Warbreaker

by Brandon Sanderson

The Hallandren artisans’ script was a specialized system of writing that wasn’t based on form, but on color. Each colored dot represented a different sound in Hallandren’s language. Combined with some double dots—one of each color—it created an alphabet that was a nightmare for the colorblind.

He had to get through them before he could get to more important activities, like taking a nap.

That is a good sign, surely. An outright refusal would have meant war for certain.” “And whoever Certain is, I doubt we should have a war for him,” Lightsong said idly, inspecting a grape.

She wanted to run, hide, flee as far as she could. Did all women feel this way, or was it only those who were being washed, primped, and sent to please a deity with the power to destroy nations?

“Of course. Why, my dear, you’re positively rank with beauty. You’re literally part of the definition of the word—it’s in your title somewhere, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Mocking a woman is like drinking too much wine. It may be fun for a short time, but the hangover is hell.”

“I try to avoid having thoughts. They lead to other thoughts, and—if you’re not careful—those lead to actions. Actions make you tired. I have this on rather good authority from someone who once read it in a book.”

“Unfortunately, Parlin,” Vivenna said, “people aren’t like animals.” “I am aware of that,” Parlin said. “Animals make sense.”

Do you think a surgeon has this problem? Do people worry that the moment they’re done paying him, he’ll laugh maniacally and cut off their toes?”

“Nonsense,” he said. “You just have to promise me that I won’t have to do a thing, and then I’ll do anything you want.” “Anything?” “Anything that doesn’t require doing anything.” “That’s nothing, then.” “Is it?” “Yes.” “Well, that’s something!” Blushweaver rolled her eyes.

If cows could Return, they’d undoubtedly be ranked higher than I.”

“Fluffy and pretty on the outside, without much of import on the inside. But I guess that is beside the point. You, my dear, are a very welcome sight. Much more so than a grape.”

“Perhaps she’d rather we buy puppies for all of her enemies, then send them with nice apologetic notes, asking them to stop being so mean.” “And then,” Tonk Fah said, “when they don’t stop, we could kill the puppies!”

The God King sat, looking confused but thoughtful. You are very normal, he finally wrote. Siri frowned. “Um. Thank you?” Was that good sarcasm? he wrote. Because in reality, you are quite strange. She smiled. “I try my best.”

“These stories,” she said. “Your desire to treat people well. Is that what kept you from … taking me on any of those nights when I first came into the room?” From taking you? I do not understand. Siri blushed, hair turning red to match. “I mean, why did you just sit there?” Because I did not know what else to do, he said. I knew that we need to have a child. So I sat and waited for it to happen. We must be doing something wrong, for no child has come.

“You know you died in a brave way, Your Grace.” “It could have been a really high stump.”

“My sympathies, Your Grace, that you have been inconvenienced by a semblance of motivation.”

“Ah, I see,” Denth said flatly. “Tonk Fah?” “Yes?” “You’re an idiot.” “Thanks.”

must only speak what I see. There is nothing so wonderful as you, even in my entire court. The mountains must be special indeed, to produce such beauty.

“Now you’re just being silly.” “Now?” Lightsong asked. “Now?” He raised a cup of wine toward her. “My dear, I am always silly. Please be good enough to retract that statement at once!”

So let us spend our time wisely. We never know when we will run out!” “Of time?” Siri asked. “But you’re immortal!” “Not run out of time,” Lightsong said, holding up his plate. “Of grapes. I hate listening to storytellers without grapes.”

“I learned it many, many years ago from a man who didn’t know who he was, Your Majesty. It was a distant place where two lands meet and gods have died. But that is unimportant.”

am now proposing to believe that God—or the universe, or time, or whatever you think controls all of this—is all really just a drunk monkey.”

“My dear, did you just try to prove the existence of God with your cleavage?”

“Do I need to wriggle my breasts at you again?” “No, please. I don’t know if I’d be able to stand the theological debate that would follow.”

She didn’t have much, but she did have one thing that the priests wanted: her womb. It seemed that she could hold it for ransom effectively,

“You were a scribe,” Llarimar said quietly to the damp air. “And you were one of the best men I’d ever known. You were my brother.” Lightsong looked up. Llarimar stared out through the bars, at one of the flickering lanterns hanging from the stark stone wall. “I was a priest, even then. I worked in the palace of Kindwinds the Honest. I saw how he lied to play political games. The longer I stayed in that palace, the more my faith waned.” He fell silent for a moment, then he looked up. “And then you died. Died rescuing my daughter. That’s the girl you see in your visions, Lightsong. The description is perfect. She was your favorite niece. Still would be, I assume. If you hadn’t …” He shook his head. “When we found you dead, I lost hope. I was going to resign my position. I knelt above your body, weeping. And then, the Colors started to glow. You lifted your head, body changing, getting larger, muscles growing stronger. “I knew it at that moment. I knew that if a man like you were chosen to Return—a man who had died to save another—then the Iridescent Tones were real. The visions were real. And the gods were real. You gave me back my faith, Stennimar.” He met Lightsong’s eyes. “You are a god. To me, at least. It doesn’t matter how easily you can be killed, how much Breath you have, or how you look. It has to do with who you are and what you mean.”