Rhythm of War (9781429952040)
Page 77
“Haven’t tried,” Kaladin admitted. He stepped to the side and drew the Stormlight out of a different lantern. He felt the energy, the power, in his veins—something he’d been yearning for. He smiled and stepped back, alight with power.
“Try making the glass attract the latch,” Syl said, gesturing. “If you can get the latch to move toward you, it will pop out and unlock.”
He touched the side of the lantern housing. During the last year, he’d practiced his Lashings. Sigzil had monitored, making him do experiments, as usual. They’d found that a Reverse Lashing required a command—or at least a visualization of what you wanted. As he infused the glass, he tried to imagine the Stormlight attracting things.
No, not things. The latch specifically.
The Stormlight resisted. As with the basic gravitational Lashing, he could feel the power, but something blocked it. However, the blockage was weaker here. He concentrated, pushing harder, and—like a floodgate opening—the Light suddenly burst from him. A Reverse Lashing didn’t glow as brightly as it should, considering the Stormlight. It was kind of inverted, in a way. But Kaladin’s actions were followed by a faint click.
The power had attracted the latch, which—pulled by that unseen force—had popped free of its housing. Eager, Kaladin slipped the front of the lantern open, then plucked the gemstone out and slipped it into his pocket.
Syl zipped out. “We need more practice on these, Kaladin. You don’t use them as instinctively as the other two.”
He nodded, thoughtful, and reclaimed the Stormlight he’d pressed into the lantern housing. Then the two of them moved furtively along the corridor, dropping it into darkness with each gemstone stolen.
“Reverse Lashings take effort,” Kaladin told Syl softly. “It makes me wonder though, if I could somehow make basic gravitational Lashings function.” He’d come to rely on those in a fight—the ability to leap into the air, to send his opponent flying off. Even the simple ability to make himself lighter so he flowed more easily through the battle.
He finished off the last of the lanterns, satisfied with the healthy pocketful of Stormlight. A fortune by Hearthstone terms, though he’d started to grow accustomed to having that much on hand. With these gemstones secured in a dark pouch so his pocket wouldn’t glow, the two of them set off on their next task. Supplies.
They kept to the inner part of the floor this time, where they’d be able to see a patrol coming by the light it carried. Kaladin led Syl down some steps, as he had a good idea of where to get food and water.
As he’d hoped, the monastery in the middle of the fourth floor wasn’t a high priority to guard. He found a pair of singers in uniform occupying one watchpost along the way, but was able to sneak down a side corridor and find a completely unguarded door.
Kaladin and Syl entered, then crept through a corridor lined with cells. He still thought of them that way, even though the ardents here insisted they weren’t a prison. Of course, the rooms the ardents themselves stayed in were properly lit, furnished, and downright homey. Kaladin found one of these by the light under the door, checked the glyph painted on the wood, then slipped in.
He startled the ardent inside, the same man he’d met during his earlier visit to this place. Kuno, Kaladin had learned his name was. The ardent had been reading, but scrambled—and failed—to pull his spectacles down onto his eyes as Kaladin crossed the room in a rush and made a shushing gesture.
“Are there other guards?” Kaladin whispered. “I saw two at the front gate.”
“N-no, Brightlord,” Kuno said, spectacles dangling loosely from his fingers. “I … How? How are you here?”
“By the grace of god or luck. I haven’t decided which. I need supplies. Rations, jugs of water. Medical supplies if you have any.”
The man stuttered, then leaned close, ignoring the spectacles in his hand as he squinted at Kaladin. “By the Almighty. It really is you. Stormblessed…”
“Do you have the things I need?”
“Yes, yes,” Kuno said, rising and running his hand across his shaved head, then led the way out of the room.
“You were right,” Syl said from Kaladin’s shoulder as he followed. “They probably secured all the guard posts, clinics, and barracks. But an out-of-the way sanitarium…”
Kuno took them to a little storeroom. Inside, Kaladin was able to find almost everything he needed. A hospital robe and bedpan for Teft. Various other articles of clothing. A sponge and washbasin, even a large syringe for feeding someone unconscious.
