Oathbringer (The Stormlight Archive 3) - Page 136


“Yeah.” Shallan sighed. “Any tips?”

Jasnah eyed her.

“You heard what she said to Renarin, Brightness!”

“And Mother was about to speak to her about it,” Jasnah said, “discreetly, with a judicious word. Instead, you threw a dictionary at her head.”

“Sorry. She gets on my nerves.”

“Janala is a fool, just bright enough to be proud of the wits she has, but stupid enough to be unaware of how outmatched they are.” Jasnah rubbed her temples. “Storms. This is why I never take wards.”

“Because they give you so much trouble.”

“Because I’m bad at it. I have scientific evidence of that fact, and you are but the latest experiment.” Jasnah shooed her away, rubbing her temples.

Shallan, feeling ashamed, walked to the side of the room, while everyone else got refreshments.

“Mmmm!” Pattern said as Shallan leaned against the wall, notebook held closer to her chest. “Jasnah doesn’t seem angry. Why are you sad?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” Shallan said. “And a fool. And … because I don’t know what I want.” Hadn’t it been only a week or two ago that she’d innocently assumed she had it figured out? Whatever “it” was?

“I can see him!” said a voice to her side.

Shallan jumped and turned to find Renarin staring at her skirt and the pattern there, which blended into her embroidery. Distinct if you knew to look, but easy to miss.

“He doesn’t turn invisible?” Renarin said.

“He says he can’t.”

Renarin nodded, then looked up at her. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Defending my honor. When Adolin does that, someone usually gets stabbed. Your way was pleasanter.”

“Well, nobody should take that tone with you. They wouldn’t dare do it to Adolin. And besides, you’re right. This place is one big fabrial.”

“You feel it too? They keep talking about this device or that device, but that’s wrong, isn’t it? That’s like taking the parts of a cart, without realizing you’ve got a cart in the first place.”

Shallan leaned in. “That thing that we fought, Renarin. It could stretch its tendrils all the way up to the very top of Urithiru. I felt its wrongness wherever I went. That gemstone at the center is tied to everything.”

“Yes, this isn’t only a collection of fabrials. It’s many fabrials put together to make one big fabrial.”

“But what does it do?” Shallan asked.

“It does being a city.” He frowned. “Well, I mean, it bees a city.… It does what the city is.…”

Shallan shivered. “And the Unmade was running it.”

“Which let us discover this room and the fabrial column,” Renarin said. “We might not have accomplished that without it. Always look on the bright side.”

“Logically,” Shallan said, “the bright side is the only side you can look on, because the other side is dark.”

Renarin laughed. It brought to mind how her brothers would laugh at what she said. Maybe not because it was the most hilarious thing ever spoken, but because it was good to laugh. That reminded her of what Jasnah had said, though, and Shallan found herself glancing at the woman.

“I know my cousin is intimidating,” Renarin whispered to her. “But you’re a Radiant too, Shallan. Don’t forget that. We could stand up to her if we wanted to.”

“Do we want to?”

Renarin grimaced. “Probably not. So often, she’s right, and you just end up feeling like one of the ten fools.”

“True, but … I don’t know if I can stand being ordered around like a child again. I’m starting to feel crazy. What do I do?”

Renarin shrugged. “I’ve found the best way to avoid doing what Jasnah says is to not be around when she’s looking for someone to give orders to.”

Shallan perked up. That made a lot of sense. Dalinar would need his Radiants to go do things, right? She needed to get away, just until she could figure things out. Go somewhere … like on that mission to Kholinar? Wouldn’t they need someone who could sneak into the palace and activate the device?

“Renarin,” she said, “you’re a genius.”

He blushed, but smiled.

Navani called the meeting together again, and they sat to continue discussing fabrials. Jasnah tapped Shallan’s notebook and she did a better job of taking the minutes, practicing her shorthand. It wasn’t nearly as irksome now, as she had an exit strategy. An escape route.

She was appreciating that when she noticed a tall figure striding through the door. Dalinar Kholin cast a shadow, even when he wasn’t standing in front of the light. Everyone immediately hushed.

“Apologies for my tardiness.” He glanced at his wrist, and the forearm timepiece that Navani had given him. “Please don’t stop because of me.”

“Dalinar?” Navani asked. “You’ve never attended a meeting of scribes before.”

“I just thought I should watch,” Dalinar said. “Learn what this piece of my organization is doing.” He settled down on a stool outside the ring. He looked like a warhorse trying to perch on a stand meant for a show pony.

They started up again, everyone obviously self-conscious. She’d have thought that Dalinar would know to stay away from meetings like this, where women and scribes …

Shallan cocked her head as she saw Renarin glance at his father. Dalinar responded with a raised fist.

He came so Renarin wouldn’t feel awkward, Shallan realized. It can’t be improper or feminine for the prince to be here if the storming Blackthorn decides to attend.

She didn’t miss the way that Renarin actually raised his eyes to watch the rest of the proceedings.



As the waves of the sea must continue to surge, so must our will continue resolute.

Alone.

The Voidbringers carried Moash to Revolar, a city in central Alethkar. Once there, they dropped him outside the city and shoved him toward a group of lesser parshmen.

His arms ached from being carried. Why hadn’t they used their powers to Lash him upward and make him lighter, as Kaladin would have?

He stretched his arms, looking around. He’d been to Revolar many times, working a regular caravan to Kholinar. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean he’d seen much of the city. Every city of size had a little huddle of buildings on the outskirts for people like him: modern-day nomads who worked caravans or ran deliveries. The people of the eaves, some had called them. Men and women who hovered close enough to civilization to get out of the weather when it turned bad, but who never really belonged.

From the looks of things, Revolar had quite the eaves culture now—too much of one. The Voidbringers seemed to have taken over the entire storming place, exiling the humans to the outskirts.

The Voidbringers left him without a word, despite having lugged him all this distance. The parshmen who took custody of him here looked like a hybrid between Parshendi warriors and the normal, docile parshmen he’d known from many a caravan run. They spoke perfect Alethi as they shoved him toward a group of humans in a little pen.

Moash settled in to wait. Looked like the Voidbringers had patrols scouting the area, grabbing human stragglers. Eventually, the parshmen herded him and the others toward one of the large storm bunkers outside the city—used for housing armies or multiple caravans during highstorms.

Tags: Brandon Sanderson The Stormlight Archive Fantasy
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