Rhythm of War (9781429952040)

by Brandon Sanderson

  “How do you know all these things?” Venli demanded, walking back. “How do you know about forms of power? Who are you?”

  The woman removed something from within her covered sleeve. A single glowing gemstone. Blood red.

  “Take that into a storm,” the woman said. “And break it. Inside, you will find a path toward saving those you love.”

  The woman stood and left the gem sitting on the rock.

  I am led to wonder, from experiences such as this, if we have been wrong. We call humans alien to Roshar, yet they have lived here for thousands of years now. Perhaps it is time to acknowledge there are no aliens or interlopers. Only cousins.

  —From Rhythm of War, page 5 undertext

  Timbre was uncharacteristically silent as Venli finished her account. Venli had taken the long way up to the sixth floor to gather reports for Raboniel, and had spent the time explaining about that day—the day she’d made her first choice down this path. The day she’d taken that gemstone, and hidden it from her mother and her sister.

  Venli could tell herself all she wanted that her motives had been noble. She knew the truth. She’d kept that secret because she’d been afraid of losing the glory of discovering a new form to her sister.

  Instead, the reverse had happened; Venli lived her sister’s destiny. Venli had ended up with Timbre. Venli had become Radiant. Venli had lived. These were proof that the cosmere made mistakes.

  Venli entered the refreshingly cool sixth-floor balcony room where scouting operations had been set up. Raboniel thought the humans had deliberately destroyed maps of the tower, so this group was making their own. Ruling this place was going to be a huge chore, one Venli was glad she didn’t have to organize.

  The singers here hummed to Praise as Venli entered, showing her respect. Even the two relayform Regals gave deference to a Voice such as Venli. She asked for, and was given, a wide range of reports on the activities up here.

  Everything from the seventh floor up was unoccupied. Consequently, they were setting up checkpoints at each stairwell on the sixth floor, worried that panicked humans might try to hide on the many upper floors once confinement to quarters was relaxed. And confinement to quarters would need to be relaxed soon. The humans were running out of food and water. Venli suspected Raboniel would give the word for normal operations to recommence by the end of the day.

  They’d found a large number of unconscious Radiants, many of whom had been in the homes of people trying to protect or hide them. Venli hummed to Derision as she scanned the list. The foolish people were lucky; Raboniel was more lenient than some Fused. She had ordered that anyone found keeping Radiants would be punished, and the Radiants executed—but that any Radiants revealed willingly would be spared.

  It had been a wise move: many Radiants had been offered up after her announcement. The few found later had been executed, along with one member of each family hiding them. A stern but just application of the law. Timbre found it horrifying. Venli found it amazing Raboniel hadn’t executed them all.

  She wants these Radiants for something, she thought. Something to do with her plans, her experiments. Venli had not forgotten what had earned the Lady of Wishes her terrible reputation: an attempt long ago to create a disease that would end the war by exterminating all of humankind.

  Well, Venli might have her own use for these Radiants. She listened with half an ear to the reports, until the relayform said something that drew her full attention.

  “Wait,” Venli said. “Repeat that?”

  “A human surgeon killed one of our number during the investigations the other night,” the malen said.

  “I haven’t heard of this,” Venli said.

  “We reported it at the time, and a Fused took charge immediately, so we assumed it had gotten back to Raboniel. This human took an unconscious Windrunner with him when he fled.”

  “Which Fused did you report this to?”

  “The Pursuer.”

  Timbre pulsed worryingly.

  “Do we have a description of this human surgeon?” Venli asked.

  “Tall male,” the Regal said. “Shoulder-length wavy hair. Slave brands. The soldier who witnessed the event claimed the human was glowing with Stormlight, but we suspect our soldier was merely rattled. He proved to be a coward, and has been assigned to waste detail.”

  Venli hummed to Thoughtfulness, though she felt a mounting dread. Kaladin Stormblessed was in the tower; he hadn’t gone with the main bulk of his kind to the war in Emul. And he was … somehow still conscious? Leshwi would want to know that. She had asked Venli to watch over Raboniel specifically, but surely this was a matter deserving of her true master’s attention.

