Rhythm of War (9781429952040)

by Brandon Sanderson

  Shallan found her mind spiraling around her past. The things she had done. The things she was still hiding from, wearing this face that she pretended was her own. That she pretended she deserved. Shallan could be happy, but that happiness was built on lies.

  Would it not be better to accept what she really was? Become the person she deserved to be? Formless—who had been hiding deep inside these last few days—stirred. She’d thought him forgotten, but he had been waiting. Watching …

  “Help,” Shallan whispered.

  “Brightness?” Beryl asked.

  Radiant stood up straight, no longer lounging. “You are to be commended for your diligence, Beryl. You say that this method of Soulcasting has helped Vathah. Have you shown it to any of the others yet?”

  “No, not yet. I—”

  “I would like you to approach Ishnah and train her in it. Report to me the results of the experiment.”

  “I will!” Beryl said. “Um, you seem different. Did you … become one of the others?”

  “I have merely realized I have a great deal yet to do today,” Radiant said. That caused Pattern to hum. “Continue your efforts.”

  She moved to leave, then pretended to reconsider and stepped back, speaking softly. “We need to be careful. I saw a gloryspren earlier that appeared odd. I think that Sja-anat, the corrupter of spren, is watching us. Report to me if you see any odd gloryspren, but stay very quiet about this to the others. I do not wish to inspire a panic.”

  Beryl nodded.

  That’s a little straightforward and blunt, Radiant, Veil said. The goal is to not act suspicious.

  I do as I can, Radiant thought. And I am not suited to subterfuge.

  Liar, Veil said. Shallan? Kid, you all right?

  But Shallan had pulled into a knot within Radiant.

  It was the conversation that set her off … Veil said. Something about it. About leaving your old life, and finding a new one?

  Shallan whimpered.

  I see … Veil said, retreating as well.

  Great. She’d lost both of them. Well, Radiant’s job was to see that things got done. She walked after Vathah; Pattern stayed behind with Beryl, watching her work.

  Vathah was carrying a large pole that was at least thirty feet long. What was he up to? Regardless, in Radiant’s estimation, Vathah was suspicious in an entirely different way from the other two. Vathah had always been the most dark of the former deserters. And she understood why. Following something, believing in something, then abandoning it? Leaving your companions-in-arms? It was a horrifying thought.

  She usually let the others deal with him. A lot of the other deserters she’d come to understand. Gaz had run from gambling debts, and Isom from a cruel captain in Sadeas’s army who constantly beat him.

  But Vathah … his true past was still a mystery. He was cruel and possibly corrupt; he had returned with Shallan only because the circumstances had been right. Shallan liked to think she’d changed the deserters—shown them the nobler side of their personalities.

  While she might be correct about the others, Radiant wasn’t certain about Vathah. If he had deserted once, he was capable of it again. And storms, he didn’t look at all like he belonged with the rest of the Court. Even cleaned up and wearing work clothing, Vathah looked rough. Like he’d recently gotten out of bed—after collapsing into it drunk. He was never properly shaved, but also never ended up with a full beard.

  Vathah climbed the few steps up to the prow of the barge, the section where the mandras were harnessed. Radiant marched up after him. A female peakspren sailor instructed Vathah to heft the long pole so that the tip went high in the air and the bottom end slipped through a ring at the front of the barge. Once he’d done so, Vathah began lowering the pole slowly, hand over hand. The butt of the pole passed between the mandra harness lines to hit the beads beneath.

  They’re measuring depth, Radiant thought. He’s doing sailor jobs, like yesterday. Strange.

  “Hold it steady,” the peakspren said to Vathah. “Brace it against the prow of the barge. Yes. Keep going.”

  Vathah continued lowering the pole. The current of the beads below was clearly stronger than a current of water would be, and it pressed the pole backward. The rings on the front of the ship were there to keep the force of the beads from pulling the pole out of his hands.

  “Keep going,” the peakspren said. “Slower though!”

  Vathah grunted, continuing to lower the depth gauge. “They use weighted strings in my world.”

