They reached the atrium, the hallway they’d been following merging with it like a river flowing into a sea. Here, Heavenly Ones soared up and down, delivering supplies to the scouts and Masked Ones on the upper floors. Those continued to keep watch for Windrunners. The charade was wearing thin at this point; Raboniel was certain Dalinar Kholin had seen through it and knew something very wrong was happening at the tower.
The supplies to the upper floors could have been delivered via the lifts. However, Raboniel had put the Heavenly Ones to work, making it very clear that she had both the authority and the inclination to keep them busy.
This had driven off many of them, who preferred their sanctuaries in Kholinar. Perhaps that had been the point. Leshwi instead did as she was asked. She floated up and over the railing, her long train slipping over and then falling to drift in the open air beneath her. Another Heavenly One soared upward past them, trailing cloth of gold and red.
“Ancient One,” Venli said to Craving, stepping up to the railing. “What are we watching Raboniel for, if not to understand how she’s trying to gain advantage over us? What is the purpose of my spying?”
“We watch,” Leshwi said, floating down to eye level with Venli, “because we are frightened. To Raboniel, the games of men and singers are petty things—but so are their lives. We watch her, Venli, because we want a world to remain when she is finished with her plots.”
Venli felt a chill, attuning the Terrors. As Leshwi flew off, Venli took a lift, haunted by those words. The games of men and singers are petty things … but so are their lives.…
The ominous words pulled Venli down from her earlier optimism. After stepping off the lift, she decided to stop and check on Rlain and the others. She couldn’t help attuning Agony at the idea of those Regals in the infirmary. At least the surgeon and his wife had the good sense to mostly stay out of sight.
Venli slipped into the draped-off section of the room, where Hesina was keeping watch today. She nodded as Venli entered, then grimaced and glanced toward the others inside. There was a new human here, one Venli didn’t recognize, who stood with his eyes down, not speaking.
A tension in the room was coming entirely from Lirin and Rlain, who faced off at the rear, Rlain humming softly to Betrayal. What on Roshar?
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Rlain said. “I can’t believe it. He’s your son.”
“My son is long dead, bridgeman,” Lirin said, quickly packing a small bag full of surgical implements. “Kaladin kept trying to explain this, and I only recently started understanding. He doesn’t want to be my son anymore. If that’s the case, it’s difficult for me to see him as anything other than a killer and an agitator. Someone who recklessly endangered not just my family, but the lives of every human in the tower, while pursuing a vengeful grudge.”
“So you’re going to leave him to die?” Rlain demanded.
“I didn’t say that,” Lirin snapped. “Do not put words in my mouth. I’ll go as I would for anyone wounded.”
“And afterward?” he demanded. “You said—”
“I said we’d see,” Lirin said. “It’s possible I’ll need to bring him down here to give him long-term care.”
“You would give him up for execution!”
“If that’s what is required, then so be it. I’ll do my job as a surgeon, then let Kaladin deal with the consequences of his actions. I’m finished being a pawn in games of death. For either side.”
Rlain threw up his hands. “What is the point of trying to save him if you’re intending to have him killed!”
“Quiet!” Venli hissed, glancing out the flimsy drapes toward the others in the room outside. “What is going on here?”
Lirin glared at Rlain, who again hummed to Betrayal.
“Our son survived the events of the other day,” Hesina said to Venli. “This is one of his friends. He says Kaladin’s powers aren’t working properly, and his wounds aren’t healing. He’s in a coma and is slowly dying of what sounds like internal bleeding.”
“That or an infection,” Lirin said, stuffing a few more things into his bag. “Can’t tell from the description.”
“We’re not taking you to him,” Rlain said, “unless you promise not to give him and Teft up to the enemy.” He looked to the other man in the room, the newcomer, who nodded in agreement.
“Then he’ll die for certain,” Lirin snapped. “Blood on your hands.”
The two glared at each other, and Venli attuned Irritation. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about.
“I’ll go,” Hesina said, walking over and taking the surgery bag off the table.