  “I see,” Venli said to Thoughtfulness. “Has this human been found?”

  “He fled to the upper floors,” the Regal explained to Spite. “We searched and found nothing—even the Pursuer, who was certain the human was close, was unable to locate him.”

  “The Lady of Wishes will find this interesting,” Venli said. “Send me word if anything more is discovered.”

  The Regal hummed to Command in acknowledgment, then gave Venli a list with descriptions of all the other Radiants surrendered to this group. Raboniel wanted them kept all in one room, being watched. Venli would have to put her people to work looking for a suitable location.

  One conscious Windrunner, when all the others remained unconscious. Yes, she’d find a way to send a note about this to Leshwi. “The singer who saw the human kill our soldier,” Venli said, moving to leave. “Give me his name and station. The Lady of Wishes may want me to interrogate him.”

  The Regal hummed to Derision. “The coward won’t be able to tell you much. If the Lady of Wishes is truly interested in this murderous human, she should wait until this evening for another report.”

  “Why?”

  “By then the Pursuer will have interrogated the human’s family,” the Regal said. “And will have exacted revenge for the death of our soldier.”

  The rhythms went silent. Timbre, hidden deep within Venli’s gemheart, seemed to be holding her breath.

  “We captured them, then?” Venli said.

  “They’re locked in the clinic a short way from here,” the Regal said to Craving. “A surgeon, his wife, one child. We only now discovered they are the murderous human’s family. It’s a pity the Lady of Wishes has ordered us to be so tame during this occupation, but at least we’ll get a little blood tonight.”

  Venli tried to hum to Conceit as she left, but found nothing. No rhythms at all—it was unnerving. She shoved the list of descriptions in her pocket, and as soon as she was a short way from the scout post she hissed, “What are you doing?”

  Timbre pulsed, and the rhythms slowly returned. Venli relaxed. For a moment she’d worried something was wrong.

  Timbre pulsed morosely. To her, something was wrong.

  “I agree that it’s unfortunate about the Windrunner’s family,” Venli said. “But at the same time, their son was involved in killing one of our troops.”

  Timbre pulsed again.

  “I suppose they aren’t our troops,” Venli agreed. “But why do you care so much? Don’t you hate humans?”

  That drew a sharp rebuke. Just because Timbre and the other Reachers had decided not to bond humans any longer, it didn’t mean she hated them. And killing someone’s family because they resisted? That was terrible. Many Fused wouldn’t take that step, but the Pursuer—and his troops … well, she’d heard the bloodthirst in that relayform’s rhythms.

  Venli walked in silence, troubled. She had her own business to see to, her own problems. Yet Timbre continued to pulse softly, urging her. Venli had seen the Blackthorn once in a vision. The Bondsmith. He’d shown her kindness. And so many of the humans of this tower, they were just people trying to live their lives.

  Eshonai would have done something.

  “I’m a fraud, Timbre,” Venli whispered. “A fake Radiant. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  T
imbre pulsed. The meaning was clear.

  I do.

  It was enough. Venli turned and started down the steps, picking up speed as she went. There wasn’t much Venli could do directly to help the family. Her authority as Voice certainly wouldn’t extend to countering the will of the Pursuer.

  Instead she made her way to the majestic atrium of the tower. This enormous opening far within the tower reminded her of the shaft that led to the basement—a circular breach in the stone. Only this was on a far grander scale, over a hundred feet wide. It stretched tall, high into the darkness above, and seemed to reach all the way to the very top.

  Lifts ran up and down the inside of the atrium, though they needed Voidlight to work now. The far wall—pointed directly east—was not stone, but instead a flat glass window. Amazingly large, it showed snow-covered peaks and provided natural light to the entire atrium.

  The lifts were barely in use, as the singers were focused on establishing control of the lower floors. To avoid alerting human Windrunner scouts, the shanay-im were forbidden from soaring around outside. They’d taken up residence here instead, within this grand hall, hovering in the open air. Venli used her authority to commandeer a lift, then made her way up to the fifteenth floor. Here she found Leshwi meditating with her long clothing drifting beneath her, with only two servants to see to her needs. She’d donated the others to Raboniel.

