Warbreaker

Chapter 10

“We could bring you his fingers as proof of our good faith,” Tonk Fah said. “Would that help?

Vivenna raised an eyebrow. “Mercenary humor?”

“Such that it is,” Denth said with a sigh. “We’re not generally a clever lot. Otherwise, we’d probably have selected a profession without such a high mortality rate.”

“Like your profession, Princess,” Tonks said. “Good lifespans, usually. I’ve often wondered if I should apprentice myself to one.”

Vivenna frowned as the two men chuckled. Lemex wouldn’t have broken under torture, she thought. He’s too well trained. Even if he had broken, he wouldn’t have included both the real password and the false one.

“Let’s go,” she said, standing.

“Wait,” Tonk Fah said, spoon to lips, “we’re skipping the rest of our meal?”

Vivenna eyed the red-colored soup and its bobbing crustacean limbs. “Definitely.”

Lemex coughed quietly. His aged face was streaked with sweat, his skin clammy and pale, and he occasionally gave a whispered mumble of delirious ramblings.

Vivenna sat on a stool beside his bed, hands in her lap. The two mercenaries waited with Parlin at the back of the room. The only other person present was a solemn nurse—the same woman who had informed Vivenna in a quiet voice that nothing more could be done.

Lemex was dying. It was unlikely that he would last the day.

This was the first Vivenna had seen Lemex’s face, though she’d often corresponded with him. The face looked . . . wrong. She knew that Lemex was growing old; that made him a better spy, for few looked for spies among the elderly. Yet he wasn’t supposed to be this frail stick of a person, shaking and coughing. He was supposed to be a spry, quick-tongued old gentleman. That was what she had imagined.

She felt like she was losing one of her dearest friends, though she had never really known him. With him went her refuge in Hallandren, her secret advantage. He was the one she had supposed would make this insane plan of hers work. The skilled, crafty mentor she had counted on having at her side.

He coughed again. The nurse glanced at Vivenna. “He goes in and out of lucidity, my lady. Just this morning, he spoke of you, but now he’s getting worse and worse. . . .”

“Thank you,” Vivenna said quietly. “You are excused.”

The woman bowed and left.

Now it is time to be a princess, Vivenna thought, rising and leaning over Lemex’s bed.

“Lemex,” she said. “I need you to pass on your knowledge. How do I contact your spy networks? Where are the other Idrian agents in the city? What are the passcodes that will get them to listen to me?”

He coughed, staring unseeingly, whispering something. She leaned closer.

“. . . never say it,” he said. “You can torture me all that you want. I won’t give in.”

Vivenna sat back. By design, the Idrian spy network in Hallandren was loosely orga nized. Her father knew all of their agents, but Vivenna had only ever communicated with Lemex, the leader and coordinator of the network. She gritted her teeth, leaning forward again. She felt like a grave robber as she shook Lemex’s head slightly.

“Lemex, look at me. I’m not here to torture you. I’m the princess. You received a letter from me earlier. Now I’ve come to you.”

“Can’t fool me,” the old man whispered. “Your torture is nothing. I won’t give it up. Not to you.”