Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,237

Kaladin had always had with his father. Lirin said you couldn’t fight without perpetuating the system, eventually causing the common people to suffer more than if you’d refused. Kaladin found fault in that reasoning, but hadn’t been able to explain it to Lirin. And so he doubted he could explain it to a piece of divinity—a literal embodiment of hope and honor.

He could just do his best to change what he could. That started with himself. “Rlain,” Kaladin said. “I don’t think I’ve ever apologized for what we did in desecrating the bodies of the fallen listeners to make armor.”

“No,” Rlain said. “I don’t think you ever did, sir.”

“I apologize now. For the pain we caused you. I don’t know if there was anything else we could have done, but…”

“The sentiment means a lot to me, Kal,” Rlain said. “It does.” They sat in silence for a short time.

“So…” Teft eventually said. “Dabbid.”

“I saw him yesterday,” Rlain said. “He stopped by the fields, but didn’t do much work. Wandered around a bit, helped when I asked him to run an errand. Then he faded away.”

“And you couldn’t find him today?” Teft asked.

“No, but the tower is a big place.” Rlain turned around, glancing toward something Kaladin couldn’t see. “Bad day to get lost though…”

“What do you mean?” Teft asked, frowning.

“The Everstorm?” Rlain said. “Right. You can’t hear the rhythms. You can’t feel when it passes.”

Kaladin had forgotten again. Storms, being up here in the tower felt like being blind. Losing a sense you’d always had—in this case the ability to glance at the sky and know if a storm was happening.

Teft grunted, finally getting one of the servers to come over so he could order some red for Rlain.

“How worried should we be about Dabbid?” Rlain asked.

“I don’t know,” Kaladin said. “Lopen always looked after him. I want Dabbid to join the program Teft and I are setting up. To help people like him. Like us.”

“You think it will get him talking?” Rlain asked.

“At any rate, I think listening to the others could help him.”

“Don’t take this wrong, sir,” Rlain said. “But … has it helped you?”

“Well, I don’t know that…” Kaladin looked down at the table. Had it? Had talking to Noril helped?

“He’s been avoiding joining in,” Teft said.

“I haven’t,” Kaladin snapped. “I’ve been busy.”

Teft gave him a flat stare. Storming sergeants. They always heard the things you weren’t saying.

“I need to get the program up and running first,” Kaladin said. “Find all the men who’ve been tucked away in dark rooms, and get them help. Then I can rest.”

“Pardon, sir,” Rlain said, “but don’t you need it as much as they do? Maybe it would be restful to participate.”

Kaladin turned away, and found Syl—on his shoulder—glaring as hard as Teft. She’d even given herself a little Bridge Four uniform … and was he wrong, or was it more blue than the rest of her body? As their bond deepened and she entered this realm more strongly, the variety, detail, and hues of her forms were improving.

Maybe they were right. Maybe he should take part more in the meetings with the battle-shocked men. He just wasn’t sure he deserved to divert resources or time from them. Kaladin still had a family. He had support. He wasn’t locked away in darkness. How could he worry about himself when others needed him?

His friends weren’t going to relent on this, he could tell. All three of them, bullying him together. “Fine,” Kaladin said. “I’ll join the next meeting. I was thinking about it anyway.”

They acted like he was avoiding getting help. But he’d stepped down as Dalinar demanded. He’d started working as a surgeon. And he had to admit it was helping. Being with his family, talking to his parents, knowing he was wanted and needed … that helped more.

This project though, finding those who were like him, alleviating their suffering … that would help the most. Strength before weakness. He was coming to understand that part of his first oath. He had discovered weakness in himself, but that wasn’t something to be ashamed of. Because of that weakness, he could help in ways nobody else could.

Syl glowed a little brighter on his shoulder as he acknowledged that, and he felt a warmth within. His own darkness hadn’t gone away, of course. He continued to have nightmares. And the other day when a soldier had handed Kaladin his spear, it had … Well, it had made him panic. That reaction reminded him