Warbreaker

Chapter 43

Vivenna awoke, sick, tired, thirsty, starving. But alive.

She opened her eyes, feeling a strange sensation. Comfort. She was in a comfortable soft bed. She sat up immediately; her head spun. “I’d be careful,” a voice said. “Your body is weak.”

She blinked fuzzy eyes, focusing on a figure sitting at a table a short distance away, his back to her. He appeared to be eating. A black sword in a silver sheath rested against the table. “You,” she whispered. “Me,” he said between bites. She looked down at herself. She wasn’t wearing her shift anymore, but instead had on a set of soft cotton sleeping garments. Her body was clean. She raised a hand to her hair, feeling that the tangles and mats were gone. It was still white. She felt so strange to be clean. “Did you rape me?” she asked quietly.

He snorted. “A woman who’s been to Denth’s bed holds no temptation for me.”

“I never slept with him,” she said, though she didn’t know why she cared to tell him. Vasher turned, face still framed by the patchy, ragged beard. His clothing was far less fine than her own. He studied her eyes. “He had you fooled, didn’t he?”

She nodded.

“Idiot.”

She nodded again.

He turned back to his meal. “The woman who runs this building,” he said. “I paid her to bathe you, dress you, and change your bedpan. I never touched you.”

She frowned. “What . . . happened?”

“Do you remember the fight on the street?”

“With your sword?”

He nodded.

“Vaguely. You saved me.”

“I kept a tool out of Denth’s hands,” he said. “That’s all that really matters.”

“Thank you anyway.”

He was silent for a few moments. “You’re welcome,” he finally said.

“Why do I feel so ill?”

“Tramaria,” the man said. “It’s a disease you don’t have in the highlands. Insect bites spread it. You probably got it a few weeks before I found you. It stays with you, if you’re weak.”

She put a hand to her head.

“You probably had a pretty bad time lately,” Vasher noted. “What with the dizziness, the dementia, and the hunger.”

“Yes,” she said.

“You deserved it.” He continued to eat.

She didn’t move for a long moment. His food smelled so good, but she’d apparently been fed during the fevers, for she wasn’t as famished as she might have expected. Just mildly hungry. “How long was I unconscious?” she asked.

“A week,” he said. “You should sleep some more.”

“What are you going to do with me?”

He didn’t reply. “The BioChromatic Breaths you had,” he said. “You gave them to Denth?”

She paused, thinking. “Yes.”

He glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” she admitted, looking away. “I put them in the shawl I was wearing.”

He stood, leaving the room. She considered running. Instead, she got out of the bed and began to eat his food—a fish, whole and fried. Seafood didn’t bother her anymore.