  “Wouldn’t work here.”

  “I just bumped something,” he said. “Yeah, that’s the bottom. Huh. Not as far down as I thought it would be.”

  “We’ve entered the shallows,” the peakspren said, helping him raise the pole. “Skirting to the west of the great trench we call the Radiant Depths.”

  Vathah got the pole up and walked to stow it along the railing. Then the spren tossed him a brush. Vathah nodded and walked toward the water station. The metal device fed on Stormlight to somehow make water.

  “What is this task?” Radiant asked, following after him.

  “Deck needs to be scrubbed,” he said. “They don’t wash them here as often as they do on ships back home—guess they don’t need to, without ocean water spilling up on everything. Planks don’t need tar to keep them waterproof either.”

  “You were a sailor?” Radiant asked, surprised.

  “I’ve done a lot of jobs.” He filled up a bucket, then picked a section of the deck and went to work, kneeling and scrubbing at the wood.

  “I’m impressed,” Radiant said. “I had not thought you would be one to volunteer for work, Vathah.”

  “It needs to be done.”

  “It is good to work the body, but I find myself objecting to that statement. The peakspren seem to have continued for a while without the deck being washed.” She folded her arms, then shrugged and moved to get a brush herself.

  As she returned, Vathah glanced at her with a dark expression. “Did you simply come to taunt me, Radiant? Or is there a point?”

  “I suppose it’s easy to tell me apart from the others, isn’t it?”

  “Veil would never have decided to help,” he said, continuing to brush. “She’d have mocked me for doing extra work. Shallan would be off somewhere drawing or reading. So, here we are.”

  “Indeed,” Radiant said, kneeling and scrubbing alongside him. “You are an observant man, Vathah.”

  “Observant enough to know you want something from me. What is it?”

  “I’m merely curious,” she said. “The Vathah I know would have avoided work and found a place to relax.”

  “Relaxing isn’t relaxing,” he said. “Sit around too much, and you start sitting around even more.” He kept brushing. “Go across the planks, rather than up and down them, so you don’t wear grooves. Yeah, like that. This does need to be done. The sailors used to scrub the wood every month, but they haven’t had as much help lately. Something about Reachers not being around? What are Reachers, anyway?”

  “They’re a specific bronze-skinned kind of spren,” Radiant said. “They were sailors on our previous voyage.”

  “Well, they aren’t around as much to hire these days, I guess,” Vathah said.

  “Did the others say why?”

  “I didn’t ask,” Vathah said.

  “How odd,” Radiant said. Now, how could she get to the topic of a corrupted spren? She considered, and began to regard this as a silly exercise. Why not ask him if he was the spy. If she was firm enough, he’d admit to his wrongdoing.

  She opened her mouth to do just that, but had enough common sense to stop herself. This was … not a good idea, was it? Having her do espionage?

  No, Shallan thought, emerging with a sigh. I guess it isn’t.

  “Hey,” Shallan said to Vathah as they scrubbed. “You know we’re a family, right? The Court, the group of us? You don’t have to always go off alone and punish yourself.”

  “Not punishing
myself,” he growled. “Just wanted to be busy. And away from questions. Everyone asks too many questions when they get bored.”

  “You don’t have to answer them,” she said. “Really, Vathah. You’re one of us, and we accept you. As you are.”

  He glanced at her, then sat back on his knees, dripping brush in hand. Shallan did likewise, noting that she’d scuffed her trousers. Radiant was always too eager to throw herself into labor, never worrying about her clothing.

  “Shallan,” he said.

  She nodded.

  Vathah returned to his work and didn’t speak as he continued to scrub. Unlike Ishnah, he was perfectly willing to let silence hang. It was harder for Shallan, but she did. For a time the only sound was that of bristles on wood.

  “Does it work?” Vathah finally asked. “These three faces you put on? Does it actually help you somehow?”

  “It does,” Shallan said. “It really does. Most of the time, at least.”

