Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive 4)

“We should get some sleep,” Lirin said to Kaladin.

“The other townspeople—” Kaladin began.

“Laral and I will visit them,” Hesina said, rising. “I got some sleep earlier.”

“But—”

“Son,” Lirin said. “If the Radiants are in comas, that means no Edgedancers—and no Regrowth. You and I need sleep, because we’re going to become very busy men over the next few days. There’s an entire tower full of frightened people, and likely as not a few hotheaded soldiers will take it upon themselves to make trouble despite the queen’s orders. They’re all going to need two rested surgeons.”

Hesina gave her husband a fond touch on the cheek with her safehand, then a kiss. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and gave it to Kaladin as he found himself yet again wiping his brow. Then she left to go visit Laral—who had seen the messenger before them and already knew the situation.

Kaladin reluctantly joined his father and walked down the long hallway past the patient rooms toward the family’s living quarters.

“What if I’m one of those hotheads?” Kaladin asked. “What if I can’t live with this?”

Lirin stopped in the hallway. “I thought we’d discussed this already, son.”

“You think I can ignore the fact that the enemy has conquered my home?” Kaladin said. “You think you can just turn me into a good, well-behaved slave like—”

“Like me?” Lirin asked with a sigh. His eyes flicked up, likely noting the brands on Kaladin’s forehead, mostly covered by his hair. “What would have happened, son, if instead of trying so hard to escape all those years, you’d instead proven yourself to your masters? What if you’d shown them you could heal instead of kill? How much misery would you have saved the world if you’d used your talents instead of your fists?”

“You’re telling me to be a good slave and do what I’m told.”

“I’m telling you to think!” his father snapped. “I’m telling you that if you want to change the world, you have to stop being part of the problem!” Lirin calmed himself with obvious difficulty, making fists and breathing in deeply. “Son, think about what all those years spent fighting did to you. How they broke you.”

Kaladin looked away, not trusting himself to answer.

“Now,” Lirin said, “think about these last few weeks. How good it felt to be helping for once.”

“There is more than one way to help.”

“And your nightmares?” Lirin asked. “The cold sweats? The times where your mind numbs? Was that caused by my kind of help, or your kind? Son, our mandate is to find those who are hurt, then see them cared for. We can do that even if the enemy has conquered us.”

In a way, Kaladin could understand what his father said. “Your words make sense up here,” Kaladin said, tapping his head. “But not down here.” He slapped his breast.

“That’s always been your problem, son. Letting your heart override your head.”

“My head can’t be trusted sometimes,” Kaladin said. “Can you blame me? Besides, isn’t the entire reason we became surgeons because of the heart? Because we care?”

“We need both heart and mind,” Lirin said. “The heart might provide the purpose, but the head provides the method, the path. Passion is nothing without a plan. Wanting something doesn’t make it happen.

“I can acknowledge—have to acknowledge—that you accomplished great things serving Dalinar Kholin. But with the Radiants down and most of the king’s surgeons on the battlefield, we are what stands between the people of this tower and deathspren. You acknowledge that you don’t think right sometimes? Then trust me. Trust my thoughts.”

Kaladin grimaced, but nodded. It was true that his thoughts had proven—time after time—that they couldn’t be trusted. Besides, what did he think he was going to do? Fight a war against the invaders all by himself? After Navani had surrendered?

Before retiring, they checked on the unconscious people in the patient rooms. The Stoneward was completely out cold, less responsive than Teft, though Lirin was able to get her to take soup by spooning it to her lips. Kaladin studied her—checking her eyes, her heart rate, her temperature. Then he moved over to Teft. The bearded Windrunner shifted, his eyes closed, and when Kaladin put broth to his lips he took it far more eagerly. His hands twitched, and though Kaladin couldn’t make out anything he was saying, he kept muttering under his breath.

He’s a Windrunner, of the same oath as me, Kaladin thought. I’m awake when the others fell. Teft is close to being awake. Was there a connection?

Whatever fabrial the enemy was using to do this, perhaps it didn’t work as well on Windrunners. He needed to see the other Radiants and compare them. There had been around two dozen other Windrunners in the tower. His status as a surgeon should let him visit them and check their vitals.

Storms. His father was correct. Kaladin could accomplish far more by backing down than he could by fighting.

Syl came zipping into the room a short time later. Lirin noticed her too, so she’d made herself visible to him.

“Syl,” Kaladin said, “will you check again to see if you can spot Teft’s spren? He seems like he’s coming closer to waking, so she might be becoming more visible.”

“No time,” Syl said, turning into the shape of a young woman with a sword strapped to her waist, wearing a scout’s uniform. She halted in the air, standing as if on an invisible platform. “They’re coming.”

“Another Regal coming to check in on us?” Kaladin said.

“Worse,” Syl said. “A group of soldiers, led by a different Regal, is searching each residence, methodically heading this direction. They’re hunting for something.”

“Or someone,” Kaladin said. “They’ve heard that Stormblessed is awake.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions, son,” Lirin said. “If they were searching for you specifically, they’d have come straight here. I’ll go see what this is about. If they are looking for you, escape out the window and we’ll decide what to do later.”

Kaladin withdrew into the family room, which had doors to their bedrooms—including the small closet where little Oroden was sleeping in his crib. Kaladin didn’t go to his bedroom though. He cracked the door into the hallway, and was able to hear voices when his father opened the door at the far front of the clinic. Unfortunately, he couldn’t hear what they were saying. He nodded to Syl, who risked zipping out to get closer and overhear.

Before she could return, the voices drew nearer. Kaladin made out the Regal by the rhythm of his speech.

“… don’t care if you’re a surgeon, darkeyes,” the soldier said. “I have the queen’s sealed writ here, and its instructions supersede what you might have been told by messengers. All Radiants are to be taken into custody.”

“These are my patients,” Lirin said. “They were entrusted to my care. Please; they’re no danger to you like this.”

“Your queen accepted these terms,” the Regal replied. “Complain to her.”

Kaladin peeked out the door into the hallway. A Regal led five ordinary warform singers. Their larger figures appeared cramped in the stone corridor as they walked to the two patient rooms. So they weren’t after him, not specifically. They were searching for fallen Radiants.