Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive 4)

“And the ones watching outside?” Adolin asked. He was allowed to talk during testimonies, though Blended had warned him to be careful. If he was too belligerent, the High Judge could order him gagged. And he had to be careful not to address the audience in a way that invited them to interrogate him.

“We … cannot accept them all in, unfortunately,” Amuna said. “We had not thought to see so many. We have tried to invite in all of the honorspren deadeyes.”

“Are there many?” Adolin asked.

“In total? We have some twenty deadeyed honorspren in the fortress now, though there were some two thousand honorspren alive at the time of your betrayal. A single one survived.”

“Syl,” Adolin said.

“The Ancient Daughter was in a catatonic state,” Amuna said, “and was spared. But every other honorspren—every single one—had answered the call of the Radiants during the False Desolation. Can you understand the magnitude of that tragedy, Highprince Adolin? The murder of an entire species, all in one day? Absolute extermination, performed by the most intimate of friends?

“We often encounter deadeyes wandering aimlessly in the barrens, or standing in the shallows of the ocean. We bring them here, give them Stormlight, care for them the best we can. Frequently, we can do only a little before they are summoned away to your world—where their corpses are used to continue your brutal murders!”

She turned, gesturing toward the two deadeyes on the bench—and though she faced Adolin, her words were obviously for the crowd. They, not the High Judge, were the true adjudicators.

“This is what you’d have us return to?” she demanded. “You say you aren’t the same people who lived so long ago, but do you honestly think you’re any better than them? I’d contend you are worse! You pillage, and murder, and burn. You spare no expense nor effort when given an opportunity to ruin another man’s life. If the ancient Radiants were not trustworthy, then how can you possibly say that you are?”

Murmurs of assent washed through the crowd. They didn’t jeer or call as a human audience might—he’d suffered that during many a dueling bout. Blended had warned him not to say too much by way of defense today, but they seemed to want something from him.

“Every man fails his own ideals,” Adolin said. “You are right. I am not the honorable man I wish that I were. But my father is. Can you deny that the Stormfather himself was willing to take a chance upon a man from this epoch?”

“This is a good point,” Kelek said, leaning forward. “The Stormfather is all we have left of old Tanavast. I would not have thought to find his Bondsmith again, no indeed.”

Amuna spun toward Adolin. “Do you know what would happen, Prince Adolin, if the Stormfather were to be killed?”

Adolin paused, then shook his head.

“A wise answer,” she said. “As no one knows. We were fortunate that no Bondsmiths existed at the time of the Recreance, though how the Sibling knew to end their bond early is a matter of dispute. I can only imagine the catastrophe that awaits us when your father kills his spren.”

“He won’t,” Adolin said. “My father is no common man.”

“Such could be said of all the Radiants in times past,” Amuna said, stepping toward him. “But now, I am the one who cares for the betrayed. I hear their voiceless sorrow; I see their sightless pain. I would have Lasting Integrity pulled down, stone by stone, before I agree to send a single honorspren to suffer a similar fate.”

She bowed to Kelek, then turned and sat between the two deadeyes. They continued to sit, faces forward, motionless.

Adolin ground his teeth and glanced to Shallan for support. At least there was one friendly face out in that crowd. He forced himself to remain standing, hands clasped behind him in the posture his father used when he wanted to appear commanding. He’d worn his best coat. For all it mattered. Storms, he felt exposed here on the floor, surrounded by all the glowing figures. This was worse than when he’d been alone in the dueling arena facing four Shardbearers. At least then he’d had his Blade in hand and Plate on his back.

They waited for Kelek to call the next witness. The High Judge, instead, spent a good twenty minutes writing in his notebook. He was a divine being, like a kind of ardent, if magnified a thousand times. It wasn’t surprising to see him writing. Adolin just hoped the notes he was taking related to the testimony. He half expected that the Herald was solving word puzzles like the ones Jasnah enjoyed.

Eventually, the Herald dug something out of his pocket—fruit it seemed, though it was bright green and it crunched when Kelek took a bite.

“Looks good,” Kelek said. “Nothing too unexpected, though I have to say he does have a good point. An unchained Bondsmith is dangerous, but the Stormfather did choose one anyway.…”

“You know how erratic the Stormfather has been lately,” said an elderly female honorspren at Kelek’s side. “His wisdom is no longer something to trust.”

“Valid, valid,” Kelek said. “Well then, next witness.”

“Next to speak will be Blended,” Sekeir said. “Inkspren emissary to Lasting Integrity.”

What? Adolin thought as his tutor stood up from the crowd and walked to the floor of the arena. The watching honorspren murmured together quietly at the sight.

“Wait,” Adolin said. “What is this?”

“They asked me to witness against you,” she said. “So a spren who is not an honorspren would have a chance to weigh in on this proceeding.”

“But … you’re my tutor. Didn’t you volunteer to train me?”

“I wanted you well-trained,” she said, “so the trial could be as fair as possible. This thing is. But my hatred of what your kind did also is.” She turned to Kelek. “Honored One, I was alive when men betrayed us. Unlike the honorspren, my kind were not so foolish as to assign all as Radiant spren. We lost over half our numbers, but some of us watched from outside.”

She eyed Adolin. “We knew men as they were and are. Untrustworthy. Changeable. Spren find it difficult to break a bond. Some say it is impossible for us. Men, however, barely last a day without betraying some Ideal.

“Why should we beings of innate honor have been surprised when the event happened? It is not the fault of men that they are as fickle as the falling rain. This thing is. They should not be trusted, and the shame of doing so is our fault. Never again should spren and men bond. It is unnatural.”

“Unnatural?” Adolin said. “Spren and skyeels bond to fly. Spren and greatshells bond to grow. Spren and singers bond to create new forms. This is as natural as the changing seasons.”

And thank you, Shallan, he thought, glancing at her, for your interest in all this.

“Humans are not from this land,” Blended said. “You are invaders, and bonds with you are not natural. Be careful what you say—you will encourage us to return to the singers. They betrayed us long ago, but never on the scale of the humans. Perhaps the highspren have the correct idea in joining with the armies of the Fused.”

“You’d side with them?” Adolin said. “Our enemies?”

“Why not?” she said, strolling across the stage. “They are the rightful heirs of this land. They have been pushed to desperation by your kind, but they are no less reasonable or logical. Perhaps your kind would do better to acknowledge their rule.”