Words of Radiance

What is the thing doing? Kaladin thought, leaning to the side. With surprise, he noticed grass poking out of its holes. Licking fools the grass into thinking rain has come. Often after a storm, plants would unfold to glut themselves on the water even if insects decided to chew them. Clever beast. Lazy. But clever.

“You need to show her you’re in charge,” Jenet said, wandering past. “Tighten the reins, sit up straight, pull her head up, and don’t let her eat. She’ll walk all over you if you aren’t firm.”

Kaladin tried to obey, and did manage—finally—to pull the horse away from her meal. The horse did smell odd, but it wasn’t a bad smell really. He got her walking, and once that happened, steering wasn’t that difficult. It felt strange to have some other thing in control of where he was going, however. Yes, he had the reins, but at any time this horse could just up and take off running and he’d be unable to do anything about it. Half of Jenet’s training had been about not spooking the horses—about remaining still if one started to gallop, and about never surprising one from behind.

It looked higher from atop the horse than he’d assumed it would. That was a long fall to the ground. He guided the horse about, and after a short time, he managed to pull up beside Natam on purpose. The long-faced bridgeman held his reins as if they were precious gemstones, afraid to yank them or direct his horse.

“Can’t believe people ride these things on storming purpose,” Natam said. He had a rural Alethi accent, his words bluntly clipped, like he was biting them off before he’d quite finished them. “I mean, we ain’t moving any faster than walking, right?”

Again, Kaladin remembered the image of that charging mounted Shardbearer from long ago. Yes, Kaladin could see the reason for horses. Sitting up higher made it easier to strike with power, and the size of the horse—its bulk and momentum—frightened soldiers on foot and sent them scattering.

“I think most go faster than these,” Kaladin said. “I’d bet they gave us the old horses to practice on.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Natam said. “It’s warm. Didn’t expect that. I’ve ridden chulls before. This thing shouldn’t be so… warm. Hard to feel like this thing is worth as much as it is. It’s like I’m riding about on a pile of emerald broams.” He hesitated, glancing backward. “Only, emeralds’ backsides ain’t nearly so busy…”

“Natam,” Kaladin asked. “Do you remember much about the day when someone tried to kill the king?”

“Oh, sure,” Natam said. “I was with the guys who ran out there and found him flapping in the wind, like the Stormfather’s own ears.”

Kaladin smiled. Once, this man would barely say two sentences together, instead always staring at the ground, somber. Used up by his time as a bridgeman. These last few weeks had been good for Natam. Good for them all.

“Before the storm that night,” Kaladin said. “Was anyone out on the balcony? Any servants you didn’t recognize? Any soldiers who weren’t from the King’s Guard?”

“No servants that I recall,” Natam said, squinting. The once-farmer got a pensive look on his face. “I guarded the king all day, sir, with the King’s Guard. Ain’t nothing standing out to me. I— Whoa!” His horse had suddenly picked up speed, outpacing Kaladin’s.

“Think about it!” Kaladin called to him. “See what you can remember!”

Natam nodded, still holding his reins like they were glass, refusing to pull them tight or steer the horse. Kaladin shook his head.

A small horse galloped past him. In the air. Made of light. Syl giggled, changing shape and spinning around as a ribbon of light before settling on the neck of Kaladin’s horse, just in front of him.

She lounged back, grinning, then frowned at his expression. “You’re not enjoying yourself,” Syl said.

“You’re starting to sound a lot like my mother.”

“Captivating?” Syl said. “Amazing, witty, meaningful?”

“Repetitive.”

“Captivating?” Syl said. “Amazing, witty, meaningful?”

“Very funny.”

“Says the man not laughing,” she replied, folding her arms. “All right, so what is drearifying you today?”

“Drearifying?” Kaladin frowned. “Is that a word?”

“You don’t know?”

He shook his head.

“Yes,” Syl said solemnly. “Yes, it absolutely is.”

“Something’s off,” he said. “About the conversation I just had with Natam.” He tugged on the reins, stopping the horse from trying to bend down and nibble at grass again. The thing was very focused.

“What did you talk about?”

“The assassination attempt,” Kaladin said, narrowing his eyes. “And if he’d seen anyone before the…” He paused. “Before the storm.”

He looked down and met Syl’s eyes.

“The storm itself would have blown down the railing,” Kaladin said.

“Bending it!” Syl said, standing up and grinning. “Ooohhh…”

“It was cut clean through, the mortar on the bottom chipped away,” Kaladin continued. “I’ll bet the force of the winds was easily equal to the weight the king put on it.”