“Hesina—”
“He’s my son too,” she said. “Let’s be on with this, Rlain. I can show you how to treat the fever and give him some anti-inflammatories, along with something to fight the infection.”
“And if it is internal bleeding?” Lirin asked. “He will need surgery. You can’t perform an operation like that in the field, Hesina.”
He sounded angry, but those were fearspren at his feet. Not angerspren. The surgeon turned away and pretended to arrange his instruments. But humans were so full of emotion, it spilled out of them. He couldn’t hide what he was feeling from Venli. Frustration. Worry.
He could say what he wanted. But he loved his son.
“He needs to be brought here,” Lirin said, his voice laden with pain as plain as any rhythm. “I will go with you to help him. Then … I want you to listen to my suggestion. If he’s in a coma, he will need long-term care. We can put him in this room and pretend he’s unconscious like the others. It’s the best way.”
“He’d rather die,” the newcomer whispered. There was something odd about his voice that Venli couldn’t place. He slurred his words.
The chamber fell silent. Save for one thing.
Timbre vibrated with excitement inside Venli. The little spren was at it so loudly, Venli was certain the others would hear. How could they not?
“It was going to catch up to Kal eventually,” Lirin said, his tone morose. “Most soldiers don’t die on the battlefield, you know. Far more die from wounds days later. My son taught you about triage, didn’t he? What did he say about people with wounds like his?”
The two former bridgemen glanced at each other.
“Make them comfortable,” the human with the slurred words said. “Give them drink. Pain medication, if you can spare it. So they are peaceful when they … when they die.”
Again the room grew quiet. All save for Timbre, practically bursting with sound.
It’s time. It’s time. It’s time!
When Venli spoke, she almost believed it was Timbre saying the words and not her.
“What if,” she said, “I knew about an Edgedancer whose powers still seem to work? One who I think we can rescue?”
* * *
It didn’t take much time to explain the plan. Venli had been thinking about this for days now; she’d only needed some practice with her powers, and a little help from Rlain.
The Edgedancer was kept in the same cell Rlain had occupied not long ago. Venli could get through that wall with ease; she was in control of her powers enough for that. The real trick would be pulling off the rescue without revealing or implicating herself.
Timbre pulsed in annoyance as Venli and Rlain hurried toward the cell. The human, Dabbid, was taking another route. Venli didn’t want to be seen walking with him.
“How did you get a Shardblade?” Rlain asked softly, to Curiosity. “And how do they not know you have one?”
“It’s a long story,” Venli said. Mostly because she hadn’t thought of a proper lie yet.
“It’s Eshonai’s, isn’t it? Do you know what happened to her? I know you said she’s dead … but how?”
She died controlled by a Voidspren, Venli thought, because I tricked her into inviting one into her gemheart. She fell into a chasm after fighting a human Shardbearer, then drowned. Alone. I found her corpse, and—under the direction of a
Voidspren—desecrated it by stealing her Shards. But I don’t have them.
There was a lot she could say. “No. I got it from a dead human. I bonded it while traveling to Kholinar, before the Fused found me and the others.”
“That was when they … they…” Rlain attuned the Rhythm of the Lost.
“Yes,” Venli said to the same rhythm. “When they took the rest of our friends. They left me because Odium wanted me to travel around, telling lies about our people to ‘inspire’ the newly awakened singers.”
“I’m sorry,” Rlain said. “That must have been difficult for you, Venli.”
“I survived,” Venli said. “But if we’re going to save this Radiant, we need to be certain the Fused can’t trace this break-in to us. You can’t intervene, Rlain. The human has to manage the distraction himself.”
Rlain hummed to Consideration.
“What?” Venli asked.
“Dabbid isn’t the person I’d put in charge of something like this,” he said. “Until today, I thought he was completely mute.”
“Is he trustworthy?”
“Absolutely,” Rlain said. “He’s Bridge Four. But … well, I’d like to know why he spent so long without talking. The bridge runs hit him hard, I know, but there’s something else.” He hummed to Determination. “I won’t intervene unless something goes wrong.”