  “Can’t decide if I envy you or not,” Vathah replied. “I’d like to be able to pretend. Something broke in me, you know? A long time ago. Used to be a good soldier. Used to care. But then you see what you’ve done—legitimately see it—and realize everything you fought for was a sham. What do polished buttons matter when you’ve got a child’s blood on your boots?” He scrubbed harder at a spot on the deck. “Figure if I learn to Lightweave well enough, maybe I’ll turn into someone else…”

  That stabbed her straight through.

  Strength, Shallan, Radiant thought. Strength before weakness.

  “Wouldn’t that be a blessing?” Vathah continued. “To become someone else? Someone new?”

  “You can do that without Lightweaving,” Shallan said.

  “Can I?” Vathah asked. “Can you?”

  “I…”

  “We’ve got a blessing in this power,” he continued. “Lets us turn into other people.”

  “It’s not a blessing,” Shallan whispered. “It’s survival.”

  “Feels worse in this place,” Vathah said, eyeing the sky. “I always feel like something is watching me.”

  “Yeah,” Shallan said. “The other day, I caught a spren swimming alongside the boat, watching me. One of those fearspren, the long eel-like ones on this side.”

  “What color was it?” Vathah asked. “Was it … hers?”

  “Yeah,” Shallan whispered. “I didn’t tell the others. Didn’t want them worried.”

  “Smart,” Vathah said. “Well, Sja-anat is something else for me to worry about. I’ll have to double-check every storming spren now.”

  “Let me know if you see anything,” Shallan said. “But don’t trouble the others, not yet. Not until we know for certain what she wants.”

  Vathah nodded.

  Nice work, Veil thought at her, emerging from her contemplation. That was smooth, Shallan. We’ll think of ways to push him for secrets he might be hiding later. For now, this was a good day’s work.

  I hate that I’m back to acting like an apprentice, Shallan thought back. You learned all this from Tyn. Why do we need to learn it again?

  We learned it, Veil thought, but we never tried it out. Remember, we … are new to this, despite what we might … might pretend.

  It was hard for Veil to acknowledge that she didn’t actually have years of experience. Hard for her to admit that she was an alter—a part of Shallan’s personality, manifesting as a distinct person. But it was a good reminder. One that Radiant often brought up. They were learning, and they weren’t experts. Not yet.

  Still, Shallan did know a few things about people. Though Veil wanted to move on, Shallan knelt beside Vathah. “Hey,” she said. “Whatever you did, it’s behind you. We accept you, Vathah. The Unseen Court is a family.”

  “A family,” he said with a grunt. “Never had one of those before.”

  “I knew it,” she said softly.

  “What? That I was lonely?”

  “No,” she said solemnly, “that you were the child of a couple of particularly ugly rocks.”

  He glared at her.

  “You know,” she said, “since you have no family. Must be rocks. It makes sense.”

  “Really? We were having a moment.”

  She smiled, putting her hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Vathah. I appreciate your sediment.” She got up to go.

  “Hey,” Vathah said as she walked away.

  She glanced back at him.

  “Thanks for smiling.”

  She nodded before continuing on her way.

  What you said applies to us too, Radiant thought. That what we did in the past doesn’t matter.

  I suppose, Shallan thought.

  You don’t mean that, Veil accused her. You think what you did was worse. You’re always willing to give others more charity than you extend yourself.

  Shallan didn’t respond.

  I’m figuring it out, Shallan, Veil said. Why you keep working with Mraize. Why you won’t tell Adolin. What this is all about. It has to do with what you said earlier. When—

  “Not now,” Shallan said.

  But—

  In response, Shallan retreated and Radiant found herself in control. And no amount of prodding would bring Shallan back.

  That said, the most worrying thing I discovered in this was the wound upon the Spiritual Realm where Ambition, Mercy, and Odium clashed—and Ambition was destroyed. The effects on the planet Threnody have been … disturbing.

  Navani had always found war banners to be curious things. The wind was crisp and cold on Urithiru’s outer platform today, and it made the banners—brilliant Kholin blue, with Dalinar’s glyphpair emblazoned on them—crack with the sound of breaking sticks. They seemed alive up there on their poles, writhing like captive skyeels among the windspren.

