Words of Radiance

Storms. They’d have seen him flying out here, wouldn’t they? What would they think? Were any close enough to have seen him land?

Well, he couldn’t do anything about that now. He reached the bottom of the chasm and started walking back toward the warcamps, his Stormlight slowly dying out, leaving him in darkness. He felt deflated without it, sluggish, tired.

He fished the last infused sphere from his pocket and used it to light his path.

“There’s a question you’re avoiding,” Syl said, landing on his shoulder. “It’s been two days. When are you going to tell Dalinar about those men that Moash took you to meet?”

“He didn’t listen when I told him about Amaram.”

“This is obviously different,” Syl said.

It was, and she was right. So why hadn’t he told Dalinar?

“Those men didn’t seem the type who would wait long,” Syl said.

“I’ll do something about them,” Kaladin said. “I just want to think about it some more. I don’t want Moash to get caught in the storm when we bring them down.”

She fell silent as he walked the rest of the way, retrieving his spear, then climbed the ladder up onto the plateaus. The sky overhead had grown cloudy, but the weather had been turning toward spring lately.

Enjoy it while you can, he thought. The Weeping comes soon. Weeks of ceaseless rain. No Tien to cheer him up. His brother had always been able to do that.

Amaram had taken that from him. Kaladin lowered his head and started walking. At the warcamps’ edge, he turned right and walked northward.

“Kaladin?” Syl asked, flitting in beside him. “Why are you walking this way?”

He looked up. This was the way toward Sadeas’s camp. Dalinar’s camp was the other direction.

Kaladin kept walking.

“Kaladin? What are you doing?”

Finally, he stopped in place. Amaram would be there, just ahead, inside Sadeas’s camp somewhere. It was late, Nomon inching toward its zenith.

“I could end him,” Kaladin said. “Enter his window in a flash of Stormlight, kill him, and be off before anyone has time to react. So easy. Everyone would blame it on the Assassin in White.”

“Kaladin…”

“It’s justice, Syl,” he said, suddenly angry, turning toward her. “You tell me that I need to protect. If I kill him, that’s what I’m doing! Protecting people, keeping him from ruining them. Like he ruined me.”

“I don’t like how you get,” she said, seeming small, “when you think about him. You stop being you. You stop thinking. Please.”

“He killed Tien,” Kaladin said. “I will end him, Syl.”

“But tonight?” Syl asked. “After what you just discovered, after what you just did?”

He took a deep breath, remembering the thrill of the chasms and the freedom of flight. He’d felt true joy for the first time in what seemed like ages.

Did he want to taint that memory with Amaram? No. Not even with the man’s demise, which would surely be a wonderful day.

“All right,” he said, turning back toward Dalinar’s camp. “Not tonight.”

Evening stew was finished by the time Kaladin arrived back at the barracks. He passed the fire, where embers still glowed, and made his way to his room. Syl zipped up into the air. She’d ride the winds overnight, playing with her cousins. So far as he knew, she didn’t need sleep.

He stepped into his private room, feeling tired and drained, but in a pleasing way. It—

Someone stirred in the room.

Kaladin spun, leveling his spear, and sucked in the last light of the sphere he’d been using to guide his way. The Light that streamed off him revealed a red and black face. Shen looked disturbingly eerie in those shadows, like an evil spren from the stories.

“Shen,” Kaladin said, lowering his spear. “What in the—”

“Sir,” Shen said. “I must leave.”

Kaladin frowned.

“I am sorry,” Shen added speaking in his slow, deliberate way. “I cannot tell you why.” He seemed to be waiting for something, his hands tense on his spear. The spear Kaladin had given him.

“You’re a free man, Shen,” Kaladin said. “I won’t keep you here if you feel you must go, but I don’t know that there is another place you can go where you will be able to make good on your freedom.”

Shen nodded, then moved to walk past Kaladin.

“You are leaving tonight?”

“Immediately.”

“The guards at the edges of the Plains might try to stop you.”

Shen shook his head. “Parshmen do not flee captivity. They will see only a slave doing some assigned task. I will leave your spear beside the fire.” He walked to the door, but then hesitated beside Kaladin, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You are a good man, Captain. I have learned much. My name is not Shen. It is Rlain.”

“May the winds treat you well, Rlain.”

“The winds are not what I fear,” Rlain said. He patted Kaladin’s shoulder, then took a deep breath as if anticipating something difficult, and stepped from the chamber.

53. Perfection