She hummed to Betrayal. She didn’t deserve that. She’d just told him how she was trying to rebuild the listeners. But he hummed louder to Confidence, so she aligned her rhythm to his.
“I’ll try,” she said.
* * *
Though Raboniel often spent her time down near the crystal pillar—or with the human scholars in the chambers nearby—the Lady of Wishes had indicated she would be about other duties today. By asking around, Venli found that she was for some reason at the Blackthorn’s former rooms.
Venli stepped inside, where an unusual number of Fused had gathered and were systematically going through the warlord’s belongings—cataloguing them, making notations about them, and packing them away. Venli passed through and saw one crate contained socks: each pair recorded and carefully stored.
They were putting all of his things into storage, but why had they dedicated Fused to such a mundane job? What was more, these were important Fused, none of the more erratic or crazy represented. Leshwi herself had been pressed into the work, and that all together whispered something meaningful: Someone very high up in the singer hierarchy was interested in this man. To the point of wanting to dissect and understand his each and every possession, no matter how ordinary.
Venli moved around the perimeter of the room, careful to stay away from the broad doors or windows leading to the balcony. Those had been draped off, but the rules were strict during daylight hours. No singers were to show themselves outside, lest they accidentally reveal the truth to Windrunner scouts.
She found two humans she didn’t recognize at the doorway into the bedroom, watching what occurred inside. There, Raboniel was speaking to a third human. The tall male was dressed in a coat and trousers that seemed elegant to Venli’s eyes—though she knew little of their fashion. More striking was the strange creature on his shoulder, an odd thing unlike any Venli had ever seen. It stood on two legs like a person, though its face ended in a beak and it had brightly colored scales that looked soft, of all things. When she entered, it turned and stared at her, and she was unnerved by how bright and intelligent its eyes seemed.
The Lady of Wishes sat in a chair by the bed, her face passive, with stacks of papers and books beside her.
Who was this man, and why would Raboniel pause her research to give him an audience? The Lady normally ignored requests from humans, going so far as to have several “important” ones flogged when they demanded audiences. More curious, as Venli edged around the side of the room, she saw that the man’s face was scarred in several places, bespeaking a roughness in contrast to his fine clothing.
“The only thing I find remarkable,” Raboniel said to Derision, “is how audacious you are, human. Do you not understand how easily I could have you beaten or killed?”
“That would be to throw away a useful opportunity,” the man said, loud and bold—a human version of the Rhythm of Determination. “And you are not one who throws away something useful, are you, Ancient One?”
“Use is relative,” Raboniel replied. “I will throw away an opportunity I’ll never have time to exploit if it is preventing me from something better.”
“What is better than free riches?” he said.
“I have Urithiru,” she said. “What need have I of spheres?”
“Not that kind of riches,” the man said, with a smile. He stepped forward and respectfully handed her a large pouch. Raboniel took it, and it made a soft clink. Raboniel undid the top, and stared inside. She sat there for a long moment, and when she next spoke, her voice was devoid of rhythms. “How? Where did you get this?”
“I bring a gift,” was all the man said. “To encourage you to meet with my babsk to negotiate terms. I had thought to wait until the current … turmoil subsided, but my babsk is determined. We will have a deal for use of the Oathgates. And we will pay.”
“It is … a fine gift,” Raboniel finally said.
“That is not the gift,” he said. “That is a mere advance on our future payments. This is the gift.”
He gestured to the side, and the strange creature on his shoulder whistled. The two men that Venli had seen outside entered, carrying something between them—a large cloth-covered box. It barely fit through the door, and was heavy, judging by the thump it made when they set it down.
The lead human whipped the cloth off, revealing a small teenage human girl in a box with bars on the sides. The dirty creature growled as she huddled in the center, shadowed. The man gestured dramatically, then bowed and began to walk away.
“Human?” Raboniel said. “I did not dismiss you. What is this? I need no slaves.”
