Words of Radiance

Kaladin folded his arms, looking the youth over. Renarin looked anxious. Very anxious. He’d formed his hands to fists, though Kaladin could see no sign of the box Renarin often fiddled with when nervous. He’d begun breathing deeply, but had set his jaw, and kept his eyes forward.

Coming to see Kaladin, to ask this of him, terrified the young man for some reason. He’d done it anyway. Could one ask anything more of a recruit?

Am I really considering this? It seemed ludicrous. And yet, one of Kaladin’s jobs was to protect Renarin. If he could pound some solid self-defense skills into him, that would go a long way toward helping him survive assassination attempts.

“I should probably point out,” Renarin said, “how much easier it will be to guard me if I’m spending time training with your men. Your resources are thin, sir. Having one fewer person to protect must be appealing. The only times I’ll leave are the days when I practice with my Shards under Swordmaster Zahel.”

Kaladin sighed. “You really want to be a soldier?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Go take those dirty stew bowls and wash them,” Kaladin said, pointing. “Then help Rock clean his cauldron and put away the cooking implements.”

“Yes, sir!” Renarin said with an enthusiasm Kaladin had never heard from anyone assigned washing duty. Renarin jogged over and began happily snatching up bowls.

Kaladin folded his arms and leaned against the barrack. The men didn’t know how to react to Renarin. They’d hand over bowls of half-finished stew to please him, and conversation hushed when he was too near. But they’d been nervous around Shen too, before eventually coming to accept him. Could they ever do the same for a lighteyes?

Moash had refused to hand his bowl to Renarin, washing it himself, as was their common practice. Once done, he strolled over to Kaladin. “You’re really going to let him join?”

“I’ll speak to his father tomorrow,” Kaladin said. “Get the highprince’s read on it.”

“I don’t like it. Bridge Four, our nightly conversations… these things are supposed to be safe from them, you know?”

“Yeah,” Kaladin said. “But he’s a good kid. I think if any lighteyes could fit in here, he could.”

Moash turned, raising an eyebrow toward him.

“You disagree, I presume?” Kaladin asked.

“He doesn’t act right, Kal. The way he talks, the way he looks at people. He’s strange. That’s not important, though—he’s lighteyed, and that should be enough. It means we can’t trust him.”

“We don’t need to,” Kaladin said. “We’re just going to keep an eye on him, maybe try to train him to defend himself.”

Moash grunted, nodding. He seemed to accept those as good reasons for letting Renarin stay.

I’ve got Moash here, Kaladin thought. Nobody else is close enough to hear. I should ask…

But how did he form the words? Moash, were you involved in a plot to kill the king?

“Have you thought about what we’re going to do?” Moash asked. “Regarding Amaram, I mean.”

“Amaram is my problem.”

“You’re Bridge Four,” Moash said, taking Kaladin by the arm. “Your problem is our problem. He’s the one who made you a slave.”

“He did more than that,” Kaladin growled softly, ignoring Syl’s gesturing that he should remain quiet. “He killed my friends, Moash. Right before my eyes. He’s a murderer.”

“Then something has to be done.”

“It does,” Kaladin asked. “But what? You think I should go to the authorities?”

Moash laughed. “What are they going to do? You have to get the man into a duel, Kaladin. Bring him down, man against man. Until you do it, something’s going to feel wrong to you, deep down in your gut.”

“You sound like you know what this feels like.”

“Yeah.” Moash gave a little half smile. “I have some Voidbringers in my past too. Maybe that’s why I understand you. Maybe that’s why you understand me.”

“Then what—”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Moash said.

“We’re Bridge Four,” Kaladin said, “like you said. Your problems are mine.” What did the king do to your family, Moash?

“Suppose that’s true,” Moash said, turning away. “I just… Not tonight. Tonight, I just want to relax.”

“Moash!” Teft called from nearer the fire. “You coming?”

“I am,” Moash called back. “What about you, Lopen? You ready?”

Lopen grinned, standing up and stretching beside the fire. “I am the Lopen, which means I am ready for anything at any time. You should know this by now.”

Nearby, Drehy snorted and flipped a chunk of stewed longroot at Lopen. It splatted against the Herdazian’s face.

Lopen kept right on talking. “As you can see, I was perfectly ready for that, as shown by the poise I display as I make this decidedly rude gesture.”

Teft chuckled as he, Peet, and Sigzil walked over to join Lopen. Moash moved to go with them, then hesitated. “You coming, Kal?”

“Where?” Kaladin asked.

“Out,” Moash said, shrugging. “Visit a few taverns, play some rings, get something to drink.”