Warbreaker

Chapter 30

“We’re not supposed to worry about the people we were before,” Blushweaver said.

“I’m a god,” Lightsong said, taking back a plate containing the peeled and sliced guava, then offering a piece to Blushweaver. “And, by Kalad’s Phantoms, I’ll worry about whatever I please.”

She paused, then smiled and took a slice. “Just when I thought I had you figured out . . .”

“You didn’t have me figured out,” he said lightly. “And neither did I. That’s the point. Shall we go?”

She nodded, joining him as they began to cross the lawn, their servants bringing parasols to shade them. “You can’t tell me that you’ve never wondered,” Lightsong said.

“My dear,” she replied, sucking on a guava piece, “I was boring before.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I was an ordinary person! I would have been . . . Well, have you seen regular women?”

“Their proportions aren’t quite up to your standards, I know,” he said. “But many are quite attractive.”

Blushweaver shivered. “Please. Why would you want to know about your normal life? What if you were a murderer or a rapist? Worse, what if you had bad fashion sense?”

He snorted at the twinkle in her eye. “You act so shallow. But I see the curiosity. You should try some of these things, let them tell you a little of who you were. There must have been something special about you for you to have Returned.”

“Hum,” she said, smiling and sidling up to him. He stopped as she ran her finger down the front of his chest. “Well, if you’re trying new things today, maybe there’s something else you ought to think about. . . .”

“Don’t try to change the subject.”

“I’m not,” she said. “But, how will you know who you were if you don’t try? It would be an . . . experiment.”

Lightsong laughed, pushing her hand away. “My dear, I fear you would find me less than satisfactory.”

“I think you overestimate me.”

“That’s impossible.”

She paused, flushing slightly.

“Uh . . .” Lightsong said. “Hum. I didn’t exactly mean . . .”

“Oh, bother,” she said. “Now you’ve spoiled the moment. I was about to say something very clever, I just know it.”

He smiled. “Both of us, at a loss for words in one afternoon. I do believe we’re losing our touch.”

“My touch is perfectly fine, which you’d discover if you’d just let me show you.”

He rolled his eyes and continued to walk. “You’re hopeless.”

“When all else fails, use sexual innuendo,” she said lightly, joining him. “It always brings the focus back to where it belongs. On me.”

“Hopeless,” he said again. “But, I doubt we have time for me to chastise you again. We’ve arrived.”

Indeed, Hopefinder’s palace was before them. Lavender and silver, it had a pavilion out front prepared with three tables and food. Naturally, Blushweaver and Lightsong had arranged for the meeting ahead of time.

Hopefinder the Just, god of innocence and beauty, stood up as they approached. He appeared to be about thirteen years old. By apparent physical age, he was the youngest of the gods in the court. But they weren’t supposed to acknowledge such discrepancies. After all, he’d Returned when his body had been two, which made him—in god years—Lightsong’s senior by six years. In a place where most gods didn’t last twenty years, and the average age was probably closer to ten, six years difference was very significant.