Warbreaker

Chapter 23

Lightsong found Blushweaver in the grassy portion of the courtyard behind her palace. She was enjoying the art of one of the city’s master gardeners.

Lightsong strolled through the grass, his entourage hovering around him, holding up a large parasol to shield him from the sun, and generally seeing that he was suitably pampered. He passed hundreds of planters, pots, and vases filled with various kinds of growing things, all arranged into elaborate formal patterns and rows.

Temporary flower beds. The gods were too godly to leave the court and visit the city gardens, so the gardens had to be brought to them. Such an enormous undertaking required dozens of workers and carts full of plants. Nothing was too good for the gods.

Except, of course, freedom.

Blushweaver stood admiring one of the patterns of vases. She noticed Lightsong as he approached, his moving BioChroma successively making the flowers shine more vibrantly in the afternoon sunlight. She was wearing a surprisingly modest dress. It had no sleeves and appeared to be made entirely of a single wrapping of green silk, but it covered up the essential bits and then some.

“Lightsong, dear,” she said, smiling. “Visiting a lady in her home? How charmingly forward. Well, enough of this small talk. Let us retire to the bedroom.”

He smiled, holding up a sheet of paper as he approached her.

She paused, then accepted it. The front was covered with colored dots—the artisans’ script. “What is this?” she asked.

“I figured I knew how our conversation would begin,” he said. “And so I saved us the trouble of having to go through it. I had it written out beforehand.”

Blushweaver raised an eyebrow, then read. “ ‘To start, Blushweaver says something that is mildly suggestive.’ ” She glanced at him. “Mildly? I invited you to the bedroom. I’d call that blatant.”

“I underestimated you,” Lightsong said. “Please continue.”

“ ‘Then Lightsong says something to deflect her,’ ” Blushweaver read. “ ‘It is so incredibly charming and clever that she is left stunned by his brilliance and cannot speak for several minutes . . .’ Oh, honestly, Lightsong. Do I have to read this?”

“It’s a masterpiece,” he said. “Best work I’ve ever done. Please, the next part is important.”

She sighed. “ ‘Blushweaver says something about politics which is dreadfully boring but she offsets it by wiggling her chest. After that, Lightsong apologizes for being so distant lately. He explains that he had some things to work out.’ ” She paused, eyeing him. “Does this mean that you’re finally ready to be part of my plans?”

He nodded. To the side, a group of gardeners removed the flowers. They returned in waves, building a pattern of small blossoming trees in large pots around Blushweaver and Lightsong, a living kaleidoscope with the two Returned gods at its center.

“I don’t think that the queen is involved in a plot to take the throne,” Lightsong said. “Although I’ve spoken with her only briefly, I am convinced.”

“Then why agree to join with me?”

He stood quietly for a moment, enjoying the blossoms. “Because,” he said. “I intend to see that you don’t crush her. Or the rest of us.”

“My dear Lightsong,” Blushweaver said, pursing bright red lips. “I assure you that I’m harmless.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I doubt that.”

“Now, now,” she said, “you should never point out a lady’s departure from strict truth. Anyway, I’m glad you came. We have work to do.”