Rhythm of War (9781429952040)

by Brandon Sanderson

  Venli hummed to Craving.

  “You want more, don’t you?” Raboniel said. “Only one with pure ambition would stand where you do now. Serve well, and you may find the blessings available to the worthy. True knowledge. True life.”

  Venli continued to hum, though her internal rhythm was something far more uncertain. The Rhythm of the Lost. She didn’t know what to make of Raboniel. Many Fused were some variety of unhinged: vengeful, destructive, conceited.

  Listening to this creature’s careful, insightful offers, Venli found herself afraid. This creature was far more dangerous than any she’d encountered before.

  Raboniel left, striding forward alongside the silent drifting figures of the Deepest Ones. Venli continued walking, and was surprised when Rothan worked his way up beside her. He was head of Lady Leshwi’s soldiers—not part of Venli’s staff, but analogous to her in authority. He, like most of Leshwi’s soldiers, had been given to Raboniel for this incursion.

  The soldiers of the Pursuer had also joined them—and they were a group Venli knew by their fearsome reputation. They’d been harsh to the humans of Kholinar, but were among the strongest and proudest singer troops, with distinctive uniforms always worn with pride. Now those intermingled with Leshwi’s carefully trained and calmer troops, forming a powerful strike force with both strength and discipline.

  Venli hadn’t interacted much with Rothan or the other soldiers, but she had nothing against him. Other than the fact that other Regals made her worried, as they held Voidspren in their gemhearts. With each step, his powerful figure seemed to crackle with energy. Sparks occasionally flashed across his deep red eyes. She remembered that feeling, holding stormform. The form she’d used when she’d led her people to their doom.

  “You should not bother the Fused, Venli,” Rothan said to Derision, looking toward Raboniel. “Most are not as lenient as Leshwi. Take care. I would not see you fall. You are useful to us.”

  “I … hadn’t noticed that you cared,” she said.

  “Leshwi values you,” he said. “Therefore, so do the rest of us.” He left her with that simple warning as he retreated. Rothan didn’t often want answers or even engagement. He simply stood tall, spoke his mind, then expected to be understood.

  He would be a good one to have on my side, Venli thought. But no, too dangerous. Far too dangerous. She couldn’t afford to think about recruitment right now. She had to focus on staying alive. For, as grueling as this hike through the mountains had been, she knew a more dangerous part was coming.

  Within the week, they would arrive at Urithiru. And then the real test would come.

  Unfortunately, as proven by my own situation, the combination of Shards is not always a path to greater power.

  Adolin joined Zu atop the obsidian outcropping. The golden-haired Stoneward still wore her traditional clothing, a wrap around the chest and loose, flowing trousers. She claimed she’d picked up scouting skills as a guide in the Reshi Isles, but he thought she moved with too much stealth for that.

  “There,” she said, pointing. “They are still following.”

  Adolin raised the spyglass, sighting where she pointed. Indeed, he could make out the Tukari caravan in the distance. Those strange humans had been following them—never more than a few hours’ march behind—since they’d left the port town weeks earlier.

  “Damnation,” Adolin said. “So they didn’t turn at the crossroads after all.” The terrain had grown uneven since this morning, full of crags and outcroppings, and it had been more difficult to spot their tail.

  “Wanna go confront them?” Zu asked, grinning.

  “Two on twenty?”

  “One of those two can shape stone at her will and make clothing into weapons.”

  “I don’t dare waste what Stormlight remains,” Adolin said.

  “It will run out soon anyway,” she said. “Might as well give it a last hurrah! A new experience for the One.”

  From below, Ua’pam called up, “Do not encourage her! She will do this foolish thing!”

  Zu grinned at Adolin, then winked, as if her bravado were partially just to unnerve her spren. Even after weeks traveling with her, Adolin didn’t know what to make of the strange Stoneward. She lightly leaped off the outcropping and slid down the smooth obsidian, graceful as an Edgedancer. Below, she slapped Ua’pam on the shoulder and the two of them wandered toward camp.

