Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,236

anywhere without those two.

Kaladin tried to remember the last time he’d gone out for fun without Adolin forcing him. Skar’s wedding? Yes, Lyn had made him go right before their breakup. That had been the last time he’d gone out with Bridge Four.

Blood of my fathers, he thought, sliding into the booth. I really have been withdrawing from them. From everyone. Except Adolin, who wouldn’t stand for it. Half the reason Kaladin had begun courting Lyn was due to Adolin and Syl conspiring against him. Storming man. Storming spren. Bless them both. Though the relationship hadn’t worked out, he could now see that they’d both grown because of it.

Teft went to fetch drinks. Orange for both of them. As Kaladin settled into the seat, he noted some of the scratched-in sketches Shallan had done with a knife on the tabletop. One was a rather unflattering picture of him in oversized boots.

When Teft returned, Kaladin eagerly took a long drink from his mug.

Teft just stared at his. “What happens if I get some red?”

“Tonight? Probably nothing. But you’ll get it next time.”

“And then I’ll get some violet,” Teft said. “Then something clear. Then…” He sighed, then took a sip of the orange. “This is storming unfair, you realize.”

Kaladin held out his cup. Teft clicked his against it.

“To unfairness,” Kaladin said.

“Storming straight,” Teft said, then downed his entire mug at once in an impressive display.

Syl darted in a short time later. The place wasn’t busy, but there were some people about. Relaxing into their seats, complaining jovial complaints, laughing ornery laughs, all of it lubricated by a little alcohol.

That stopped when Rlain stepped in behind Syl. Kaladin winced at how obvious it was. The people of the tower knew about Rlain—he was nearly as famous as Kaladin—but … well, Kaladin heard what they said about him. The “savage” that Dalinar had somehow “tamed.”

Many treated Rlain like some dark unknown quantity that should be locked away. Others, ostensibly more charitable, spoke of Rlain as some noble warrior, a mystical representative of a lost people. Both groups shared a similar problem. They saw only their own strange ideal of what he should be. A controversy, a curiosity, or a symbol. Not who he was.

Though Rlain seemed not to notice the way the winehouse grew quiet, Kaladin knew that was a front. The listener always noticed. Still, he crossed the room with a ready smile—he often exaggerated his facial expressions around humans, to try to put them at ease.

“Teft,” he said, taking a seat. He looked to Kaladin. “Sir.”

“Just Kaladin now,” Kaladin replied as Syl flew up to settle onto his shoulder.

“You might not be in command anymore,” Rlain said with a slight cadence to his words, “but you’re still the captain of Bridge Four.”

“What did you think all that time, Rlain?” Teft asked. “Carrying bridges against your own kind?”

“Didn’t think a ton at first,” Rlain said, trying to flag down a passing server. She jumped, then quickly moved in the other direction to tug on the arm of a more experienced server. Rlain sighed, then turned back to Teft. “I was in Damnation, same as the rest of you. I wasn’t thinking about spying; I was thinking about surviving. Or about how to get a message to Eshonai—she was our general.”

His demeanor changed, as did his tone, the cadence to his words becoming slower. “The first time I almost died,” he said, “I realized that the archers would have no idea—from a distance—who I was. They couldn’t see my pattern. It had been discussed what we’d do if the humans ever started using parshmen for runs, and we’d decided we had to drop them, same as humans. Then there I was, staring at my friends, knowing they would do their best to kill me.…”

“That’s terrible,” Syl said, causing Teft and Rlain to glance at her. Apparently she’d decided to let them see her. “That’s so terrible.…”

“It was war,” Rlain said.

“Is that an excuse?” she asked.

“An explanation,” Teft said.

“One used to explain too much,” Syl said, wrapping her arms around herself and growing smaller than usual. “It’s war, you say. Nothing to be done about it. You act like it’s as inevitable as the sun and storms. But it’s not. You don’t have to kill each other.”

Kaladin shared a glance with Teft and Rlain, the latter humming to a mournful cadence. She wasn’t wrong. Most everyone would agree. Unfortunately, when you got down to the bloody details, it wasn’t so simple.

It was the same problem