Warbreaker

Get flamboyant.

In the distance, she could see the plateau that held the Court of Gods, the most profane place beneath Austre’s colorful eyes. Inside its walls, within the God King’s terrible palace, Siri was being held captive, prisoner of Susebron himself. Logically, Vive

But it was hard for Vive

The God King would demand an heir. That was to have been Vive

Her father had made his decision; the best one for Idris. Vive

This wasn’t something her father could condone. So she hadn’t told him. Better for him to be able to deny involvement if things went wrong.

Vive

Parlin had been easy enough to persuade. He trusted her, perhaps too much, and he had intimate knowledge of the paths and trails leading down to Hallandren. He’d been as far as the city walls on one scouting trip a year back. With his help, she’d been able to recruit a few of his friends—also woodsmen—to protect her and be part of her “expedition.” She’d sent the rest of them back earlier that morning. They would be of little use in the city, where she had already arranged for other allies to be her protection. Parlin’s friends would carry word to her father, who would already have heard of what she’d done. Before leaving, she’d arranged for her maid to deliver a letter to him. Counting off the days, she realized that her letter would be delivered that very evening.

She didn’t know what her father’s reaction would be. Perhaps he would covertly send soldiers to retrieve her. Perhaps he’d leave her be. She’d warned him that if she saw Idris soldiers searching for her, she would simply go to the Court of Gods, explain that there had been a mistake, and trade herself for her sister.

She sincerely hoped she wouldn’t have to do that. The God King was not to be trusted; he might take Vive

Don’t think about that, Vive

Better to find another way. The first step was to find Lemex, her father’s chief spy in Hallandren. Vive

Her plan seemed good. She was prepared. Why, then, did she feel so utterly daunted when she entered the market?

She stood quietly, a rock in the stream of human traffic flooding down the street. It was such an enormous expanse, covered in tents, pens, buildings, and people. There were no cobblestones here, only sand and dirt with the occasional patch of grass, and there didn’t appear to be much reason or direction to the arrangement of buildings. The arbitrary streets had simply been made where people felt like going. Merchants yelled out what they sold, ba

“Wow,” Parlin said quietly.

Vive

“Yeah,” Parlin said, eyes a little glazed over. “Wow again.”

Vive

Parlin nodded. “This way.”

Vive

Parlin’s familiar presence was welcome as the powerful wave of scents, sounds, and sights tried to drown her. In some places the crowds grew so thick that they had to shove their way through. On occasion, Vive

Parlin walked in, immediately stepping to the side and crouching, almost like a wolf, as he let his eyes adjust to the dimness. Vive

Parlin didn’t sit, but remained standing beside her chair, watching the room. He looked as tense as she felt. “Vive

She started, realizing that her hair had lightened from the trauma of pushing her way through the crowd. It hadn’t bleached completely white—she was far too well trained for that—but it had grown whiter, as if it had been powdered.

Feeling a jolt of paranoia, Vive

You’re better than this, she told herself sternly. You’ve studied Hallandren for most of your life. Her hair darkened, returning to its brown. The change was subtle enough that if someone had been watching, they would have probably thought it to be a trick of the light. She kept the shawl up, feeling ashamed. One walk through the market, and she lost control?

Think of Siri, she told herself. That gave her strength. Her mission was impromptu, even reckless, but it was important. Calm once again, she put the shawl back down and waited while Parlin chose a dish—a seafood stew—and the i