  Leshwi noticed Venli immediately, cracking an eye. Venli sent the two servants away and hummed to Craving, standing patiently and waiting for her mistress to formally acknowledge her. Leshwi drifted over to the balcony and rested one hand on the railing.

  Venli approached quickly, humming to Tribute.

  “Why have you not approached in secret, as I explained?” Leshwi demanded.

  Leshwi had set up a method for Venli to clandestinely deliver notes about Raboniel. Venli found the whole thing a baffling part of Fused politics. Raboniel knew that Venli was spying, and Leshwi knew that Raboniel knew, yet they both pretended the subterfuge was unknown.

  “The Windrunner you wish to defeat is here in the tower,” Venli said, “and I have reason to believe he did not fall unconscious. In fact, he still has access to his powers.”

  Leshwi hummed abruptly to Exultation. A telling choice.

  “Where?” Leshwi said.

  “He killed a soldier who was trying to collect the unconscious Radiants,” Venli said, “then escaped into the tower. He rescued one other Windrunner.”

  “Honor propels him,” Leshwi said, “even now. Even after his god’s death. This is excellent news, Venli. You did well to break protocol to bring me this. Does the Pursuer know?”

  “Yes, unfortunately.”

  “Raboniel will let him ignore my prior claim,” Leshwi said. “He won’t even be reprimanded for it, so long as it is in service of hunting a fugitive. Poor Stormblessed. He has given them the spear by which to impale him. If I wish to fight him myself, I will need to locate him first.”

  “And do you wish to fight him, Ancient One?” Venli asked. “Is that truly why you want to find him? To kill him?”

  “Why would you ask this?” Leshwi asked to Craving.

  Venli would have let it die at that, feeling foolish. But Timbre pulsed, nudging her.

  “You seem to respect him,” Venli said.

  Leshwi hummed softly, but Venli did not catch the rhythm. Odd. Her powers normally let her understand anything her mistress said or implied. There was something familiar about that rhythm though.

  “It is rare to find a human who can fight in the skies well enough to be a challenge for me,” Leshwi said. “And his spren … I hear she is ancient.… But never mind that. You will not raise this matter with me again.”

  Timbre pulsed, indicating Venli should tell her mistress. About them. About being Radiant.

  Stupidity. Venli immediately shied back at the idea. Leshwi would kill her.

  “Is there something else?” Leshwi said to Command.

  “Stormblessed’s family is being held by the Pursuer’s guards,” Venli said. “They are on the sixth floor, in a clinic at the perimeter, near the main corridor. The Pursuer plans to interrogate them, and I fear it will turn ugly. Many of his troops are angry they were forbidden to kill during the incursion. They are … excitable.”

  “Violent and bloodthirsty, you mean.”

  “Yes, Ancient One. The … the family of the Windrunner would be an excellent resource for us, mistress. If you wish to find him before the Pursuer, then perhaps holding them would give us an advantage.”

  Leshwi hummed to Thoughtfulness. “You are merciful, Venli. Do not reveal this Passion to others. Wait here.”

  Leshwi pushed off and soared downward, doing a loop and turning gracefully into the lit central corridor on the sixth floor. Venli waited, Timbre pulsing in concern.

  It took a good hour for Leshwi to finally return, soaring upward from the direction of the large market on the ground floor.

  “What did you do?” Venli asked.

  “I took the Windrunner’s family into my custody,” Leshwi said. “My position gives me authority over the Pursuer.”

  “You didn’t hurt them, did you?” Venli asked to Pleading.

  Leshwi stared at her, and only after a moment did Venli realize she’d slipped and used one of the old rhythms. Pleading was one of Roshar’s rhythms, not Odium’s.

  “I did not,” Leshwi said. “And now that I’ve moved—and extended myself in this way—the Pursuer won’t dare harm them. At least not unless the power dynamic shifts in the tower. I placed the family in a safe location and told them to remain hidden. We might need them, as you indicated.”