  He was tempted to do as Zu said, if only because their Stormlight was running out. They’d been in Shadesmar almost thirty days at this point, long enough that their spheres had all run out weeks ago. Though they’d spent much of their Stormlight at the caravan stop, they’d retained a few larger gemstones lent them by the Thaylens, capable of holding Light longer even than others the same size. Those were starting to dim, unfortunately. And once gems started to dim, they went dun quickly.

  Adolin took another long look at the Tukari, then shook his head. They didn’t seem like they were trying to catch up to Adolin’s group; they didn’t push fast or move during the nights. The latter would have been easy, as “night” in Shadesmar wasn’t a strict time set by the movement of the sun. Those humans could easily have done a double march and overtaken his team.

  He’d already sent a runner to ask Notum about them; his smaller patrol was marching a little ahead of Adolin’s group. The honorspren had said that it wasn’t illegal for those Tukari to use the road, but to report to him if they did anything expressly threatening.

  Adolin tucked away the spyglass and returned to meet with the others, who were preparing to break camp. He’d learned from his father that a commander was best seen doing things, so he inspected the work, set the forward and rear guard for the day, and checked on Maya—who had been traveling on Gallant’s back.

  The large midnight stallion had taken to her—he wouldn’t let just anyone ride him—and seemed to recognize that she was injured somehow. Gallant stepped extra carefully, moving gently so Maya wouldn’t be knocked from her seat. And Adolin was not simply imagining it, no matter what the others thought.

  He got everyone moving, then sought out Shallan.

  * * *

  The last few weeks, Shallan had been of two minds—well, three, technically—on how to use the information that Beryl was a spy. As the caravan started out for the day, she stuck close to Beryl, ostensibly to help her with Lightweaving.

  “I still need to find my focus, Brightness,” Beryl said, keeping pace easily with her long Alethi legs. It was almost criminal how luxurious her dark hair was, despite there being little water for bathing. “I have tried drawing as you suggest, but I’m not any good at it.”

  “You used Lightweaving with men in the warcamps,” Shallan said. “And I’ve seen you use it in sparring.”

  “Yes, but I can’t change anything but my own appearance!” she said. “I know I can do more. I’ve seen the rest of you.”

  “It’s limited for most of us at the start,” Shallan said, nodding toward Vathah, who was walking alongside the Cryptics. “The first time I caught him Lightweaving, he didn’t believe he’d actually done it. It seems to surprise him each time he makes it happen.”

  “I’ve tried his way,” Beryl said with a grimace. “He acts like the person or thing he’s trying to be, and then his Lightweaving takes over. If he wants to make an illusion of a large rock, he says he thinks like a rock. How does that even work?” She gave Shallan a weak smile. “I don’t mean to complain, Brightness. I’m sure I merely have to keep trying. It will come to me as it did the others, right?”

  “It will, I promise,” Shallan said. “I was frustrated like you at the start, unable to control it. But you can do this.”

  Beryl nodded eagerly.

  Inside, Veil was marveling. She’s an extremely good actor. I couldn’t spot any sign of a tell. I swear, either she hides her true emotions marvelously, or we have the wrong woman.

  Veil’s surety of that had been growing and building during the trip. Shallan didn’t want to accept it,
but it was hard to continue pretending at this point.

  Perhaps we should speak with Ornament again, Radiant thought. I feel if we chat with her enough, she will let something slip.

  They’d been trying that too, but … Veil thought they were hitting a dead end there. If Beryl’s spren knew about her treason, then the Cryptic wasn’t letting on.

  It twisted Shallan about to consider this all might be for nothing. She wanted the spy to be Beryl. And they had a pretty damning confirmation, didn’t they?

  Well, Veil thought, let’s assume the worst. That the real spy is extremely careful and skilled. Is it too much of a stretch to wonder if they discovered, by speaking to the others, that we’d seeded a bit of misinformation? Mraize is clever. He could have purposely fed us a line to put suspicion on Beryl.

