Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive 4)

“And the fact that they confirmed the death of the Almighty?”

“The death of Honor,” Godeke said. “One aspect of the Almighty.” He smiled. “It’s all right, Brightlord. I can understand someone questioning now, of all times. Remember though, the church taught that we are all aspects of the Almighty—that He lives in us. As He lived in the being called Honor, who was tasked with protecting men.

“The Almighty cannot die. People can die. Heralds can die. Even Honor could die. But Honor, people, and Heralds will all live again—transformed, Soulcast through His power.” Godeke glanced back at his packhorse, which his spren was riding. Stuffed into the saddlebags and peeking out were several books. “I’m still learning. We all are. The Book of Endless Pages cannot be filled … though your father made a very nice addition to the text.”

“You’re okay with a man writing then?” Adolin said, frowning.

“Your father is not simply a man, Adolin,” Godeke said.

“He—”

“Your father is a holy man. As I was, before taking up this new role.” Godeke shook his head. “All my life I lived with a deformity—and then in an instant I was transformed and healed. I became what I’d always seen myself as being. Your father has undergone a more vibrant transformation. He is as divine as any ardent.

“And … I must admit some of what he says makes sense. How can it be forbidden for a person to see the holy words of the Almighty, solely because that person is male? Makes me wonder whether we’ve misinterpreted all along. Whether we’ve been selfish, wanting to keep all this for ourselves.

“I don’t accept the conclusions your father came to—but I’m glad people are talking about the church rather than merely going about their lives, assuming the ardents will take care of everything. Many people only thought of religion when it was time for one of their Elevations.” He grinned as another group of gloryspren sailed past. “I cannot wait to write of this to the others of my devotary. When they hear what wonders the Almighty has created here…”

Adolin wasn’t certain it all made sense as Godeke explained, but at the same time it was nice to hear someone being so positive. He left Godeke to his excitement, and went to chat with Arshqqam, translated by her spren. She felt much as he had on his first time in Shadesmar. Overwhelmed.

“I used to think my life made sense,” the woman said through the spren. “I used to think I knew how it would end. I didn’t want to leave Tashikk. There my life was hard, but it was clear.”

“Why did you leave, then?”

She studied him with a piercing gaze, unwavering. “How could I stay? I still don’t know why I was chosen. A woman at the end of her life? But if a child could answer the call, then I certainly could find no excuse.”

The child she referenced was Lift—who had recruited this woman, along with several others, over the past year. The teen seemed to have a knack for locating others who were manifesting powers.

“What do you think of her?” Adolin asked. “Lift? She acts strange sometimes, even for a Radiant.”

Arshqqam grimaced, lips drawn to a distasteful line. “She is what I needed, though I knew it not. And I would not have you tell her of my fondness for her, please. She needs a firm hand.”

That was fondness?

“Stump,” Arshqqam said through her spren, seeming wistful. “That is what the children called me. A nickname. The only other person who ever gave me a term of endearment was my father. The children see me as a person, when so many others have trouble. So the Stump I am. A glorious title, to come from children.”

What an odd woman. But there was a calm solidity to her, and Adolin was glad to have her along. Once the conversation fell off, Adolin moved to walk with Shallan. They again went over the plans that Jasnah had drawn up for them. Working with the support of the collected monarchs, she’d left Adolin what seemed like an entire book’s worth of instructions. Fortunately, he felt he could execute them. He might not be able to grasp why the shape of Shadesmar was so fascinating to a mapmaker, but acting as a dignitary and an emissary? He’d been trained for this role since his youth.

The basic plan was to present the honorspren with gifts along with written requests to begin relations. Nothing too pushy. An essay written by Jasnah, another written by Dalinar with Queen Fen’s advisement, and a third from the Azish imperial court. Adolin was to request admittance to the honorspren fortress, stay a few days to get them used to the idea of talking to humans, then leave with a promise that they’d speak more in the future.

Some of the Windrunner spren thought this would be enough, but Syl—in a rare appearance when Kaladin wasn’t around—had come to him the day before.

“I worry that this isn’t going to work, Adolin,” she’d said. “I don’t think they’ll even let you in. They aren’t like honorspren used to be. They’re afraid and they’re angry. I’m glad you want to try, but … be prepared for disappointment. And don’t let them try to blame you for what Radiants did before.”

Ua’pam spotted the ship first. He waved to Adolin, then pointed over the side of the railing toward the rolling beads that were now only a hundred or so feet below. There, docked at the small patch of ground at the base of the pillar, was a flat ship. A barge. The front portion had a small raised deck, from which to steer its flying mandras.

There was no sign of cabins or a hold—far less luxurious than the vessels they’d taken the last time. Of course, he wouldn’t care to repeat much about that particular experience. He’d gladly take a barge if it meant a peaceful voyage instead.

“My cousin,” Ua’pam said, pointing to a figure on the barge waving a light. “Like him!”

“I’ll try.”

“You will!” Ua’pam said.

“Another peakspren?” Adolin asked, squinting.

“Yes!”

“We saw some of those on our last trip,” Adolin said. “They left us stranded at Celebrant.”

“Kasiden peakspren, from the east? They are fools! Forget them.”

“You have … different nationalities?”

“Obviously! Silly man. You will learn.” The creature clapped Adolin on the back with a firm strength. Though his stone hand was warm to the touch, it wasn’t hot like Adolin might have expected from the glowing light coming from the cracks.

They made the last few rotations around the column before—at long last—arriving at sea level. There was a little stone building built up against the pillar underneath the ramp here, though scouts sent into Shadesmar had reported it empty.

Adolin sent two men to search it anyway, then walked forward to meet Ua’pam’s cousin. He was bald, like other peakspren Adolin had met—though they tended to have more cracks on the head than on other parts of the body. He wore a hat not unlike the one Veil favored. He replaced that after bowing to them.

“Welcome, human prince!” he said with an affable voice. “You will present payment!”

Adolin held up a small bag of glowing spheres. “How long do you think it will take to get to the southern bank?”

“Two weeks, perhaps,” he said, waving for Adolin’s men to lead the horses onto the long barge, which was around forty feet wide and a hundred feet long. A few other peakspren worked on board, moving boxes to make room for the newcomers. “Easy sailing lately. Few ships. You will be happy and relaxed!”