Words of Radiance

“Ooo…” Shallan said, eyes wide. She looked like she’d been given a pile of jewelry—only instead, it was a slimy lump of something that Kaladin would have expected to find stuck to the bottom of his boot.

“That,” Adolin said, “is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s like the stuff in the middle of a hasper, only without the shell.”

“It’s one of the sarpenthyn,” Shallan said.

“Poor thing,” Adolin said. “Did its mother give it that name?”

Shallan swatted him on the shoulder. “It’s a family.”

“So the mother was behind it.”

“A family of animals, idiot. They have more of them in the west, where the storms aren’t as strong. I’ve only seen a few of them—we’ve got little ones in Jah Keved, but nothing like this. I don’t even know what species this is.” She hesitated, then stuck her fingers through the bars and grabbed one of the tentacle arms.

The thing pulled away immediately, inflating to look bigger, raising two of its arms behind its head in a threatening way. Adolin yelped and pulled Shallan back.

“He said not to touch any of them!” Adolin said. “What if it’s poisonous?”

Shallan ignored him, digging a notebook from her satchel. “Warm to the touch,” she mumbled to herself. “Truly warm-blooded. Fascinating. I need a sketch of it.” She squinted at a little plaque on the cage. “Well, that’s useless.”

“What does it say?” Adolin asked.

“‘Devil rock captured in Marabethia. The locals claim it is the reborn vengeful spirit of a child who was murdered.’ Not even a mention of its species. What kind of scholarship is this?”

“It’s a menagerie, Shallan,” Adolin said, chuckling. “Brought all this distance to entertain soldiers and camp followers.”

Indeed, the menagerie was popular. As Shallan sketched, Kaladin kept busy watching those who passed by, making certain they kept their distance. He saw everything from washmaids and tenners to officers, and even some higher lighteyes. Behind them, a lighteyed woman was paraded past in her palanquin, barely even glancing at the cages. It provided quite a contrast to Shallan’s eager drawing and Adolin’s good-natured gibes.

Kaladin wasn’t giving those two enough credit. They might ignore him, but they weren’t actively mean to him. They were happy and pleasant. Why did that annoy him so?

Eventually, Shallan and Adolin moved on to the next cage, which contained skyeels and a large tub of water for them to dip in. They didn’t look as comfortable as the “devil rock.” There wasn’t much room to move in the cage, and they didn’t often take to the air. Not very interesting.

Next was a cage with a creature that looked like a small chull, but with larger claws. Shallan wanted a sketch of this one too, so Kaladin found himself lounging beside the cage, watching people pass and listening to Adolin try to crack jokes to amuse his betrothed. He wasn’t very good at it, but Shallan laughed anyway.

“Poor thing,” Syl said, landing on the floor of the cage, looking at its crab occupant. “What kind of life is this?”

“A safe one.” Kaladin shrugged. “At least it has no need to worry about predators. Always kept fed. I doubt a chull-thing could ask for more than that.”

“Oh?” Syl asked. “And you’d be all right if that were you.”

“Of course not. I’m not a chull-thing. I’m a soldier.”

They moved on, passing cage after cage of animals. Some Shallan wanted to draw, others she concluded didn’t need an immediate sketch. The one she found the most fascinating was also the strangest, a kind of colorful chicken with red, blue, and green feathers. She dug out colored pencils to do that sketch. Apparently, she’d missed a chance at sketching one of these a long time ago.

Kaladin had to admit the thing was pretty. How did it survive, though? It had shell on the very front of its face, but the rest of it wasn’t squishy, so it couldn’t hide in cracks like the devil rock. What did this chicken do when a storm came?

Syl landed on Kaladin’s shoulder.

“I’m a soldier,” Kaladin repeated, speaking very softly.

“That’s what you were

,” Syl said.

“It’s what I want to be again.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mostly.” He folded his arms, spear leaning against his shoulder. “The only thing is… It’s crazy, Syl. Insane. My time as a bridgeman was the worst in my life. We suffered death, oppression, indignity. Yet I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alive as I did in those final weeks.”

Next to the work he’d done with Bridge Four, being a simple soldier—even a highly respected one, like captain of a highprince’s guard—just felt mundane. Ordinary.

But soaring on the winds—that had been anything but ordinary.

“You’re almost ready, aren’t you?” Syl whispered.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

The next cage in line had a large crowd around it, and even a few fearspren wiggling out of the ground. Kaladin pushed in, though he didn’t have to clear a space—the people made room for Dalinar’s heir as soon as they realized who he was. Adolin walked past them without a second glance, obviously accustomed to such deference.