  What was the point of the inquiry, then? Shallan thought, frustrated. Why go to all that trouble if we were just going to doubt the results?

  Because I doubt everything, Veil said. It’s information, but not conclusive.

  I agree, Radiant thought. We have had time to investigate Beryl, and have uncovered nothing. To proceed further, we must find proof. Hard proof. We cannot erroneously condemn someone who might be innocent.

  Storms, Veil thought. You sound like a law officer, Radiant.

  I’m agreeing with you!

  Yeah, but you hurt my cause when you’re so stiff. Couldn’t you relax now and then?

  Shallan put her hands to her head, feeling … unsettled. She could remember a time not so long ago when her personas hadn’t held arguments inside her head. They’d mostly remained isolated; she would shift without noticing. Was it healthier now that they worked together, even if they argued? Or was it more dangerous, since the conflict was so difficult? Either way, she was growing exhausted of the struggle today.

  So, reluctantly, Veil took over. And for now she stuck close to Beryl, trying to catch her in a lie. Unfortunately, a short time later, Adolin came tromping up. Like an axehound looking for something to chase. However, even Veil had to admit that with his floppy hair and his can-do attitude, Adolin had a way of making you feel better.

  “Hey,” he said to Veil. “You have a moment?”

  “I suppose,” Veil said. “I’m Veil right now, by the way.”

  “Well, maybe you will have a useful perspective on this,” he said, walking her off from the others to speak in private. “The more I think about it, the more I worry we should change how we approach the honorspren. Notum was convinced the honorspren wouldn’t talk to us. Worse than Syl.”

  “Change our approach? How? You mean not give them the letters and gifts?”

  “I don’t think they’ll take either. I worry we’ll then be turned away immediately.”

  “That would be aggravating,” Veil admitted. She hadn’t forgotten her real duty—that of getting into the fortress and locating Restares, leader of the Sons of Honor. Even Radiant was eager to find this man, to discover what secrets he held that Mraize wanted so badly. Finding the spy was important, but this mission superseded it.

  “What if there’s a better way than delivering Father’s and Jasnah’s letters?” Adolin said. “What if we offered to give the honorspren as much Stormlight as they could take, delivered by my father, if they’d only send a representative back with us? What if we asked to exchange emissaries, and promised to build their representative a fantastic palace in Shadesmar near the Oathgate? We can bring tons of rock in from our side that is extremely valuable here.”

  “Hmmm,” Veil said. “Adolin, they’re like an entire race of spren who act like Radiant does—and they see us as criminals. If we worry they won’t even accept some letters and books, wouldn’t it be dangerous to offer extremely valuable gifts? They might see those as bribes, or as admissions of our guilt.”

  “Maybe,” he said, then punched one fist into the palm of his other hand a few times.

  “I agree with Veil, Brightlord,” Radiant said. “I would be highly suspicious of valuable gifts, if I were them. It is not a payoff they want, but isolation.”

  “All right then,” Adolin said. “An entirely different idea. We beg. Abjectly. We bow down and say that without them we’re doomed. If the spren are anything like Windrunners, then maybe they won’t be able to say no.”

  Radiant considered. “Perhaps. I would find that more appealing than bribes, I suppose.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Veil said. “But I guess I’m the wrong person to ask. Because at seeing you beg, I’d figure that I was correct to stay out of the conflict—because it’s unwinnable.”

  “Damnation,” Adolin said. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “Let me consider,” Radiant said. “I am Radiant again, by the way.”

  Adolin nodded.

  “This is a difficult challenge, Adolin,” Radiant finally said. “And I agree with your worries. We have exactly one chance to present ourselves properly to the honorspren. They are a hostile group—indeed, one that has self-selected toward hostility. We can surmise that the spren most willing to listen to our arguments have already joined the Knights Radiant.

  “Your ploy of acting weak and begging for help is a promising idea. I wonder, however, if appealing to the honorspren’s rational side would be a better plan.”

  “The way the honorspren insist on turning away from all of humankind is emotional though, right?” Adolin said. “They were hurt in the past. They are afraid of that pain.”

