Words of Radiance (The Stormlight Archive 2)

“They are good men,” Kaladin said.

“It’s more than that. They knew you would return. What is it they understand about you that I don’t?”

Kaladin met his eyes.

“I’ve been searching for you, haven’t I?” Dalinar said. “All this time, without seeing it.”

Kaladin looked away. “No, sir. Maybe once, but… I’m just what you see, and not what you think. I’m sorry.”

Dalinar grunted, inspecting Kaladin’s face. He had almost thought… But perhaps not.

“Give him anything he wants or needs,” Dalinar said to the surgeons, letting them approach. “This man is a hero. Again.”

He withdrew, letting the bridgemen crowd around—which, of course, started the surgeons cursing at them again. Where had Amaram gone? The man had been here just a few minutes ago. As the palanquin arrived for Shallan, Dalinar decided to follow and find out just what it was that Kaladin said the girl knew.

* * *

One hour later, Shallan snuggled into a nest of warm blankets, wet hair on her neck, smelling of flowered perfume. She wore one of Navani’s dresses—which was too big for her. She felt like a child in her mother’s clothing. That was, perhaps, exactly what she was. Navani’s sudden affection was unexpected, but Shallan would certainly accept it.

The bath had been glorious. Shallan wanted to curl up on this couch and sleep for ten days. For the moment, however, she let herself revel in the distinctive feeling of being clean, warm, and safe for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.

“You can’t take her, Dalinar.” Navani’s voice came from Pattern on the table beside Shallan’s couch. She didn’t feel a moment’s guilt for sending him to spy on the two of them while she bathed. After all, they had been talking about her.

“This map…” Dalinar’s voice said.

“She can draw you a better map and you can take it.”

“She can’t draw what she hasn’t seen, Navani. She’ll need to be there, with us, to draw out the center of the pattern on the Plains once we penetrate in that direction.”

“Someone else—”

“Nobody else has been able to do this,” Dalinar said, sounding awed. “Four years, and none of our scouts or cartographers saw the pattern. If we’re going to find the Parshendi, I’m going to need her. I’m sorry.”

Shallan winced. She was not doing a very good job of keeping her drawing ability hidden.

“She just got back from that terrible place,” Navani’s voice said.

“I won’t let a similar accident occur. She will be safe.”

“Unless you all die,” Navani snapped. “Unless this entire expedition is a disaster. Then everything will be taken from me. Again.” Pattern stopped, then spoke further in his own voice. “He held her at this point, and whispered some things I did not hear. From there, they got very close and made some interesting noises. I can reproduce—”

“No,” Shallan said, blushing. “Too private.”

“Very well.”

“I need to go with them,” Shallan said. “I need to complete that map of the Shattered Plains and find some way to correlate it with the ancient ones of Stormseat.”

It was the only way to find the Oathgate. Assuming it wasn’t destroyed in whatever shattered the Plains, Shallan thought. And, if I do find it, will I even be able to open it? Only one of the Knights Radiant was said to be able to open the pathway.

“Pattern,” she said softly, clutching a mug of warmed wine, “I’m not a Radiant, right?”

“I do not think so,” he said. “Not yet. There is more to do, I believe, though I cannot be certain.”

“How can you not know?”

“I was not me when the Knights Radiant existed. It is complex to explain. I have always existed. We are not ‘born’ as men are, and we cannot truly die as men do. Patterns are eternal, as is fire, as is the wind. As are all spren. Yet, I was not in this state. I was not… aware.”

“You were a mindless spren?” Shallan said. “Like the ones that gather around me when I draw?”

“Less than that,” Pattern said. “I was… everything. In everything. I cannot explain it. Language is insufficient. I would need numbers.”

“Surely there are others among you, though,” Shallan said. “Older Cryptics? Who were alive back then?”

“No,” Pattern said softly. “None who experienced the bond.”

“Not a single one?”

“All dead,” Pattern said. “To us, this means they are mindless—as a force cannot truly be destroyed. These old ones are patterns in nature now, like Cryptics unborn. We have tried to restore them. It does not work. Mmmm. Perhaps if their knights still lived, something could be done…”

Stormfather. Shallan pulled the blanket around her closer. “An entire people, all killed?”

“Not just one people,” Pattern said, solemn. “Many. Spren with minds were less plentiful then, and the majorities of several spren peoples were all bonded. There were very few survivors. The one you call Stormfather lived. Some others. The rest, thousands of us, were killed when the event happened. You call it the Recreance.”

“No wonder you’re certain I will kill you.”

“It is inevitable,” Pattern said. “You will eventually betray your oaths, breaking my mind, leaving me dead—but the opportunity is worth the cost. My kind is too static. We always change, yes, but we change in the same way. Over and over. It is difficult to explain. You, though, you are vibrant. Coming to this place, this world of yours, I had to give up many things. The transition was… traumatic. My memory returns slowly, but I am pleased at the chance. Yes. Mmm.”

“Only a Radiant can open the pathway,” Shallan said, then took a sip of her wine. She liked the warmth it built inside of her. “But we don’t know why, or how. Maybe I’ll count as enough of a Radiant to make it work.”

“Perhaps,” Pattern said. “Or you could progress. Become more. There is something more you must do.”

“Words?” Shallan said.

“You have said the Words,” Pattern said. “You said them long ago. No… it is not words that you lack. It is truth.”

“You prefer lies.”

“Mmm. Yes, and you are a lie. A powerful one. However, what you do is not just lie. It is truth and lie mixed. You must understand both.”

Shallan sat in thought, finishing her wine, until the door to the sitting room burst open, letting in Adolin. He stopped, wild-eyed, regarding her.

Shallan stood up, smiling. “It appears that I have failed at properly—”

She cut off as he grabbed her in an embrace. Drat. She’d had a perfectly clever quip prepared too. She’d worked on it during the entire bath.

Still, it was nice to be held. This was the most physically forward he’d ever been. Surviving an impossible journey did have its benefits. She let herself wrap her arms around him, feel the muscles on his back through his uniform, breathe in his cologne. He held her for several heartbeats. Not enough. She twisted her head and forced a kiss, her mouth enclosing his, firm in his embrace.