Words of Radiance

He took a deep breath, regaining control, with effort. “He can do things I can’t,” he finally said, opening his eyes and looking toward Syl, who stood in the air near him. “The assassin. Is it because I have more Words to speak?”

“There are more,” Syl said. “You’re not ready for them yet, I don’t think. Regardless, I think you could already do what he does. With practice.”

“But how is he Surgebinding? You said that the assassin had no spren.”

“No honorspren would give that creature the means to slaughter as he does.”

“Perspectives can be different among humans,” Kaladin said, trying to keep the emotion from his voice as he turned Beld facedown so he wouldn’t have to see those shriveled, burned-out eyes. “What if the honorspren thought this assassin was doing the right thing? You gave me the means to slaughter Parshendi.”

“To protect.”

“In their eyes, the Parshendi are protecting their kind,” Kaladin said. “To them, I’m the aggressor.”

Syl sat down, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I don’t know. Maybe. But no other honorspren are doing what I do. I am the only one who disobeyed. But his Shardblade…”

“What of it?” Kaladin asked.

“It was different. Very different.”

“It looked ordinary to me. Well, as ordinary as a Shardblade can.”

“It was different,” she repeated. “I feel I should know why. Something about the amount of Light he was consuming…”

Kaladin rose, then walked down the side corridor, holding up his lamp. It bore sapphires, turning the walls blue. The assassin had cut that hole with his Blade, entered the corridor, and killed Beld. But Kaladin had sent two men on ahead.

Yes, another body. Hobber, one of the first men Kaladin had saved in Bridge Four. Storms take that assassin! Kaladin remembered saving this man after he had been left by everyone else to die on the plateau.

Kaladin knelt beside the corpse, rolled it over.

And found it weeping.

“I… I’m… sorry,” Hobber said, overcome with emotion and barely able to speak. “I’m sorry, Kaladin.”

“Hobber!” Kaladin said. “You’re alive!” Then he noticed that the legs of Hobber’s uniform had been sliced through at midthigh. Beneath the fabric, Hobber’s legs were darkened and grey, dead, as Kaladin’s arm had been.

“I didn’t even see him,” Hobber said. “He cut me down, then stabbed Beld straight through. I listened to you fighting. I thought you’d all died.”

“It’s all right,” Kaladin said. “You’re all right.”

“I can’t feel my legs,” Hobber said. “They’re gone. I’m no soldier anymore, sir. I’m useless now. I—”

“No,” Kaladin said firmly. “You’re still Bridge Four. You’re always Bridge Four.” He forced himself to smile. “We’ll just have Rock teach you how to cook. How are you with stew?”

“Awful, sir,” Hobber said. “I can burn broth.”

“Then you’ll fit right in with most military cooks. Come on, let’s get you back to the others.” Kaladin strained, getting his arms under Hobber, trying to lift him.

His body would have none of it. He let out an involuntary groan, putting Hobber back down.

“It’s all right, sir,” Hobber said.

“No,” Kaladin said, sucking in the Light of one of the spheres in the lamp. “It’s not.” He heaved again, lifting Hobber, then carried him back toward the others.

34. Blossoms and Cake

Our gods were born splinters of a soul,Of one who seeks to take control,

Destroys all lands that he beholds, with spite.They are his spren, his gift, his price.But the nightforms speak of future life,A challenged champion. A strife even he must requite.From the Listener Song of Secrets, final stanza

Highprince Valam might be dead, Brightness Tyn, the spanreed wrote. Our informants are uncertain. He was never in the best of health, and now there are rumors that his illness finally overcame him. His forces are gearing up to seize Vedenar, however, so if he’s dead, his bastard son is likely pretending he is not.

Shallan sat back, though the reed continued writing. It moved seemingly of its own volition, paired to an identical reed used by Tyn’s associate somewhere in Tashikk. They’d set up regular camp following the highstorm, Shallan joining Tyn in her magnificent tent. The air still smelled of rain, and the floor of the tent let some water leak through, wetting Tyn’s rug. Shallan wished she’d worn her oversized boots instead of slippers.