  “One might call that rational. If your entire species had essentially been wiped out by fraternization with humans, would you not—logically—be wary of reengaging in that same fraternization?”

  “But how’s it going to go for them if Odium wins?” Adolin asked. “He hates Honor. Well, I guess he hates everything. It’s kind of in the name.… Anyway, will they spend the rest of their existences inside their little bunker? Will they eventually bow before him? Decide to fight only once everyone else is dead or subjugated?”

  Radiant smiled. “I can feel your determination, Brightlord. That passion is admirable. The things you said to me could be good arguments to make to the honorspren.”

  “Those are the ones my father makes in his letter,” Adolin said. “That’s basically what Syl said before abandoning them and going to find Kaladin. I can’t help thinking that the arguments Father and Jasnah have made are the ones the honorspren will be prepared for, bracing themselves.…”

  He got a far-off look, then glanced behind him. Radiant frowned, trying to figure out what he was searching for. The line of people? His Ryshadium, clopping along with the deadeye on its back? The glittering obsidian hills overgrown with crystalline plants?

  “You have had a thought?” Radiant asked.

  “Kind of,” Adolin said. “I … realized that they’ll be ready for anything we can bring. I mean, these creatures have been alive for thousands of years—and have spent all of that time angry at us. I can’t possibly think of an argument they haven’t already considered. I doubt Father, or even Jasnah, could do so.”

  “A reasonable assumption,” Radiant said, nodding as they walked. “However, if they are anticipating all arguments, then perhaps the sole hope we have is the skill of the one arguing. Brightness Jasnah can be quite persuasive. I suggest, upon reflection, that we continue with the tactic of offering the letters.”

  “Either that or we could surprise the honorspren.”

  “How?” Radiant said. “You pointed out they’ve had thousands of years to consider these arguments.”

  Adolin shook his head, his expression still distant. “Look,” he eventually said, “could I speak to Shallan?”

  “Shallan is exhausted at the moment,” Radiant said. “She asks that I handle this conversation. Why do you ask?”

  “I just feel more comfortable with her, Radiant.” He glanced at Radiant. “Is … something wrong with Shallan? I thought everything was going better during the boat ride, but these last few weeks … I don’t know, she feels different. Off.”
r />   He noticed! Shallan thought in a panic.

  He noticed, Veil thought with relief.

  “She has been retreating more and more these days,” Radiant said. “She claims to be tired. But … there is something going on with us. I can try to make her emerge.”

  “Please.”

  She tried. She sincerely did. In the end though, she grimaced. “I’m sorry. Shallan is tired. Maybe scared. Veil can explain, perhaps.”

  “So … can I talk to her?”

  “You already are,” Veil said, sighing. “Adolin, look. This is really complicated. It’s wrapped up in Shallan’s past, and the pain she felt as a child. Pain that I was created specifically to help her overcome.”

  “I can help. I can understand.”

  “I barely understand, Adolin,” Veil said. “And I’m living in her head.” She took a deep breath, forcing herself to see him as Shallan did. She loved Adolin. She’d chosen Adolin. The least Veil could do was try to explain.

  “All right,” she said. “Pretend you’re her, and you experienced some things that were so traumatic that you don’t want to believe they happened to you. So you pretend they happened to someone else. Someone different.”

  “That’s you?” Adolin said.

  “Not exactly,” Veil said. “This is hard to put into words. Radiant and I are coping mechanisms that, for the most part, work. But something deeper has started to manifest.

  “Shallan is worried that the person you see in her is a lie. That the person you love is a lie. And it’s not only you. Pattern, Dalinar, Jasnah, Navani—she worries that they all don’t know the real her.

  “Because of things that happened to her—and more, some of the things she was forced to do—she’s beginning to think that ‘Shallan’ is the fake one, the false identity. That there is a monster deep inside that is her real self. She fears it’s inevitable that the truth will come out, and everyone will leave her when it does.”

  Adolin nodded, his brow knit. “She couldn’t have told me that, could she?”