Kaladin packed these into a sack along with bandages, fathom bark for pain, and some antiseptic. Some dried rations followed, mostly Soulcast, but they’d do. He tied four wooden jugs of water to a rope he could sling around his neck, then noticed a bucket with some cleaning supplies in it. He picked out four brushes with thick bristles and sturdy wooden handles, used for scrubbing floors.
“Need to … wash some floors, Radiant?” the ardent said.
“No, but I can’t fly anymore, so I need these,” Kaladin said, stuffing them in his bag. “You don’t have any broth, do you?”
“Not handy,” Kuno said.
“Pity. What about a weapon?”
“A weapon? Why would you need one? You have your Blade.”
“Doesn’t work right now,” Kaladin said.
“Well, we don’t keep weapons here, Brightlord,” Kuno said, wiping his face, which was dripping with sweat. “Storms. You mean … you’re going to fight them?”
“Resist them, at least.” Kaladin put the rope with the jugs around his neck, then stood with some effort and settled the weight so the cord didn’t bite too harshly. “Don’t tell anyone about me. I don’t want you getting taken in for questioning. I will need more supplies.”
“You … you’re going to return? Do this … regularly?” The man pulled his spectacles off and wiped his face again.
Kaladin reached out and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “If we lose the tower, we lose the war. I’m not in any shape to fight. I’m going to do it anyway. I don’t need you to lift a spear, but if you could get me some broth and refill my water jugs every couple of days…”
The man nodded. “All right. I can … I can do that.”
“Good man,” Kaladin said. “As I said, keep this quiet. I don’t want the general public getting it into their heads that they should pick up a spear and start fighting against Fused. If there’s a way out of this mess, it will involve me either getting word to Dalinar or somehow waking the other Radiants.”
He drew in a little Stormlight. He would need it to help him carry all this, and seeing the glow gave the ardent an obvious boost of confidence.
“Life before death,” Kaladin said to him.
“Life before death, Radiant,” Kuno said.
Kaladin picked up his sacks and started out into the darkness. It was slow going, but he eventually arrived on the eleventh floor. Here he oriented himself while Syl poked around to see if she could remember the way. They needn’t have worried—a small spark of light appeared in a vein of garnet on the floor.
They followed the light to the room where they had left Teft. The door opened easily, without needing more Stormlight. Inside, Kaladin set down his supplies, checked on his friend, then started a better inventory of what he’d grabbed. The garnet light sparkled on the floor beside him, and he brushed the crystal vein with his fingers.
A voice immediately popped into his head.
Highmarshal? Is it true? Are you awake and functioning?
Kaladin started. It was the queen’s voice.
* * *
Brightness Navani? Kaladin’s voice said in Navani’s head. I am awake. Basically functioning. My powers are … acting strange. I don’t know why I’m not comatose like the others.
Navani drew in a long, deep breath. The Sibling had watched him sneak to the fourth floor, then raid a monastery for supplies. While he’d been returning, Navani had done several circuits of her room—talking to her scholars and giving them encou
ragement—to not draw suspicion. Now she was back in position, resting against the wall, trying to look bored.
She was anything but. She had access to a Knight Radiant, perhaps two if the Sibling could locate Lift. “That is well,” she whispered, the Sibling transferring her words to Kaladin. “For now, I am reluctantly working with our captors. They have me and my scholars locked away in the eastern basement study room, near the gemstone pillar.”
Do you know what’s wrong with the Radiants? he asked.
“To an extent, yes,” she whispered. “The details are somewhat technical, but the tower had ancient protections to defend it from enemies who were using Voidlight. A Fused scholar inverted this; it now suppresses those who would use Stormlight. She did not complete the tower’s corruption, however. I narrowly prevented her from doing so by erecting a barrier around the pillar. Unfortunately, that same barrier prevents me from undoing the work she did there.”
