The Burning White (Lightbringer #5) - Brent Weeks Page 0,449

There’d been a statue of a man like this at the beginning of the pilgrimage. Or . . . no. Not a man like this. This man.

Not this man, this immortal.

“Oh, hey, I’ve seen you before,” Dazen said. “It’s an enormous pleasure to get to meet you in person! I saw your statue. You must be really special!” Being overly friendly was sometimes the best way to irritate the surly.

The immortal grunted.

“This your island?” Dazen asked, relentlessly chipper.

The immortal grunted again. Maybe a no.

“Dazen Guile. Nice ta meetcha!”

The immortal glowered at him. “I know who you are.”

“You’re an immortal, huh? How’s that work? What do you do?”

The immortal looked over to Orholam. “My lord? Permission to abandon ship?”

“Denied,” Orholam said happily.

“This is about my failure with V, isn’t it?”

Vee? Dazen felt like a child among adults talking over his head.

“Not a failure, not yet,” Orholam said. “And this is no punishment.”

“Please don’t say it’s a reward”—the immortal cleared his throat and added quickly—“my most gracious lord. I beg you.”

Orholam said nothing.

“So it is a reward,” the immortal grumped. “And since you said ‘Not yet,’ you’re sending me back to her.”

“If it’s possible,” Orholam said.

“What would keep me from going back to—oh.” The immortal got quiet, then squared his shoulders. “So we’re heading into one of those kinds of fights,” he said.

Great. We’re going into a battle that gives the immortals pause?

“There’s victuals and a wineskin in the pack, and blankets,” the immortal told Dazen, nudging it with his foot, but not moving from the wheel. “Eat. Sleep.”

After devouring the best food of his life, Dazen did.

He woke to a hand on his shoulder.

“You’ll want to see this,” Orholam said.

The sun was beginning to lighten the sky. Dazen felt a hundred times better.

Orholam pointed over the edge of the condor.

They had to be hundreds of paces in the air. Dazen felt a brief moment of vertigo, then saw them—streaks in the water. “Are those . . . sea demons?” he asked. “What are they doing here? I thought there were only eight left.”

“Seven of the eight accepted Orholam’s mercy last week,” the truculent immortal said, though Dazen hadn’t been asking him.

“Last week?” Dazen asked. “But I only asked the boon for them yesterday. That was yesterday, right?”

“It was,” Orholam said with a twinkle in his eye. “But I knew you’d ask.”

“But what if I hadn’t?” Dazen asked.

“That’s Karris Atiriel at their head. Unable to reverse Lucidonius’s soul-casting and bring him back home, after her years as Prism, in order to join her husband, she became a sea demon herself.”

“I thought she established the Blackguard,” Dazen said. “Wasn’t half their purpose—”

“Her intention was that no one would ever again do what Lucidonius had done, even as she planned how to copy him herself. Instead, her success proved to others that drafters less gifted than Lucidonius might also succeed. Now, after all these centuries, she’s ready. She’s finally chosen to abandon her husband to the self-destruction that he loves more than he loves her or anything.”

Dazen absorbed that for a few moments, then asked, “But what are they doing here? This doesn’t look like release. They’re still sea demons.”

“They serve, Dazen. Broken as they are. In gratitude to you, they asked that before they die, they might use what they’ve become for the good of the people they loved, and for you.”

Dazen was about to find that very touching, when he saw something atop the sea demon. A platform? “What’s that on her head?” He squinted against the distance, but he lost it.

Orholam was grinning. “That? You’re gonna love it. Do you want to know the last part of your penance, Promachos?”

There’s more? No, I do not want to know about any more penance! “Yes, please?” he said.

“There is no last part of your penance, but you will have opportunities to show that you’ve changed.”

“That sounds a lot like penance.”

“I know. Just like this next part could look a lot like a leap of faith, but it really isn’t.”

“What are you talking about? A leap? We are going to land together, right? I can suggest some really—”

“Not together, and we’re not landing. This is your part. I’m not getting out of the machina,” Orholam said. “Now, remember, the sea giants despise the bane, but they’re susceptible to their influence. In particular, Karris Atiriel is highly sensitive to the orange bane, even still. Do your best to destroy it before she arrives, would you?”

“Sure, but I still don’ t—”

“Good. Kip will really appreciate it.