Six months. That’s something. Can’t stand the battle though, not any longer. It’s gotten inside me, see. Itches at my brain.”
Kaladin burst into the waiting room to find Teft chatting with his mother. The older man was out of uniform, wearing common trousers and shirt, his grey beard trimmed. Not as short as an ardent’s beard, but not distinctively long either. There was no sign of his spren, Phendorana, though she generally preferred to hide from sight.
“Teft?” Kaladin said. “You were mobilized. Why aren’t you with everyone else?”
“Can’t go,” Teft said. “Too much wrong with my brain. Went and spoke to the Blackthorn, and he said it would be a good idea for me to step down.”
“You … Teft, you’re doing better. You have no reason to step down from duty.”
Teft shrugged. “Felt like it was time. Got a bit of a cough too. And an ache in my knee, even when there aren’t storms. War’s for young kids, not old dried-up pieces of bark.”
Hesina cocked her head, seeming confused—but Syl landed on Kaladin’s shoulder and gasped at seeing Teft, then clapped excitedly.
“Rock is gone,” Teft said, “and Moash … Moash is worse than gone. Sigzil needs to lead the rest of them, without me being baggage to bother him. You and I were the start of this though. Figure we ought to stick together.”
“Teft,” Kaladin said softer, stepping forward. “You can’t follow me here.”
Teft lifted his chin, defiant.
“I order you to go back to duty,” Kaladin said.
“Oh? Orders? You ain’t got knots on your shoulder now, lad. You can’t order me to do anything.” He sat down in a waiting room chair, folding his arms. “I feel sick. Not right in the head. Nobody can argue that ain’t so.”
Kaladin looked to his mother, feeling helpless.
She shrugged. “You shouldn’t force someone into war, Kaladin. Not unless you want to be like Amaram.”
“You’re taking Teft’s side?” Kaladin asked.
“Lad,” Teft said softly, “you ain’t the only one with a mind full of horrors. You ain’t the only one whose hands shake now and then, thinking of it all. I need a rest too. That’s Kelek’s own truth.”
He was exaggerating. Kaladin knew he was. The man—while prone to addictive and self-destructive behavior—was not battle shocked. That wasn’t something you could easily prove, however. Especially when the man in question was as obstinate as Teft.
Teft unfolded his arms, then folded them again, as if to make the gesture more firmly. His clothing was neat and clean, but there was always something a little frayed about Teft. You got the sense that the uniform never quite fit him, as if Teft was half a size between standard measurements.
That said, he was—to his core—a military man. If there was one thing a good sergeant knew, it was to never let your officer go into an unknown situation alone. Who knew what trouble a lighteyes would get into without his common sense tagging along? Teft took ideas like that to heart. And Kaladin knew, meeting Teft’s eyes, that the man was never going to budge.
“Fine,” Kaladin said.
Teft leaped to his feet, gave Kaladin’s mother a little salute, then fell into step behind Kaladin as they walked toward the exam room.
“So, what are we doing?” Teft asked.
“You said you wanted a diagnosis,” Kaladin said, stopping outside the door.
“Nah. Know I’m crazy already. You going to poke at me until I snap? Skip that part. What are we doing today? Binding wounds?”
Kaladin gave him a level stare. Teft just stared back, stubborn as a storm. Well, Kaladin had trained them all as surgeon’s assistants, with knowledge of basic field medicine. He could do worse than Teft as an aide.
It didn’t seem like he had a choice either way. That should have frustrated him. Instead he found himself feeling warm. They weren’t all gone.
“Thank you, Teft,” he whispered. “You shouldn’t have given up so much. But … thank you.”
Teft nodded.
“There is a refugee woman here looking for her uncle,” Kaladin said. “Shall we see if we can track him down for her?”
Endowment at least responded to my overtures, though I have not been able to locate Invention again following our initial contact.
Radiant did not want to be in control at the moment.
As the second day of their voyage dawned—or, well, occurred, since the sun didn’t move in Shadesmar—Shallan retreated entirely. Spending the last day feigning an upbeat attitude had left her exhausted. Unfortunately, after Veil’s stunt in seizing control a few days back—violating the compact—neither wanted her to be in