“If you do, we all have to go into hiding,” Venli said to Skepticism. “So make sure before you do anything.”
He nodded, still humming to Determination, and they split up at the next intersection. Venli found her way to a particular quiet section of hallway, lit only by her held sphere. Most humans stayed away from this area; the Pursuer’s troops were housed nearby. Raboniel’s occasional orders for peace to be maintained in the tower were barely enough to restrain those soldiers.
She attuned Peace—sometimes used by listeners for measuring time. Beyond this wall was the cell. As the fourth movement of the rhythm approached, Venli pressed her hand against the stone and drew in Voidlight, requisitioned just earlier to replace what she’d used. Storms, she hoped news of her taking so much didn’t reach Raboniel.
Timbre pulsed reassuringly. This stone, like the one earlier today, responded to Venli’s touch. It shivered and rippled, as if it were getting a good back-scratching.
The stone whispered to her. Move to the side. It guided her to the correct spot to breach the cell. Timbre’s rhythms pulsed through the rock, making it vibrate with the Rhythm of Hope. The fourth movement of Peace arrived—the moment when Rlain would signal Dabbid to go in to the guards, bringing food for their lunch. Merely another servant doing his job. Nothing unusual, even if lunch came early today.
Timbre exulted in the Rhythm of Hope as Venli pushed her hand into the stone. It felt good, warm and enveloping. Unlike what happened with the Deepest Ones, Venli displaced the rock. It became as crem in her fingers, soft to the touch.
She wasn’t expert enough to get it to move on its own into the shapes she wanted. It usually did what it wanted in those cases, such as forming the tiny statues on the floor above. So for now, she simply pushed her hand forward until it hit air on the other side. Then she pressed with her other hand and pulled the two apart, forming an opening straight through the stone—the normally hard rock curling and bunching up before her touch.
A surprised set of human eyes appeared at the other end of the foot-long hole, looking through at her.
“I’m going to get you out,” Venli whispered to the Rhythm of Pleading, “but you have to promise you won’t tell anyone what I’ve done. You won’t tell them about the powers I’m using. Not even other Radiants. They think I’m cutting you out with a Shardblade.”
“What are you?” the human whispered in Alethi.
“Promise me.”
“Fine, promised. Done. Hurry. The guards are eating, and they didn’t even share none of it.”
Venli continued shoving aside the stone. It took a ton of Light, and Timbre pulsed to Consolation—apparently she thought Venli’s efforts crude, lacking finesse and skill.
Well, it did the job. She managed to form a hole big enough for the human girl. When Venli let go of the stone, it hardened instantly—she had to shake a few chips of it free of her fingers. The girl poked it, then hopped through.
Hopefully the guards would assume a human Stoneward had survived and saved the girl. Venli gestured for the Edgedancer to follow her—but the girl wavered. She seemed as if she was going to bolt away in another direction.
“Please,” Venli said. “We need you. To save a life. If you run now, he’ll die.”
“Who?”
“Stormblessed,” Venli said. “Please, hurry with me.”
“You’re one of them,” the girl said. “How’d you get Radiant powers?”
“I … am not Radiant,” Venli said. “I have powers from the Fused that are like Radiant powers. I’m a friend of Rlain. The listener who was a bridgeman? Please. I wouldn’t free you only to put you in danger, but we need to go, now!”
The girl cocked her head, then nodded for Venli to go first. The Edgedancer followed on silent feet, sticking to the shadows.
Eshonai used to walk like that, Venli thought. Quietly in the wilderness, to not disturb the wildlife. This girl didn’t have that same air about her though.
Timbre was pulsing contentedly to Hope. Venli couldn’t feel the same yet, not until she was certain Rlain and Dabbid hadn’t been caught. She led the little Radiant girl to a room nearby to wait.
“You’re a traitor to them, then?” the girl asked her.
