Oathbringer (The Stormlight Archive 3)

“Were us,” Dalinar whispered. He felt cold, like he’d been dunked in icy water. “They named us Voidbringers.”

Jasnah sighed. “I have suspected this for a time. The first Desolation was the invasion of humankind onto Roshar. We came here and seized this land from the parshmen—after we accidentally used Surgebinding to destroy our previous world. That is the truth that destroyed the Radiants.”

The Stormfather rumbled in his mind. Dalinar stared at that sheet of paper in Navani’s hand. Such a small, seemingly unimportant object to have created such a pit inside of him.

It’s true, isn’t it? he thought at the Stormfather. Storms … we’re not the defenders of our homeland.

We’re the invaders.

Nearby, Taravangian argued softly with his scribes, then finally stood up. He cleared his throat, and the various groups slowly stilled. The Azish contingent had servants pull their chairs back toward the group, and Queen Fen returned to her place, though she didn’t sit. She stood, arms folded, looking perturbed.

“I have had disconcerting news,” Taravangian said. “Over the spanreed, just now. It involves Brightlord Kholin. I don’t wish to be objectionable…”

“No,” Fen said. “I’ve heard it too. I’m going to need an explanation.”

“Agreed,” Noura said.

Dalinar stood up. “I realize this is troubling. I … I haven’t had time to adjust. Perhaps we could adjourn and worry about the storm first? We can discuss this later.”

“Perhaps,” Taravangian said. “Yes, perhaps. But it is a problem. We have believed that ours is a righteous war, but this news of mankind’s origins has me disconcerted.”

“What are you talking about?” Fen said.

“The news from the Veden translators? Ancient texts, manifesting that humans came from another world?”

“Bah,” Fen said. “Dusty books and ideas for philosophers. What I want to know about is this highking business!”

“Highking?” Yanagawn asked through an interpreter.

“I’ve an essay,” Fen said, slapping papers against her hand, “from Zetah the Voiced claiming that before King Elhokar left for Alethkar, he swore to Dalinar to accept him as emperor.”

Noura the vizier leaped to her feet. “What?”

“Emperor is an exaggeration!” Dalinar said, trying to reorient toward this unexpected attack. “It’s an internal Alethi matter.”

Navani stood beside him. “My son was merely concerned about his political relation to Dalinar. We have prepared an explanation for you all, and our highprinces can confirm that we are not looking to expand our influence to your nations.”

“And this?” Noura said, holding up some pages. “Were you preparing an explanation for this as well?”

“What is that?” Dalinar asked, bracing himself.

“Accounts of two visions,” Noura said, “that you didn’t share with us. In which you supposedly met and fraternized with a being known as Odium.”

Behind Dalinar, Lift gasped. He glanced toward her, and the men of Bridge Four, who were muttering among themselves.

This is bad, Dalinar thought. Too much. Too fast for me to control.

Jasnah leaped to her feet. “This is obviously a concentrated attempt to destroy our reputation. Someone deliberately released all this information at the same time.”

“Is it true?” Noura asked in Alethi. “Dalinar Kholin, have you met with our enemy?”

Navani gripped his arm. Jasnah subtly shook her head: Don’t answer that.

“Yes,” Dalinar said.

“Did he,” Noura asked pointedly, “tell you you’d destroy Roshar?”

“What of this ancient record?” Taravangian said. “It claims that the Radiants already destroyed one world. Is that not what caused them to disband? They worried that their powers could not be controlled!”

“I’m still trying to wrap my mind around this highking nonsense,” Fen said. “How is it merely an ‘internal Alethi matter’ if you’ve allowed another king to swear to you?”

Everyone started talking at once. Navani and Jasnah stepped forward, responding to the attacks, but Dalinar only sank into his seat. It was all falling apart. A sword, as keen as any on a battlefield, had been rammed into the heart of his coalition.

This is what you feared, he thought. A world that turns not upon force of armies, but upon the concerns of scribes and bureaucrats.

And in that world, he had just been deftly outflanked.

I am certain there are nine Unmade. There are many legends and names that I could have misinterpreted, conflating two Unmade into one. In the next section, I will discuss my theories on this.

—From Hessi’s Mythica, page 266

Kaladin remembered a woman’s kiss.

Tarah had been special. The darkeyed daughter of an assistant quartermaster, she had grown up helping with her father’s work. Though she was a hundred percent Alethi, she preferred dresses of an old-fashioned Thaylen style, which had an apronlike front with straps over the shoulders and skirts that ended right below the knee. She’d wear a buttoned shirt underneath, often in a bright color—brighter than most darkeyes could afford. Tarah knew how to squeeze the most out of her spheres.

That day, Kaladin had been sitting on a stump, shirt off, sweating. The evening was growing cold as the sun set, and he basked in the last warmth. His spear resting across his lap, he toyed with a rock of white, brown, and black. Alternating colors.

The warmth from the sun was mirrored as someone warm hugged him from behind, wrapping her arms across his chest. Kaladin rested a callused hand on Tarah’s smooth one, drinking in her scent—of starched uniforms, new leather, and other clean things.

“You’re done early,” he said. “I thought there were greenvines to outfit today.”

“I have the new girl doing the rest.”

“I’m surprised. I know how much you like this part.”

“Storms,” she said, slipping around in front of him. “They get so embarrassed when you measure them. ‘Hold on, kid. I’m not making a pass at you because I’m putting a measuring tape up against your chest, I swear.…’ ” She lifted his spear, looking it over with a critical eye, testing the balance. “I wish you’d let me requisition a new one for you.”

“I like that one. Took me forever to find one long enough.”

She peered along the length of the weapon, to make sure it was straight. She would never trust it, as she hadn’t personally requisitioned it for him. She wore green today, under a brown skirt, her black hair tied back in a tail. Slightly plump, with a round face and firm build, Tarah’s beauty was a subtle thing. Like an uncut gemstone. The more you saw of it—the more you discovered of its natural facets—the more you loved it. Until one day it struck you that you’d never known anything as wonderful.

“Any young boys among the greenvines?” Kaladin asked, standing up and pocketing Tien’s stone.

“I didn’t notice.”

He grunted, waving to Gol—one of the other squadleaders. “You know I like to watch for kids who might need a little extra looking out for.”