“This is no slave,” the man said. “But if your master does happen to ever locate Cultivation, suggest that he ask her precisely why she made an Edgedancer who is fueled by Lifelight and not Stormlight.” He bowed again—a formal military bow—then withdrew.
Venli waited, expecting Raboniel to demand he be executed, or at least flogged. Instead she started humming to Conceit. She even smiled.
“I am confused, Ancient One,” Venli said, looking after the man.
“You needn’t be,” Raboniel said, “for this has nothing to do with you. He is dramatic, as I was warned. Hopefully he thinks I was put onto the back foot by his little stunt. Did he really deliver me a Radiant who is awake despite the tower’s protections?” She peered in at the caged child, who stared back defiantly and growled. “Barely seems tame.”
She clapped, and several servants entered. “Take this one to a secure place and do not let her go. Be careful. She might be dangerous.” As they took the cage, she turned to Venli and spoke to Craving. “So, was it really another of your people, as the reports say?”
“Yes,” Venli said. “I know him. His name is Rlain. A listener.”
“A child of traitors,” Raboniel said.
“As am I,” Venli said, then paused. She took a deep breath and changed her rhythm to Conceit. “I would have him released to my care. I haven’t any other kin to speak of. He is precious to me.”
“Odium specifically made your kin extinct,” Raboniel said. “You are the last. A distinction that you should appreciate, for the way it makes you unique.”
“I do not wish uniqueness,” Venli said. “I wish to keep this malen alive and enjoy his company. I have served well in several capacities, to multiple Fused. I demand this compensation.”
Raboniel hummed to Derision. Venli panicked, and nearly lost her will—but Timbre, always watching, pulsed to Conceit. A rhythm of Odium, but the best counterpart to Resolve. The rhythm Venli needed to continue to express now. She did so, humming it, as she didn’t trust herself to speak.
“Very well,” Raboniel said, picking up her papers to begin reading again. “Your Passion does you credit. He is yours. Be certain he doesn’t cause problems, for I will lay them at your charge.”
Venli hummed to Tribute, then quickly retreated. Inside, Timbre pulsed to one of the normal rhythms. She seemed in pain, as if using one of the wrong rhythms had been hard for her. But they’d done it. Like she’d freed the Windrunner’s family.
Timbre pulsed. Freedom. That was to be her next oath, Venli realized. To free those who had been taken unjustly. She almost said a new oath out loud, right there, but Timbre pulsed in warning.
So she returned to her rooms before going to Rlain. She shut the door to her quarters, then whispered the words.
“I will seek freedom for those in bondage,” she said, then waited. Nothing happened. Had it worked?
A distant sensation struck her, a femalen voice, so very far away—but thrumming with the pure rhythm of Roshar.
These words, it said, are not accepted.
Not accepted? Venli sank down into a chair. Timbre pulsed to the Rhythm of Confusion. But in her gemheart, Venli realized she knew the reason. She’d just watched a child trapped in a cage be hauled off by Raboniel’s servants. It seemed obvious, now that she considered.
She couldn’t honestly speak those words. Not when she was c
oncerned with freeing Rlain primarily because she wanted another listener to confide in. Not when she was willing to ignore the need of a child locked in a cage.
If she wanted to honestly progress as a Radiant, she’d need to do as Rlain had said and start thinking about someone other than herself. And it was beyond time for her to begin treating her powers with the respect they deserved.
In other circumstances, I would be fascinated by this sand to the point of abandoning all other rational pursuits. What is it? Where did it come from?
—From Rhythm of War, page 13
Finally, at long last, Navani heard Kaladin’s voice.
I’m sorry, Brightness, he said, his voice transmitted via the Sibling to Navani. I collapsed when I got back last night, and fell asleep. I didn’t intentionally keep you waiting.
Upon arriving at the chamber of scholars in the morning, Navani had discovered—via the Sibling—that she had slept through what had nearly been the end of their resistance. She had then waited several interminable hours to hear from the Windrunner.
