesn’t use its Lifeless for a slaughter.”



The man nodded, still weeping. “Yes, yes. Of course. Thank you. Thank you so much.”



Vasher continued walking. Vivenna rushed after him, eyeing the dogs. “How did you make them stop barking?”



He didn’t respond.



She glanced back at the mansion.



“You have redeemed yourself,” he said quietly, passing the dark gates.