  Venli hummed to Subservience.

  “Find a place where we can watch them, then send me a note. I will consider if there is a way to use them to find Stormblessed, and for now will spread a rumor that I have disposed of them. Even if the Pursuer finds the truth, though, they should be safe for the time being. That said, I give warning again: You must not let others see your compassion for humans. It will be misconstrued, particularly with you being the child of traitors.”

  “Yes, Ancient One.”

  “Go,” she said. “I consider what I have done here today a favor to you. Do not forget it.”

  Venli hummed to Subservience and left quickly. Timbre pulsed encouragingly.

  “I am a false Radiant,” Venli said. “You know this.”

  Timbre pulsed again. Perhaps. But today had been a step in the right direction.

  It would have been so easy if Voidlight and Stormlight destroyed one another. Such a simple answer.

  —From Rhythm of War, page 6

  “Grampa,” little Gavinor asked. “Was my daddy brave when he died?”

  Dalinar settled down on the floor of the small room, setting aside the wooden sword he’d been using to play at a greatshell hunt. Had Adolin ever been this small?

  He was determined not to miss so much of Gav’s life as he had his sons’. He wanted to love and cherish this solemn child with dark hair and pure yellow eyes.

  “He was very brave,” Dalinar said, waving for the child to come sit in his lap. “So very brave. He went almost alone to our home, to try to save it.”

  “To save me,” Gav said softly. “He died because of me.”

  “No!” Dalinar said. “He died because of evil people.”

  “Evil people … like Mommy?”

  Storms. This poor child.

  “Your mother,” Dalinar said, “was also brave. She didn’t do those terrible things; it was the enemy, who had taken over her mind. Do you understand? Your mother loved you.”

  Gav nodded, serious beyond his years. He did like playing at greatshell hunts, though he didn’t laugh during them like other children would. He treated even play as a somber occasion.

  Dalinar tried to restart the pretend hunt, but the boy’s mind seemed overshadowed by these dark thoughts. After just another few minutes, Gav complained that he was tired. So Dalinar let his nur
semaid take him to rest. Then Dalinar lingered at the doorway, watching her tuck him into bed.

  What five-year-old wanted to go to bed? Though Dalinar had not been the most dutiful parent, he did remember lengthy complaints from both Adolin and Renarin on evenings like this, when they insisted they were old enough to stay up and they did not feel tired. Gav instead clutched his little wooden sword, which he kept with him at all times, and drifted off.

  Dalinar left the small home, nodding to the guards outside. The Azish thought it strange that the Alethi officers brought families to war, but how else were children to learn proper military protocol?

  It was the evening following Jasnah’s stunt with Ruthar, and Dalinar had spent most of the day—before visiting Gav—speaking via spanreed to highlords and highladies, smoothing over their concerns about the near execution. He’d made certain the legality of Jasnah’s actions would not be questioned. And he’d personally talked to Relis, Ruthar’s son.

  The young man had lost a bout to Adolin back in the warcamps, and Dalinar had worried about his motivations now. However, it seemed that Relis was eager to prove he could be a loyalist. Dalinar had made certain that his father was taken to Azimir and given a small house there, where he could be watched. Regardless of what Jasnah said, Dalinar wouldn’t have a former highprince begging for scraps.

  Finally—after smoothing things over with the Azish, who did not appreciate Alethi trials by sword—he was feeling he had the situation under control. He stopped in the middle of the camp, thoughtful. He’d almost forgotten Renarin’s talk of his episode the day before.

  Dalinar turned and strode through the warcamp—a bustling illustration of organized chaos. Messengers ran this way and that, mostly wearing the patterned livery of the various Azish scribe orders. Alethi captains had their soldiers hauling supplies or marking the stone ground with painted lines to indicate directions.

  A trail of wagons snaked in from the northwest, a lifeline to populated lands and fertile hills untouched by war. Fearing that this camp was already a big target, Dalinar had posted many of his Soulcasters in Azimir.