Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive 4) - Page 225


“The other families would never follow us,” Klade said. “They already resent how the humans paid more attention to us.”

“I find the idea of a king distasteful,” added Husal, to Anxiety. “We should not follow them in this.”

Eshonai hummed to Pleading, indicating she wished to speak again. “Elders,” she said, “I think I should visit the other families and show them my maps.”

“What would that accomplish?” Venli asked to Skepticism.

“If I show them how much there is to the world, they will understand that we are smaller as a people than we thought. They will want to unite.”

Venli hummed to Amusement. “You think they’d simply join with us? Because they saw maps? Eshonai, you are a delight.”

“We will consider your proposal,” Gangnah said, then hummed to Appreciation—as a dismissal.

Eshonai retreated out into the sunlight as the elders asked Venli additional questions about creating gemstones with trapped spren. Eshonai attuned Annoyance. Then, by force, she changed her rhythm to Peace instead. She always felt anxious after an extended trip. She wasn’t annoyed with her sister, just the general situation.

She let herself rove outward to the cracked wall that surrounded the city. She liked this place; it was old, and old things seemed … thoughtful to her. She walked along the base of the once-wall, passing listeners tending chulls, carrying in grain from the fields, hauling water. Many raised a hand or called to a rhythm when they saw her. She was famous now, unfortunately. She had to stop and chat with several listeners who wanted to ask about her expedition.

She suffered the attention with patience. Eshonai had spent years trying to inspire this kind of interest about the outside world. She wouldn’t throw away this goodwill now.

She managed to extract herself, and climbed up a watchpost along the wall. From it, she could see listeners from other families moving about on the Plains, or driving their hogs past the perimeter of the city.

There are more of them about than usual, she thought. One of the other families might be preparing an assault on the city. Would they be so bold? So soon after the humans had come and changed the world?

Yes, they would be. Eshonai’s own family had been that bold, after all. The others might assume Eshonai’s people were getting secrets, or special trade goods, from the humans. They would want to put themselves into a position to receive the humans’ blessings instead.

Eshonai needed to go to them and explain. Why fight, when there was so much more out there to experience? Why squabble over these old, broken-down cities? They could be building new ones as the humans did. She attuned Determination.

Then she attuned right back to Anxiety as she saw a figure walking distractedly along the base of the wall. Eshonai’s mother wore a loose brown robe, dull against the femalen’s gorgeous red and black skin patterns.

Eshonai climbed down and ran over. “Mother?”

“Ah,” her mother said to Anxiety. “I know you. Can you perhaps help me? I seem to find myself in an odd situation.”

Eshonai took her mother by the arm. “Mother.”

“Yes. Yes, I’m your mother. You are Eshonai.” The femalen looked around, then she leaned in. “Can you tell me how I arrived here, Eshonai? I don’t seem to remember.”

“You were going to wait for me to get home,” Eshonai said. “With food.”

“I was? Why didn’t I do that, then?”

“You must have lost track of time,” Eshonai said, to Consolation. “Let’s get you home.”

Jaxlim hummed to Determination and refused to be budged, seeming to become more conscious, more herself by the second. “Eshonai,” she said, “we have to confront this. This is not simply me feeling tired. This is something worse.”

“Maybe not, Mother,” Eshonai said. “Maybe it…”

Her mother hummed to the Rhythm of the Lost. Eshonai trailed off.

“I must make certain your sister knows the songs,” Jaxlim said. “We may have reached the riddens of my life, Eshonai.”

“Please, come and rest,” Eshonai said to Peace.

“Rest is for those with time to spare, dear,” her mother said, but let herself be led in the direction of their home. She pulled her robe tight. “I can face this. Our ancestors took weakness upon themselves to bring our people into existence. They faced frailty of body and mind. I can face this with grace. I must.”

Eshonai settled her at home with something to eat. Then, Eshonai considered getting out her new maps to show her mother, but hesitated. Jaxlim never did like hearing about Eshonai’s travels. It was best not to upset her.

Why did it have to happen like this? Eshonai finally got what she wanted out of life. But progress, change, couldn’t happen without the passing of storms and the movement of years. Each day forward meant another day of regression for her mother.

Time. It was a sadistic master. It made adults of children—then gleefully, relentlessly, stole away everything it had given.

They were still eating when Venli returned. She always had a hidden smile these days, as if attuning Amusement in secret. She set her gemstone—the one with the spren—on the table.

“They’re going to try it,” Venli said. “They are taking volunteers now. I’m to provide a handful of these gemstones.”

“How did you learn to cut them as humans do?” Eshonai asked.

“It wasn’t hard,” Venli said. “It merely took a little practice.”

Their mother stared at the gemstone. She wiped her hands with a cloth, then picked it up. “Venli. I need you to return to practice. I don’t know how much longer I will be suited to being our keeper of songs.”

“Because your mind is giving out,” Venli said. “Mother, why do you think I’ve been working so hard to find these new forms? This can help.”

Eshonai attuned Surprise, glancing at their mother.

“Help?” Jaxlim said.

“Each form has a different way of thinking,” Venli said. “That is preserved in the songs. And some were stronger, more resilient to diseases, both physical and mental. So if you were to change to this new form…”

Her mother attuned Consideration.

“I … hadn’t realized this,” Eshonai said. “Mother, you must volunteer! This could be our answer!”

“I’ve been trying to get the elders to see,” Venli said. “They want young listeners to try the change first.”

“They will listen to me,” Jaxlim said to Determination. “It is, after all, my job to speak for them to hear. I will try this form, Venli. And if you have truly accomplished this goal of yours … well, I once thought that being our new keeper of songs would be your highest calling. I hadn’t considered that you might invent a calling with even more honor. Keeper of forms.”

Eshonai settled back, listening to her sister humming to Joy. Only … the beat was off somehow. Faster. More violent?

You’re imagining things, she told herself. Don’t let jealousy consume you, Eshonai. It could easily destroy your family.



I am told that it is not the sand itself, but something that grows upon it, that exhibits the strange properties. One can make more, with proper materials and a seed of the original.

Tags: Brandon Sanderson The Stormlight Archive Fantasy
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