Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive 4)

* * *

Together, Navani and the Sibling could create Light.

Light that drove the monster Moash back along the corridor, holding his arm before his eyes. Light that drove the knife from Navani’s side as it healed her wound. Light that brought fabrials to life, Light that sang with the tones of Honor and Cultivation in tandem.

But her spren … The Sibling was so weak.

Navani grasped the pillar, pouring her power into it, but there was so much chaos muddying the system, like crem in a cistern of pure water. The Voidlight Raboniel had injected.

Navani couldn’t destroy it, but maybe she could vent it somehow. She saw the tower now as an entity, with lines of garnet very like veins and arteries. And she inhabited that entity. It became her body. She saw thousands of closed doors the scouts had missed in mapping the tower. She saw brilliant mechanisms for controlling pressure, heat—

No, stay focused.

I think we need to vent the Voidlight, Navani said to the Sibling.

I … the Sibling said. How?

I can sing the proper tone, Navani said. We fill the system with as much Towerlight as will fit, then we stop and vibrate these systems here, here, and here with the anti-Voidlight tone.

I suppose, the Sibling said. But how can we create the vibration?

There’s a plate on Raboniel’s desk. I’ll have my scholars play that. I’ll need a model to sing it, but with that, I should be able to transfer the vibration through the system. That should force the enemy’s corruption out through these broken gemstones in the pump mechanism. What do you think?

… Yes? the Sibling said softly. I think … yes, that might work.

With that done, we will need to restart the tower’s protections, Navani said. These are complex fabrials … made of the essence of spren. Of your essence?

Yes, the Sibling said, their voice growing stronger. But they are complicated, and took many years of—

Pressure fabrial here, Navani said, inspecting it with her mind. Ah, I see. A network of attractors to bring in air and create a bubble of pressure. Quite ingenious.

Yes!

And the heating fabrials … not important now … but you’ve made housings for them out of metals—you manifested physically as metal and crystal, like Shardblades manifest from smaller spren.

YES!

As she began working, Navani noticed an oddity. What was that moving through the tower? Highmarshal Kaladin? Flying quickly, his powers restored, wrapped in spren as armor. He had achieved his Fourth Ideal.

And he was going the wrong direction.

She could easily see his mistake. He’d decided the best way to protect the tower was to come here, to the pillar, and rescue Navani. But no, he was needed elsewhere.

She drew his attention with flashing lights on the wall.

Sibling? Kaladin’s voice soon sounded through the system as he touched the crystal vein.

Yes and no, Highmarshal, Navani said. The pillar is secure. Get to the Breakaway market. Tell the enemies you find there that they’d best retreat quickly.

He obeyed immediately, changing the direction of his flight.

Navani, full of incredible awareness, got to work.

* * *

Dalinar persuaded the Windrunners to linger in the sky above Ishar’s camp, rather than flying immediately back to the Emuli warcamp.

He worried about them though. The Radiants drooped like soldiers who had completed a full-day, double-time march. Ordinarily Stormlight would have perked them up, but they complained of headaches their powers couldn’t heal.

The effects shouldn’t be permanent, the Stormfather said. But I cannot say for certain. Ishar Connected them to the ground. Essentially, their powers saw the stones as part of their body—and so tried to fill the ground with Stormlight as it fills their veins.

I can barely make sense of what you said, Dalinar replied, hanging in the sky far above Ishar’s camp. How are such things possible?

The powers of a Bondsmith are the powers of creation, the Stormfather said. The powers of gods, including the ability to link souls. Always before, Honor was here to guard this power, to limit it. It seems that Ishar knows how to make full use of his new freedom.

The Stormfather paused, then rumbled more softly. I never liked him. Though I was only a wind then—and not completely conscious—I remember him. Ishar was ambitious even before madness took him. He cannot bear sole blame for the destruction of Ashyn, humankind’s first home, but he was the one Odium first tricked into experimenting with the Surges.

You don’t particularly like anyone, Dalinar noted.

Not true. There was a human who made me laugh once, long ago. I was somewhat fond of him.

It felt like a rare attempt at levity. Dared Dalinar hope it was progress in the ancient spren?

Below, Ishar’s large pavilion waited, flapping in the gentle wind. Dalinar had seen no sign of servants or soldiers peeking out.

“Sir?” Sigzil said, floating over to Dalinar. “My troops need to rest.”

“A few minutes longer,” Dalinar said, narrowing his eyes.

“What are we waiting for, sir?”

“To see if Ishar returns. He fled to Shadesmar. He could return at any moment. If he does, we’re leaving at speed. But if he doesn’t…” Ishar hadn’t been expecting to run. Szeth, and that strange Blade, had driven him away. “This could be a rare opportunity, Companylord. He was a scholar among Heralds; he might have written notes that give hints to applications of Bondsmith powers.”

“Understood, sir,” Sigzil said.

Dalinar glanced toward Szeth, who floated on his own away from the others, Lashed into the sky by his own power. Dalinar nodded toward him, and Sigzil—catching the meaning—gave Dalinar a brief Lashing that sent him over beside the assassin.

Szeth was muttering to himself. “How did he know? How did the old fool know?”

“Know what?” Dalinar said as he drifted near Szeth. “Ishar? How did he know about your people?”

Szeth blinked, then focused on Dalinar. It was odd to see him looking like himself with that too-pale skin and those wide eyes. Dalinar had grown accustomed to his Alethi illusions.

“I must begin preparing myself,” Szeth said. “My next Ideal is my quest, my pilgrimage. I must return to my people, Blackthorn. I must face them.”

“As you wish,” Dalinar said. He wasn’t certain he wanted to unleash this man upon anyone, least of all the one neutral kingdom of note in this conflict. But Jasnah had indicated it would happen, and besides, he doubted he could stop Szeth from doing anything he truly wanted to. “Your people. They have all of the Honorblades?”

“All but three,” Szeth said. “The Blade of the Windrunners was mine for years. The Blade of the Skybreakers was reclaimed by Nin long ago. And of course the Blade of the Stonewards was never ours to protect. So there were seven, but if Ishar has his Blade…”

You don’t need those other swords, a perky voice said in Dalinar’s mind. I am as good as ten swords. Did you see how great I was?

“I saw,” Dalinar said to the sword. “You … chipped a Shardblade. An Honorblade.”

I did? Wow. I am a great sword. We destroyed a lot of evil, right?

“You promised not to speak into the minds of others, sword-nimi,” Szeth said softly. “Do you not remember?”