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Vasher calls you she.
Vivenna shot the sword a wary look. Vasher had gone to gather information on Yesteel and left Nightblood with Vivenna. “For safekeeping,” he’d said. Vivenna wasn’t sure if that meant Nightblood was keeping her safe, or if she was keeping it from slaughtering an unfortunate passerby.
And now it wants to talk, she thought, trying to focus on her Awakening. She was getting better, if slowly. She and Vasher were running low on Breath again, which made it hard to practice anything difficult. Breath was a constant problem, between Vasher and the sword. There hadn’t been many opportunities to buy more since leaving Hallandren, and far too many times when they’d had to use—and abandon—their precious supply of Breath.
Vivenna? Why are you ignoring me? Nightblood’s voice had a distinct whine to it now. It had been some time since that had surprised Vivenna. A petulant, bloodthirsty Awakened sword sounded like a contradiction until you met Nightblood.
“I’m trying to focus, Nightblood,” she said, tying a last piece of string around the bundle of cloth. A tiny doll, and with Vivenna’s eyelash it was ready to Awaken. “Can it wait?”
The sword was silent for a moment. Watching. It could see, after a fashion, though Vivenna still didn’t understand how. She supposed how Nightblood saw was a minor issue compared to its sentience.
I don’t understand, Nightblood said. Why does he call you she? Why do you call him he?
Vivenna stopped shy of Breathing into her doll. Why? A good question, one Vivenna herself had asked more times than she cared to admit. “Because I am a woman,” she said, “and Vasher is a man.” Her words were clipped, her voice edged with steel, as much for her own lie as for Nightblood’s question.
Still and silent as an ordinary sword, Nightblood still managed to give off an air of confusion that had Vivenna blowing her hair out of her eyes. Short hair, and tinged with red from her frustration. It was far more practical to keep it short, and to wear trousers and a loose, shapeless shirt.
And if that meant that sometimes Vivenna was taken for a man, well… that didn’t irk her as much as she once thought it would.
“It’s just the way things are, Nightblood,” she said. “If you’re a woman, people call you she.”
How do they know?
Vivenna nearly laughed at that. “They don’t.” A dozen conversations, a hundred sideways questions ran through Vivenna’s mind. “They all act like there’s some checklist they can run down that will tell them what to call you. Pants and short hair and a flat chest make a man. Dresses and long hair and, er, curves make a woman.”
But you’re wearing pants, Nightblood pointed out. And you cut your hair.
“I know.”
I don’t even have hair. Or clothes. Or a chest. And Vasher calls me he.
This last had a strange tone, even for Nightblood. The red in Vivenna’s hair faded to brown. “Do you want him to call you he?”
I…don’t know.
“What about she?”
Nightblood made a frustrated noise, so familiar that this time Vivenna did laugh.
“I know what you mean.”
She looked down at her discarded doll, but couldn’t make herself refocus on her practice. For so long, she’d clung to her role. Idrian Princess. The God King’s Bride. Woman. Lies, but comfortable lies. Idrian lies, designed to avoid ostentation and arrogance. She’d questioned them, but never openly. Better to wear her dresses and accept her place in Austre’s plan. Discomfort didn’t matter, as long as it didn’t get in the way of her duty.
Then she’d met Vasher, and everything she’d thought she was had come crashing down around her.
In rebuilding herself, somehow, the princess—the woman—had been left behind with the hatred and the false humility. She wasn’t sure where that left her, exactly. The young man who sometimes accompanied Vasher into strange towns was as much a lie as the woman who had come to Hallandren for her sister. A different lie, refreshing after a life of yes, Princess and My Lady and isn’t she beautiful, but a lie nonetheless.
What about people who aren’t he or she? Nightblood asked.
“I guess you just have to pretend.”
“Or you find another option.”
Vasher’s voice, close behind Vivenna, had her jumping out of her skin. She scrambled to her feet and spun around, red chasing white across her scalp. She reigned in her emotions, forced her hair to black, and stared Vasher down.
“How long have you been eavesdropping?” she demanded.
“Eavesdropping?” Vasher tilted his head like he didn’t recognize the word. He dropped his bag on the ground and sat down beside Nightblood, reclining against a tree. “I didn’t realize you felt that way, Nightblood.” He chuckled and closed his eyes. “Foolish of me, assuming the sentient sword was male.”
You said another option. I thought it was man or woman. You said it was man or woman, Nightblood said to Vivenna, sounding offended. That wasn’t very nice.
Smirking, Vasher looked closer to sleep than to an explanation, but Vivenna kicked him awake. “You can’t just say something like that and then leave it.”
“I’m tired,” he said, pushing her foot away. “The sword can wait an hour.”
That’s practically forever, Nightblood whined. You can’t make me wait that long!
“You can’t tell time,” Vasher grunted.
“But I can.” Vivenna nudged his foot with her own. “Speak up, Vasher. What did you mean?”
He cracked one eye and peeked up at her. “Three hundred years,” he said. “And you think everyone I’ve ever met was a man or a woman?”
A thrill raced through Vivenna. “You don’t mean like Nightblood? Or…or like the Lifeless or something?”
A snort. Vasher shut his eyes. “Maybe you Idrians should have paid more attention to the Returned. Even in your lifetime, there have been half a dozen who used neutral pronouns. Who knows how many other people have adopted them by now.”
“Neutral pronouns?”
“Yes.” Vasher kicked at Vivenna’s foot and crossed his arms over his chest. “Now if you wouldn’t mind, I’m trying to sleep.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” Vivenna looped her hands through his elbow and hauled him upright. Vasher scowled at her. “Don’t give me that look. You can sleep once I’m through with you.”
His glower darkened. “You know Yesteel has agents all over this region. I almost died just now.”
Vivenna looked him up and down. His clothes were as scruffy as ever, but no more. “I’m sure.”
“It was a real chase, you know. Losing them so they didn’t find you. I’m exhausted.”
“And I’m very grateful,” Vivenna said. “Now talk.”
Vasher let out a long sigh, as fine a show of exasperation as he’d ever given, but even that couldn’t wholly mask his smile as he let her pry him for answers.
Neutral pronouns.
Now that was something.