So … what do we do?
“I don’t know,” Navani admitted. Dalinar would have probably told her to act strong, to pretend she had a plan when she didn’t—but she wasn’t a general. Pretending never worked with her scholars; they appreciated honesty. “I’ve barely had time to plan, and I’m still dragging from yesterday.”
I know that feeling, Kaladin said.
“The enemy has made the Oathgates work somehow,” Navani said, a plan forming in her mind. “My first goal is to continue protecting the Sibling, the spren of the tower. My second goal is to get word to my husband and the other monarchs. If we could figure out how the enemy is making the Oathgates work, I might be able to get my spanreeds functioning and send warning.”
That sounds like a pretty good start, Brightness, Kaladin said. I’m glad to have a direction to work toward. So you want me to find out how they’re operating the Oathgates?
“Exactly. My only guess is that they are powering them with Voidlight somehow—but I tried to make fabrials use Voidlight in the past, and failed. I know for a fact, however, that the enemy has functional spanreeds. I haven’t been able to get a good look at one of those—but if you could find out how they’re using the Oathgates, or other fabrials, that would give me something to work with.”
I’d need to get close to the Oathgates to do that, Kaladin said. And not be seen doing so.
“Yes. Can you manage that? I know you said your powers aren’t functioning completely.”
I … I’ll find a way, Brightness. I suspect the enemy won’t be using the Oathgates until nighttime. I think they’re trying to keep up a front of nothing being wrong with the tower, in case Dalinar sends scouts. They have some humans wearing Alethi uniforms patrolling outside. At night, even distant Windrunners trying to watch would be visible in the darkness. I suspect they’d find this a safer time to use the Oathgates.
Curious indeed. How long did Raboniel realistically think she could keep up such a subterfuge? Surely Dalinar would withdraw from the battlefield in Azir and focus everything on discovering what was wrong with Urithiru. Unless there were aspects to this that Navani wasn’t considering.
The implications of that frightened her. She was blind, locked away in this basement.
“Highmarshal,” she said to Kaladin, “I’ll try to contact you again tomorrow around the same time. Until then, be warned. The enemy will be seeking a way to disrupt the shield I erected. There are three nodes hidden in the tower, large gemstones infused with Stormlight that are maintaining the barrier, but the Sibling won’t say where they are.
“These nodes are direct channels to the heart of the tower, and as such are great points of vulnerability. If you find one, tell me. And be aware, if the enemy gains access to it, they can complete the tower’s corruption.”
Yes, sir. Er. Brightness.
“I need to go. Lift is awake somewhere too, so it would be worth keeping an eye out for her. At any rate, take care, Highmarshal. If the task proves too dangerous, retreat. We are too few right now to take unwise risks.”
Understood. After a moment’s pause, the Sibling’s voice continued, He has gone back to unpacking his supplies. You should be careful though, how you ask after fabrials. Do not forget that I consider what you have done to be a high crime.
“I’ve not forgotten,” Navani said. “But surely you don’t oppose the Oathgates.”
I do not, the Sibling said, sounding reluctant. Those spren have gone willingly to their transformations.
“Do you know why it works? Powering the Oathgates with Voidlight?”
No. The Oathgates are not part of me. I will leave you now. Our talking is suspicious.
Navani didn’t press the matter, instead making another circuit around her scholars. She wasn’t certain whether she trusted what the Sibling said. Could spren lie? She didn’t think she’d ever asked the Radiants’ spren. A foolish oversight.
At any rate, in Kaladin she at least had a connection to the rest of the tower. A lifeline. That was one step forward in finding a way out of this mess.
When in such a state, detachment is enviable. I have learned that my greatest discoveries come when I abandon lesser connections.
—From Rhythm of War, page 3 undertext
Two days after defeating Taravangian’s traitors, Dalinar stood in the war tent, helping prepare for the larger offensive against the singers in Emul. Just behind him stood Szeth in disguise. Nobody gave the man a second glance; Dalinar often had members of the Cobalt Guard with him.