  Today, the banners waved above waiting battalions. A thousand men at a time stood for their turn at the Oathgate, where Radiants transferred them to Azir. With a flash—a ring of light rising around the plateau—both men and banners were off, sent hundreds of miles in a heartbeat.

  Navani appreciated the aesthetic nature of banners—the way they marked divisions, battalions, companies. At the same time, there was a strange incongruity to them. It was essential to keep your men organized and engaged on the battlefield. Dalinar said far more battles were lost by improper discipline than by lack of bravery.

  But the banners also acted like enormous arrows, pointing the way to the most important men on the field. Banners were targets. Bold proclamations that here was where you’d find someone to kill. They were symbols of an organized army, helmed by men and women who knew the best way to end you—if only you’d do them the favor of wandering in their direction.

  “You look preoccupied,” Dalinar said as he stepped over, trailed by an honor guard of ten men.

  “I’m thinking about symbols and why we use them,” Navani said. “Trying not to think about you leaving again.”

  He reached down to cup her cheek. Who had known those hands could be so tender? She placed her hand alongside his face. His skin always felt rough. She swore she’d touched his cheek right after he’d shaved, and still found it ragged like sandpaper.

  The honor guard stood tall and tried to ignore Dalinar and Navani. Even this little sign of affection wasn’t particularly Alethi. That was what they told themselves, anyway. The stoic warriors. Not ruined by emotion. That was their banner, never mind that for centuries one of the Unmade had driven their lust for battle to a frenzy. Never mind that they were human like any others. They had emotions; they displayed them. They merely pretended to ignore them. In the same way you might tactfully ignore a man who accidentally went about with his trousers undone.

  “Watch him, Dalinar,” Navani whispered. “He will try something.”

  “I know,” Dalinar said. Taravangian was walking up the slope onto the platform for the next transfer. Through some careful finagling, his honor guard was Alethi—and Dalinar planned to station the man’s armies away from the command
post on another part of the Azish front, with extra soldiers in between to protect his flank from a potential double cross.

  It was an unfortunately obvious move. Taravangian would realize he was being kept hostage, after a fashion, to ensure the loyalty of his troops.

  As an extra protection, a singular secret weapon hid among Dalinar’s servants. Szeth, wearing the face of a common soldier, had been assigned to guard Dalinar. Navani couldn’t spot him, so the disguise—maintained by one of Shallan’s Lightweavers—was working. Though the sheath to his strange sword had required some physical decorations and disguises, as a Lightweaving wouldn’t stick to it. So she thought she could pick him out as the one with the oversized weapon at his waist.

  Another Lightweaver had created an illusion of Szeth in his jail cell. If Taravangian had people reporting on Szeth, they’d indicate he was safely locked up. They wouldn’t know he was instead staying very close to Dalinar. Though she hated the idea, Navani had to admit that Szeth had remained in prison all these months, without a single incident. He seemed obedient to Dalinar without question. And if Szeth could be trusted, there was likely no better guard.

  Almighty send that the cure was not worse than the disease. Beyond that, Navani couldn’t help wondering if even in all this, they were being manipulated by Taravangian. Surely he couldn’t want them to surround him with enemy troops. Surely she misread the clever turn of the old man’s lips, the knowing look in his eyes.

  But now it was time for Dalinar to leave. So, Navani carefully tucked away her anxiety and embraced him. He plainly wasn’t thrilled to get a hug in front of his soldiers, but he didn’t say anything. After that, the two of them went to meet the governess who had brought little Gav, with his trunks of things. The young boy—trying hard not to look too eager—saluted Dalinar.

  “It is a big duty,” Dalinar told him, “going to war for the first time. Are you ready?”

  “I am, sir!” the child said. “I’ll fight well!”

  “You won’t be fighting,” Dalinar said. “And neither will I. We’ll be handling strategy.”

  “I’m good at that!” Gav said. Then he gave Navani a hug.