Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,124

than fifty Edgedancers—and just three Truthwatchers. Those are the only orders that can heal.”

Lirin looked up, cocking his head.

“We brought over a dozen with us to save Hearthstone,” Kaladin said, “because Dalinar wanted to be certain our new flying platform didn’t fall to the enemy. Most of the time those Edgedancers are serving on the battlefront, healing soldiers. The few on duty in Urithiru can be used for only the most dire of wounds.

“Plus their powers have limitations. They can’t do anything for old wounds, for example. We have a large clinic in the market staffed by ordinary surgeons, and it’s busy all hours of the day. You’re not obsolete. Trust me, you’re going to be very, very useful here.”

Lirin regarded the room again, seeing it with new eyes. He grinned, then—possibly thinking he shouldn’t take joy in the idea that people would still need surgeons—stood up. “Well then! I suppose I should familiarize myself with this new equipment. Medications that can prevent diseases, you say? What an intriguing concept.”

Kaladin’s mother gave him an embrace, then went into the other room to look over the books. Kaladin finally let himself relax, settling into a chair in the surgery room.

Syl landed on his shoulder and took the form of a young woman in a full havah, with her hair pinned up in the Alethi fashion. She folded her arms and glared up at him expectantly.

“What?” he asked.

“You going to tell them?” she said. “Or do I have to?”

“Now’s not the time.”

“Why not?”

He failed to come up with a good reason. She kept bullying him with her frustratingly insistent spren stare—she didn’t blink unless she pointedly decided to, so he’d never met anyone else who could glare quite like Syl. Once she’d even enlarged her eyes to disturbing proportions to deliver a particularly important point.

Eventually Kaladin stood, causing her to streak off as a ribbon of light. “Father,” he said. “You need to know something.”

Lirin turned from his study of the medications, and Hesina peeked her head into the room, curious.

“I’m going to be leaving the military,” Kaladin said. “I need a break from the fighting, and Dalinar commanded it. So I thought maybe I would take the room beside Oroden’s. I … might need to find something different to do with my life.”

Hesina raised her hand to her lips again. Lirin stopped dead, going pale, as if he’d seen a Voidbringer. Then his face burst with the widest grin Kaladin had ever seen on him. He strode over and seized Kaladin by the arms.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Lirin said. “The surgery room, the supplies, that talk of the clinic. You’ve realized it. You finally understand that I’ve been right. You’re going to become a surgeon like we always dreamed!”

“I…”

That was the answer, of course. The one Kaladin had been purposely avoiding. He’d considered the ardents, he’d considered the generals, and he’d considered running away.

The answer was in the face of his father, a face that a part of Kaladin dreaded. Deep down, Kaladin had known there was only one place he could go once the spear was taken from him.

“Yes,” Kaladin said. “You’re right. You’ve always been right, Father. I guess … it’s time to continue my training.”

The world becomes an increasingly dangerous place, and so I come to the crux of my argument. We cannot afford to keep secrets from one another any longer. The Thaylen artifabrians have private techniques relating to how they remove Stormlight from gems and create fabrials around extremely large stones.

I beg the coalition and the good people of Thaylenah to acknowledge our collective need. I have taken the first step by opening my research to all scholars.

I pray you will see the wisdom in doing the same.

—Lecture on fabrial mechanics presented by Navani Kholin to the coalition of monarchs, Urithiru, Jesevan, 1175

“I’m sorry, Brightness,” Rushu said, holding up several schematics as they walked around the crystalline pillar deep within Urithiru. “Weeks of study, and I can’t find any other matches.”

Navani sighed, pausing beside a particular section of the pillar. Four garnets stood out, the same construction used in the suppression fabrial. The layouts were too precise, too exact, to be a coincidence.

It had seemed like a breakthrough, and she’d set Rushu and the others comparing all other known fabrials to the pillar, searching for any that seemed similar. That once-promising lead, unfortunately, had reached another dead end.

“There’s another problem,” Rushu said.

“Only one?” When the young ardent frowned, Navani waved for her to