Dalinar surveyed the war table with its maps and lists of troop numbers. So many different pieces, representing the state of their fighting across many different battlefronts. When he’d been younger, these types of abstractions had frustrated him. He’d wanted to be on the battlefield, Blade in hand, smashing his way through enemy lines and making such maps obsolete.
Then he’d begun to see the armies behind the little squares on the sheets of paper. Begun to truly grasp how the movement of troops—supplies, logistics, large-scale tactics—was more important than winning a given battle in person. And it had excited him.
Somehow he’d moved beyond that now. War—and all its facets—no longer excited him. It was important, and it was a thing he would do. But he had discovered a greater duty.
How do we win? Truly win, not merely gain an advantage for a time?
He mused on these thoughts as his generals and head scribes presented their final conclusions on the Veden betrayal.
“Our troops in southern Alethkar were successfully supported by the Thaylen ships, as you advised,” Teshav said. “Our generals along the coast were able to retreat through a series of fortresses as you directed. They have regrouped at Karanak—which we control. Because none of our battalions were completely surrounded by Vedens, we suffered virtually no losses.”
“Our navy locked the Veden ships into their ports,” said Kmakl, the aging Thaylen prince consort. “They won’t break our blockade anytime soon, unless the Fused and Skybreakers give them heavy air support.”
“We destroyed almost all the Vedens who betrayed us here,” said Omal, a short Azish general who wore a brightly colored patterned sash across his uniform coat. “Your leadership on the battlefield was excellent, Blackthorn—not to mention the timeliness of your warnings before the battle. Instead of burning our supply dumps and rescuing their king, they were nearly eliminated.”
Dalinar looked across the table at the Mink, who was smiling with a gap-toothed sense of satisfaction.
“This was very well handled, Uncle,” Jasnah said to him, surveying the war table map. “You averted a catastrophe.”
Noura conferred with the Azish emperor, who sat on a throne near the side of the battle tent, then walked over. “We regret the loss of such an important ally in Taravangian,” she said. “This betrayal will be felt—and prosecuted—by the Azish for generations. That said, we too approve of your handling of the situation. You did well to remain suspicious of him all these months, and we were unwise to think his treachery was all in the past.”
Something was still wrong. Taravangian had been so subtle for so many months. Yet now he let himself be captured?
His armies in Jah Keved seem not to care much about him, Dalinar thought, reading the displayed battle reports and figures as if they were whispered explanations in his ears. The Veden highprinces will be happy to put their own men in charge. And they seem quick to side with the singers, as the Iriali were.
Kharbranth, led by Taravangian’s daughter Savrahalidem, had disavowed their former ruler and proclaimed themselves neutral in the conflict—with their surgeons willing to continue serving whichever side petitioned their aid. Dalinar would have his ships blockade them just in case—but he wasn’t about to land troops there and fight a costly battle for such a relatively unimportant target. They likely knew that.
The real prize was Taravangian himself. Someone Dalinar already held captive. After the elderly king’s careful posturing over the years, how had he let his empire collapse practically overnight?
Why? Why risk it now?
“What news of Urithiru?” Dalinar asked.
“Windrunners should return soon with their latest visual on the tower,” Teshav said from the dim perimeter of the table. “But Brightness Navani’s most recent spanreed letter indicates that our people there are managing well.”
Navani continued to send soldiers hiking along the outside of the mountain faces to deliver messages. Each new bit told them a little more. Some of Taravangian’s scholars had activated a device like the one Highmarshal Kaladin had found. A separate collapse of the tunnels below—likely the work of saboteurs—made getting in and out that way impossible.
The device was hidden, and Navani hadn’t been able to find and deactivate it. She worried the search would take weeks. Unfortunately, Dalinar’s scouts had proven the device’s effectiveness. If they drew too close, they not only lost their powers, but dropped unconscious.