Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive 4)

Feelings, feelings, Veil said. Blah blah blah. Shallan, stay on topic, please.

Shallan found her mind spiraling around her past. The things she had done. The things she was still hiding from, wearing this face that she pretended was her own. That she pretended she deserved. Shallan could be happy, but that happiness was built on lies.

Would it not be better to accept what she really was? Become the person she deserved to be? Formless—who had been hiding deep inside these last few days—stirred. She’d thought him forgotten, but he had been waiting. Watching …

“Help,” Shallan whispered.

“Brightness?” Beryl asked.

Radiant stood up straight, no longer lounging. “You are to be commended for your diligence, Beryl. You say that this method of Soulcasting has helped Vathah. Have you shown it to any of the others yet?”

“No, not yet. I—”

“I would like you to approach Ishnah and train her in it. Report to me the results of the experiment.”

“I will!” Beryl said. “Um, you seem different. Did you … become one of the others?”

“I have merely realized I have a great deal yet to do today,” Radiant said. That caused Pattern to hum. “Continue your efforts.”

She moved to leave, then pretended to reconsider and stepped back, speaking softly. “We need to be careful. I saw a gloryspren earlier that appeared odd. I think that Sja-anat, the corrupter of spren, is watching us. Report to me if you see any odd gloryspren, but stay very quiet about this to the others. I do not wish to inspire a panic.”

Beryl nodded.

That’s a little straightforward and blunt, Radiant, Veil said. The goal is to not act suspicious.

I do as I can, Radiant thought. And I am not suited to subterfuge.

Liar, Veil said. Shallan? Kid, you all right?

But Shallan had pulled into a knot within Radiant.

It was the conversation that set her off … Veil said. Something about it. About leaving your old life, and finding a new one?

Shallan whimpered.

I see … Veil said, retreating as well.

Great. She’d lost both of them. Well, Radiant’s job was to see that things got done. She walked after Vathah; Pattern stayed behind with Beryl, watching her work.

Vathah was carrying a large pole that was at least thirty feet long. What was he up to? Regardless, in Radiant’s estimation, Vathah was suspicious in an entirely different way from the other two. Vathah had always been the most dark of the former deserters. And she understood why. Following something, believing in something, then abandoning it? Leaving your companions-in-arms? It was a horrifying thought.

She usually let the others deal with him. A lot of the other deserters she’d come to understand. Gaz had run from gambling debts, and Isom from a cruel captain in Sadeas’s army who constantly beat him.

But Vathah … his true past was still a mystery. He was cruel and possibly corrupt; he had returned with Shallan only because the circumstances had been right. Shallan liked to think she’d changed the deserters—shown them the nobler side of their personalities.

While she might be correct about the others, Radiant wasn’t certain about Vathah. If he had deserted once, he was capable of it again. And storms, he didn’t look at all like he belonged with the rest of the Court. Even cleaned up and wearing work clothing, Vathah looked rough. Like he’d recently gotten out of bed—after collapsing into it drunk. He was never properly shaved, but also never ended up with a full beard.

Vathah climbed the few steps up to the prow of the barge, the section where the mandras were harnessed. Radiant marched up after him. A female peakspren sailor instructed Vathah to heft the long pole so that the tip went high in the air and the bottom end slipped through a ring at the front of the barge. Once he’d done so, Vathah began lowering the pole slowly, hand over hand. The butt of the pole passed between the mandra harness lines to hit the beads beneath.

They’re measuring depth, Radiant thought. He’s doing sailor jobs, like yesterday. Strange.

“Hold it steady,” the peakspren said to Vathah. “Brace it against the prow of the barge. Yes. Keep going.”

Vathah continued lowering the pole. The current of the beads below was clearly stronger than a current of water would be, and it pressed the pole backward. The rings on the front of the ship were there to keep the force of the beads from pulling the pole out of his hands.

“Keep going,” the peakspren said. “Slower though!”

Vathah grunted, continuing to lower the depth gauge. “They use weighted strings in my world.”

“Wouldn’t work here.”

“I just bumped something,” he said. “Yeah, that’s the bottom. Huh. Not as far down as I thought it would be.”

“We’ve entered the shallows,” the peakspren said, helping him raise the pole. “Skirting to the west of the great trench we call the Radiant Depths.”

Vathah got the pole up and walked to stow it along the railing. Then the spren tossed him a brush. Vathah nodded and walked toward the water station. The metal device fed on Stormlight to somehow make water.

“What is this task?” Radiant asked, following after him.

“Deck needs to be scrubbed,” he said. “They don’t wash them here as often as they do on ships back home—guess they don’t need to, without ocean water spilling up on everything. Planks don’t need tar to keep them waterproof either.”

“You were a sailor?” Radiant asked, surprised.

“I’ve done a lot of jobs.” He filled up a bucket, then picked a section of the deck and went to work, kneeling and scrubbing at the wood.

“I’m impressed,” Radiant said. “I had not thought you would be one to volunteer for work, Vathah.”

“It needs to be done.”

“It is good to work the body, but I find myself objecting to that statement. The peakspren seem to have continued for a while without the deck being washed.” She folded her arms, then shrugged and moved to get a brush herself.

As she returned, Vathah glanced at her with a dark expression. “Did you simply come to taunt me, Radiant? Or is there a point?”

“I suppose it’s easy to tell me apart from the others, isn’t it?”

“Veil would never have decided to help,” he said, continuing to brush. “She’d have mocked me for doing extra work. Shallan would be off somewhere drawing or reading. So, here we are.”

“Indeed,” Radiant said, kneeling and scrubbing alongside him. “You are an observant man, Vathah.”

“Observant enough to know you want something from me. What is it?”

“I’m merely curious,” she said. “The Vathah I know would have avoided work and found a place to relax.”

“Relaxing isn’t relaxing,” he said. “Sit around too much, and you start sitting around even more.” He kept brushing. “Go across the planks, rather than up and down them, so you don’t wear grooves. Yeah, like that. This does need to be done. The sailors used to scrub the wood every month, but they haven’t had as much help lately. Something about Reachers not being around? What are Reachers, anyway?”

“They’re a specific bronze-skinned kind of spren,” Radiant said. “They were sailors on our previous voyage.”