“Don’t apologize,” Navani whispered, standing in her now customary place, her hands behind her, touching the line of crystal on the wall as she surveyed her working scholars. Guards stood at the door, and the strange insane Fused sat in her place by the far wall, but no one interfered directly with Navani. “You did what you had to—and you did well.”
I failed, Kaladin said.
“No,” Navani said softly, but firmly. “Highmarshal, your job is not to save the tower. Your job is to buy me time enough to reverse what has been done. You didn’t fail. You accomplished something incredible, and because of it we can still fight.”
His reply was long in coming. Thank you, he said, his voice bolstered. I needed to hear those words.
“They are true,” Navani said. “Given enough time, I’m confident I can flush the tower of the enemy’s Light, then instead prime it with the proper kind.”
It came down to the nature of Stormlight, Voidlight, and the way the Sibling worked. Navani needed to take a crash course in Light, and figure out exactly what had gone wrong.
Breaking the node seems to have made things worse, Kaladin said. Healing takes longer now. A Fused hit me with a knife, and it took a good ten minutes before my Stormlight fully healed the wound.
“I doubt that was due to the breaking of the node,” Navani said. “Raboniel was able to corrupt the Sibling further before you stopped her.”
Understood. I do feel bad I couldn’t protect the node, but Brightness, I think doing so would be impossible. If the others get discovered, we’ll have to destroy them too.
“I agree,” she said. “Do what you have to in order to give me more time. Anything else to report?”
Oh, right! Kaladin said. I couldn’t get to the Oathgates in time. I thought I’d be able to easily climb down to the ground floor, but it was a longer process than I imagined.
“You didn’t fly?”
Those Lashings don’t work, Brightness. I need to use Adhesion to make handholds. I’ll need to practice more—or find another way up and down—if you want me to try to reach the Oathgates. Regardless, I did snatch some spanreeds for you. Full sets, it turns out, twelve of them.
Syl has been inspecting them, and she thinks she knows the reason they work. Brightness, the spren inside have been corrupted, like Renarin’s spren. The rubies work on Voidlight now, as you suspected, and these spren must be the reason.
Navani let out a long breath. This had been one of her guesses; she hadn’t wanted it proven. If she needed to acquire corrupted spren, she was unlikely to be able to get any fabrials working without Raboniel knowing.
“Rest,” she told Kaladin, “and keep your strength up. I will figure out a path to reverse what is happening here.”
We need to warn Dalinar, Kaladin said. Maybe we could get half of one of these spanreeds to him.
“I don’t know how we’d accomplish that,” Navani said.
Well, I guess it depends on how far down the tower’s defenses go. It’s possible I could leap off a ledge, fall far enough to get outside the suppression, then activate my Lashings. But that would leave you without access to a Radiant. Honestly, I’m loath to suggest it. I don’t know if I could leave, considering how things are.
“Agreed,” Navani said. “For now, it’s more important that I have you here with me. Keep watch for Lift; the Sibling has lost track of her, but she was awake like you are.”
Understood, he said.
“Are you otherwise well? Do you have food?”
Yeah. I have another of my men helping me. He’s not a Radiant, but he’s a good man.
“The mute?” Navani guessed.
You know Dabbid?
“We’ve met. Give him my best.”
Will do, Brightness. Really though, I don’t think I can rest. I need to practice climbing the outside of the tower—but even with practice, I’m worried I won’t be fast enough. What if a node is discovered on the fortieth floor? It would take me hours to climb that high.
“A valid worry,” she said. “I’ll see if I can find a solution. Let’s talk tomorrow around this time.”
Understood.
She pushed off the wall and strolled through the room. She didn’t want to be seen talking to herself; surely the singers knew to watch for signs that someone was Radiant. She conversed softly with Rushu, explaining her plans for the next phase of time-wasting.
Rushu approved, but Navani felt annoyed as she moved on. I need to do more than waste time, Navani thought. I need to work toward our freedom.
