Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,200

like this one when I was younger?”

“Mmm. No?”

“I did,” Shallan said. “I don’t know how, but I did. I can’t make sense of my own memories though.”

“Perhaps … I can help you? Remember?”

She stared at the sketchbook.

“Shallan,” Pattern said. “I’m worried about you. Mmm. You say you’re getting better, but I worry. Adolin agrees, though I don’t think he sees what I do.”

“What do you see?” she asked softly.

“Something else looking out of your eyes, sometimes. Something new. It comes out when … when I try to talk about your past. So I’m afraid to do it. Sometimes you tease that you want me to say more. Then those other eyes see me.”

“There’s another truth,” Shallan whispered. “Another…”

“Another…”

She squeezed her eyes shut. Veil, take over.

But—

Veil found herself in control again, and heard voices drifting in from outside the barge. Adolin, strong and confident. Veil didn’t love him like Shallan did, but she knew right then that they needed to be near him. Shallan needed to be near him.

No, Shallan thought from deep within. No. He’ll hate me. He’ll hate … what I did.…

Veil went to be near him anyway. But she couldn’t find it in herself to tell him of Shallan’s fears—she would not risk pain she wasn’t certain Shallan could handle. She couldn’t risk giving more meat to Formless, and so remained silent.

* * *

“So it is you,” Notum said to Adolin. “You did not learn from your last excursion into this land? You had to return?”

Notum appeared as an Alethi man, sturdy and tall, with close-cropped hair and a militaristic attitude. He had a beard a little like that of a Horneater, with prominent sideburns running down his cheeks, but with an additional thin mustache. It, along with his simple clothing, was all part of him. Though some spren wore manifested clothing, honorspren created it from their own substance.

Notum’s face was impassive, but his words dripped with condescension. Why wasn’t he wearing his captain’s uniform? Was he on leave? His ship certainly wasn’t anywhere nearby.

The spren—as extremely formal as Adolin remembered him being—clasped his hands behind his back to wait for a reply, reminding Adolin of his father. Adolin waved for his soldiers to stay back, though Maya stuck by his side as he stepped closer to Notum. The honorspren gave her barely a glance; they tended to ignore deadeyes.

“I’ve been sent on a diplomatic mission, Notum,” Adolin said, “to visit Lasting Integrity. I’m representing the new orders of Radiants and my father, the king of Urithiru. Our monarchs have sent letters of introduction. We hope to forge a new alliance.”

The honorspren opened his eyes wide and drew in a sharp breath—something spren only did for effect, as they didn’t normally breathe.

“What?” Adolin said. “It’s that surprising?”

“It wouldn’t be polite for me to interrupt,” Notum said. “Please continue your insane rant.”

“We merely want to enter a dialogue,” Adolin said. “Regularize diplomatic relations between the human world and the spren one. It’s a perfectly reasonable request.”

The street nearby emptied as spren gave a wide berth to the honorspren. They’d glance at him and veer in another direction. He wasn’t liked here. His presence was suffered, but not enjoyed.

“Let me posit a similar situation for you,” he said to Adolin. “A criminal, on the run, has stolen a precious memento from the king—his beloved goblet, perhaps. A memory of his lost wife. Would it be reasonable for this thief to stroll up to the palace one day and try to normalize relations between him and the king? Would that instead not be idiocy?”

“We took nothing from the honorspren.”

“Save the Stormfather’s most precious daughter.”

“Syl made that choice,” Adolin said. “Even the Stormfather has acknowledged that. Besides, if she’s so precious, maybe you all could listen to her once in a while.” Maya growled softly at this comment, which drew both Adolin and Notum to glance at her. Sounds from a deadeye were always an oddity.

“The Stormfather,” Notum said, “won’t be much help to you. Now that he’s agreed to be bound, the honorspren no longer revere him as they once did. They think he must have been wounded by the death of Honor, and that wound is now manifesting as irrational behavior. So yes, he no longer commands the return of the Ancient Daughter. But do not think that will make the honorspren welcome you.”

“As soon as someone they respect tells them something reasonable, they cast him aside?” Adolin asked. “Spren are supposed to be better than men.”

“I wish that were