“I don’t know what I am,” Venli said. “Other than someone who didn’t want to see a child kept in a cage.”
Venli jumped almost to the ceiling when Rlain finally strode in with Dabbid. The quiet bridgeman ran over and hugged the human girl, who grinned.
“Eh, moolie,” she said. “Strange friends ya got these days. You seen a chicken around here? Big red one? I lost ’im when I was running away.”
Dabbid shook his head, then knelt before the girl. “Healing. It works?”
“Eh!” she said. “You can talk!”
He nodded.
“Say ‘buttress,’” she told him. “It’s my favorite word.”
“Healing?” he asked.
“Yeah, I can still heal,” she said. “I think. I should be able to help him.”
He took her hand, insistent.
“I’ll go with you,” Rlain said. He glanced at Venli and she hummed to Skepticism, indicating she wouldn’t go. She had to attend Raboniel.
“I won’t stay away too long,” Rlain promised her. “I don’t want to draw suspicion.” The other two left, but he lingered, then hummed to Appreciation. “I’m sorry about what I said when you first saw me in the cell. You’re not selfish, Venli.”
“I am,” she said. “A lot of things are confusing to me these days—but of that fact I’m certain.”
“No,” he said. “Today you’re a hero. I know you’ve been through rough times, but today…” He grinned and hummed to Appreciation again, then ducked out after the others.
If only he knew the whole story. Still, she felt upbeat as she headed toward the scholar rooms below.
“Can I say the words now?” she asked Timbre.
The pulse indicated the negative. Not yet.
“When?” Venli asked.
A simple, straightforward pulse was her answer.
You’ll know.
Midius once told me … told me we could use Investiture … to enhance our minds, our memories, so we wouldn’t forget so much.
Raboniel made good on her promise to leave Navani to her own designs. The Fused studied the shield that protected the Sibling—but without Navani to accidentally act as a spy, Raboniel’s progress wasn’t nearly as rapid as before. Occasionally—when pacing so she could glance out past the guard—Navani would catch Raboniel sitting on the floor beside the blue shield, holding up the sphere full of Warlight and staring at it.
> Navani found herself in a curious situation. Forbidden to take part in the administration of the tower, forbidden direct contact with her scholars, she had only her research to occupy her. In a way, she had been given the gift she’d always wished for: a chance to truly see if she could become a scholar.
Something had always prevented her from full dedication. After Gavilar’s death, she’d been too busy guiding Elhokar and then Aesudan. Perhaps Navani could have focused on scholarship when she’d first come to the Shattered Plains—but there had been a Blackthorn to seduce and then a new kingdom to forge. For all she complained about politics and the distractions of administering a kingdom, she certainly did find her way into the middle of both with frightful regularity.
Perhaps Navani should go do menial labor. At least that way she’d be among the people. And wouldn’t risk doing any more damage. Except … Raboniel would certainly never let her go around unsupervised. Plus, the lure of unknown secrets called to Navani. She had information Raboniel did not. Navani had seen a sphere that warped air, filled with what seemed to be some kind of anti-Voidlight. She knew about the explosion.
The thing Raboniel wanted to create was possible. So … why not try to find out how to make it? Why not see what she could actually do? The power to destroy a god. Negative Light. Can I crack the secret?
What if Navani was thinking too small in trying to save the tower? What if there was a way to end the war once and for all? What if Navani really could find a way to destroy Odium?
She needed to try. But how to even start? Well … the best way to encourage discoveries from her scholars was usually to cultivate the proper environment and attitude. Keep them studying, keep them experimenting. Oftentimes the greatest discoveries came not because a woman was looking for them, but because she was so engrossed in some other topic that she started making connections she never would have otherwise.
So, over the next few days, Navani tried to replicate this state in herself. She ordered parts, supplies, fabrial mechanisms—some all the way from Kholinar—and they were delivered without a word of complaint. That included, most importantly, many gemstones bearing corrupted spren to power fabrials.
Rhythm of War (9781429952040) Page 115