She’d been formulating her plan. Step one was to continue making certain they didn’t lose ground, and Kaladin would have to handle that. Step two was getting word to Dalinar. Now that she had spanreeds, perhaps she could find a way.
It was the third step that currently concerned her. In talking to the Sibling, Navani had confirmed a number of things she’d previously suspected. The tower regulated pressure and heat for those living inside—and it had once done a far better job of this, along with performing a host of other vital functions.
Most of that, including the tower’s protections against Fused, had ended around the Recreance. The time when the Radiants had abandoned their oaths—and the time when the ancient singers had been transformed into parshmen, their songs and forms stolen. The actions of those ancient Radiants had somehow broken the tower—and Raboniel, by filling the tower with Voidlight, was starting to repair it in a twisted way.
Navani felt smothered by it all. She needed to fix a problem using mechanisms she didn’t understand—and indeed had learned about only days ago. She paced, massaging her temples. She needed a smaller problem she could work on first, to give her brain some time away from the bigger problem.
What was a smaller problem she could fix? Helping Kaladin move faster up and down through the tower? Was there a hidden lift that she could …
Wait.
A way for one person to quickly get up and down, she thought. Storms. She turned on her heel and walked to the other side of the room, suppressing—as best she could—visible signs of her excitement.
The junior engineer Tomor had survived the initial assault. Navani had him recalculating the math on certain schematics. She leaned down beside the young ardent and pointed at his current project, but whispered something else.
“That glove you made,” she said. “The one that you wanted to use as a single-person lift. Where is it?”
“Brightness?” he asked, surprised. “In the boxes out in the hallway.”
“I need you to sneak it out,” she whispered, “when you leave today.”
The singers let her lesser scholars move more freely than Navani. What else could they do? Force three dozen people to sleep in this room, without facilities? A few of the key scholars—Navani, Rushu, Falilar—were always escorted, but the subordinates weren’t paid as much attention.
“Brightness?” Tomor said. “What if I get caught?”
&n
bsp; “You might be killed,” she whispered. “But it is a risk we must take. A Radiant still fights, Tomor, and he needs your device to climb between floors.”
Tomor’s eyes lit up. “My device … Stormblessed needs it?”
“You know he’s the one?”
“Everyone’s talking about him,” Tomor said. “I thought it was a fanciful rumor.”
“Bring such rumors to me, fanciful or not,” Navani said. “For now, I need you to sneak that glove out and leave it hidden somewhere it won’t be discovered, but where Kaladin can reasonably retrieve it.”
“I’ll try, Brightness,” Tomor said, nervous. “But fabrials don’t work anymore.”
“Leave that to me,” she said. “Include a quick sketch of a map to the location of the weights on the twentieth floor, as he’ll need to visit those too.”
With the conjoined rubies Kaladin had stolen in those spanreeds, they could hopefully make the device function. She’d have to coach Kaladin through installing it all. And the rubies would be smaller than the ones Tomor had built into the device; would they be able to handle the weight? She’d need to do some calculations, but assuming Tomor had used the newer cages that didn’t stress the rubies as much, it should work.
She rose to go speak to some of the others in the same manner and posture, to hide the importance of her conversation with Tomor. During the second such conference, however, she noticed someone at the doorway.
Raboniel. Navani took a deep breath, composing herself and smothering her spike of anxiety. Raboniel would likely be unhappy about what had happened last night. Hopefully she didn’t suspect Navani’s part in it.
Unfortunately, a guard soon walked into the room, then made straight for Navani. Raboniel didn’t fetch an inferior personally. Navani couldn’t banish the anxietyspren that trailed her as she joined the Fused at the doorway.
Raboniel wore a gown today, though of no cut Navani recognized. Loose and formless, it felt like what an Alethi woman would wear to bed. Though the Fused wore it well with her tall figure, it was strangely off-putting to see her in something that seemed more regal than martial.
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