Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive 4)

“Teft and I used to think,” Phendorana said, “that the group who visited Teft’s hometown—the Envisagers, they called themselves—were servants of some important lighteyes in Kholinar. Maybe they overheard what people like Amaram were planning, and ran with it. Only…”

“… Only that was forty-five years ago,” Teft said. “And when I asked Brightness Shallan about the group Amaram was part of, everything she’d found indicated they’d started less than ten years ago. But that’s beside the point. I mean, I only met the leaders once, when my parents brought me to the initiation ceremony.”

He shivered, remembering. The blasphemous things they’d chanted—shrouded in dark robes, with spheres affixed to masks to represent glowing eyes—had terrified the boy he’d been. But that hadn’t been the worst. The worst had been what they’d done to try to become Radiants. The things they’d pushed their members to do. His mother had been one of those.…

“It turned dark,” Teft said. “The things my people—my family—did … Well, I was around eight when I went to the citylord. I told him, thinking he’d run the worst of the troublemakers out of town. I didn’t realize…”

“What nahn was your family?” Kaladin asked.

“Sixth,” Teft said. “Should have been high enough to avoid execution. My mother was already dead by then, and my father…” He glanced up at the rest of them, and felt their sympathy. Well, he didn’t want any storming sympathy. “Don’t look at me like that. It was a long time ago, like I said. I eventually joined the military to get away from that town.

“It haunted me for a long time. But ultimately, you know what? You know Kelek’s own storming truth? Because of what my parents did and taught me, I was able to save you, Kal. They won in the end. They were right in the end.” He picked up his soup and forced himself to begin eating it. “We can’t storming see the future, like Renarin can. We’ve gotta do what we think is best, and be fine with that. It’s all a man can do.”

“You think we should keep fighting?” Rlain said.

“I think,” Teft said, “that we need to rescue those Radiants. Maybe we don’t need to fight, but we’ve got to get them out. I don’t like the smell of what you’ve been telling me. Lined up like that, watched over? The enemy is planning something for our friends.”

“I can wake them,” Lift said. “But they ain’t gonna be in fightin’ shape. And I’ll need a whole bunch of food. Like … an entire chull’s worth.”

“If we can wake them,” Rlain said, “we don’t need to fight. We can have them run. Escape.”

“How?” Kaladin asked. “We can’t possibly hope to get all the way to the Oathgates.”

“There’s a window,” Rlain said. “In the infirmary room. We can break it maybe, and escape out that way.”

“To fall hundreds of feet,” Kaladin said.

“That might take the Windrunners out of the influence of the tower,” Teft said with a grunt. He thought about dropping hundreds of feet, not knowing if his powers would reactivate before he hit bottom. “I’d try it, and prove it can be done. The rest of you could watch and see if I fly up in the distance. If I do, you could follow.”

Kaladin rubbed his forehead. “Assuming we could break the glass. Assuming we could get enough Stormlight to infuse the Windrunners. Assuming they’re strong enough, after being incapacitated for so long, to try something that insane. Look, I like that we’re exploring ideas … but we need to take time to consider all our options.”

Teft nodded. “You’re the officer. I leave the decision to you.”

“I’m not an officer any longer, Teft,” Kaladin said.

Teft let the objection slide, though it was completely wrong. One thing a good sergeant knew was when to let the officer be wrong. And Kaladin was an officer. He’d acted like one even when he’d been a slave. Like he’d been raised by a bunch of lighteyes or something. His official status or rank couldn’t change what he was.

“For now,” Kaladin said, “we wait. If we have to, we will break in and rescue the Radiants. But first we need to recover, we need to plan, and we need to find a way to contact the queen. I’d like her input.”

“I might be able to get in to see her,” Rlain said. “They have servants cart food and water to her and her scholars. Venli’s people are often assigned that detail, and I could hide my tattoo and substitute for one of them.”

“Good,” Kaladin said. “That would be great. And while we wait, we don’t do anything too rash. Agreed?”

The others nodded, even Lift and Dabbid. Teft too, though this wasn’t the sort of situation where you had luxuries like time to come up with the perfect plan. Teft determined he’d just have to be ready to act. Take that next storming step. You couldn’t change the past, only the future.

He ate his soup as the conversation turned to lighter topics, and found himself smiling. Smiling because they were still together. Smiling because he’d made the right decision to stay in the tower when Kal needed him. Smiling because he had survived so long without moss or drink, and was able to wake up and see color to the world.

Smiling because, for how bad everything could be, some things were still good.

He shifted as Phendorana poked him. He looked over and caught her grinning as well.

“Fine,” he muttered. “You were storming right. You have always been right.”

Teft was worth saving.

The bond is what keeps us alive. You sever that, and we will slowly decompose into ordinary souls—with no valid Connection to the Physical or Spiritual Realms. Capture one of us with your knives, and you won’t be left with a spren in a jar, foolish ones. You’ll be left with a being that eventually fades away into the Beyond.

Venli stood dutifully beside Raboniel, acting as her Voice as daily reports were delivered. Mostly Venli was here to interpret. While Raboniel had learned Alethi quite well—she claimed to have always been talented at languages—many of their current group of Regals spoke Azish, having been parshmen in that region.

Today Raboniel took the reports while sitting on a throne at the mouth of the hallway with the murals. This meant they were at the bottom of the stairwell leading upward to the ground floor. Venli couldn’t help but be reminded of the humans who had died in the last hopeless push to reach the crystal pillar. Those memories were laced with the scents of burning flesh and the sounds of bodies hitting the ground.

Venli glanced at the freshly built portion of steps, hastily constructed with scaffolding underneath to replace the part broken during the fighting. Then she attuned Indifference—a rhythm of Odium. She had to be certain those rhythms continued to punctuate her words, though lately they made her mouth feel coated in oil.

“The Lady of Wishes hears your report,” Venli said to the current Regal, who stood bowed before them. “And commends you on your Passion for the search—but you are wrong, she says. The Windrunner is alive. You are to redouble your efforts.”

The Regal—wearing a sleek form known as relayform, often worn by scouts—bowed lower. Then she retreated up the steps.