Words of Radiance

Stormform is said to causeA tempest of winds and showers,Beware its powers, beware its powers.Though its coming brings the gods their night,It obliges a bloodred spren.Beware its end, beware its end.

From the Listener Song of Winds, 4th stanza

Kaladin watched the window shutters. Motion came in bursts.

First stillness. Yes, he could hear a distant howling, the wind passing through some hollow, but nothing nearby.

A tremble. Then wood rattling wickedly in its frame. Violent shaking, with water seeping in at the joints. Something was out there, in the dark chaos of the highstorm. It thrashed and pounded at the window, wanting in.

Light flashed out there, glistening through the drops of water. Another flash.

Then the light stayed. Steady, like glowing spheres, just outside. Faintly red. For some reason he couldn’t explain, Kaladin had the impression of eyes.

Transfixed, he raised his hand toward the latch, to open it and see.

“Someone really needs to fix that loose shutter,” King Elhokar said, annoyed.

The light faded. The rattling stopped. Kaladin blinked, lowering his hand.

“Someone remind me to ask Nakal to see to it,” Elhokar said, pacing behind his couch. “The shutter shouldn’t leak. This is my palace, not a village tavern!”

“We’ll make sure it’s seen to,” Adolin said. He sat in a chair beside the hearth, flipping through a book filled with sketches. His brother sat in a chair next to him, hands clasped in his lap. He was probably sore from his training, but he didn’t show it. Instead, he had gotten a small box out of his pocket and was repeatedly opening it, turning it in his hand, rubbing one side, then shutting it with a click. He did it over and over and over.

He stared at nothing as he did it. He seemed to do that a lot.

Elhokar continued pacing. Idrin—head of the King’s Guard—stood near the king, straight-backed, green eyes forward. He was dark-skinned for an Alethi, perhaps with some Azish blood in him, and wore a full beard.

Men from Bridge Four had been taking shifts with his men, as Dalinar suggested, and so far Kaladin had been impressed by the man and the team he had run. However, when the horns for a plateau run sounded, Idrin would turn toward them and his expression would grow longing. He wanted to be out there fighting. Sadeas’s betrayal had made a lot of the soldiers in camp similarly eager—as if they wanted the chance to prove how strong Dalinar’s army was.

More rumbling came from the storm outside. It was odd not to be cold during a highstorm—the barrack always felt chilly. This room was well heated, though not by a fire. Instead, the hearth held a ruby the size of Kaladin’s fist, one that could have paid to feed everyone in his hometown for weeks.

Kaladin left the window and sauntered toward the fireplace under the pretext of inspecting the gemstone. He really wanted a glimpse of whatever it was Adolin was looking through. Many men refused to even look at books, considering it unmasculine. Adolin didn’t seem to be bothered by that. Curious.

As he approached the hearth, Kaladin passed the door to a side room where Dalinar and Navani had retired at the advent of the storm. Kaladin had wanted to post a guard inside. They’d refused.

Well, this is the only way into that room, he thought. There’s not even a window.

This time, if words appeared on the wall, he would know for certain nobody was sneaking in.

Kaladin stooped down, inspecting the ruby in the hearth, which was held in place by a wire enclosure. Its strong heat made his face prickle with sweat; storms, that ruby was so large that the Light infusing it should have blinded him. Instead, he could stare into its depths and see the Light moving inside.

People thought that the illumination from gemstones was steady and calm, but that was just in contrast to flickering candlelight. If you looked deeply into a stone, you could see the Light shifting with the chaotic pattern of a blowing storm. It was not calm inside. Not by a wind or a whisper.

“Never seen a heating fabrial before, I assume?” Renarin asked.

Kaladin glanced at the bespectacled prince. He wore an Alethi highlord’s uniform, like that of Adolin. In fact, Kaladin had never seen them wearing anything else—other than Shardplate, of course.

“No, I haven’t,” Kaladin said.

“New technology,” Renarin said, still playing with his little metal box. “My aunt built that one herself. Every time I turn around, it seems the world has changed somehow.”

Kaladin grunted. I know how that feels. Part of him yearned to suck in the Light of that gemstone. A foolish move. There’d be enough in there to make him glow like a bonfire. He lowered his hands and strolled past Adolin’s chair.