Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,239

facing sideways, in case of vomit. And he was trembling, the muscles of his arms spasming faintly.

“Might be a kind of aftereffect,” Kaladin said. “Some addicts feel them for years.” Not seizures though. “If it’s not that, then…”

“What?” Rlain asked as the winehouse owner pushed through the crowd to see what was happening.

“Stroke,” Kaladin said, making the decision. He got underneath Teft and rolled his limp form up onto his shoulders, then stood with a grunt. “There isn’t much I can do here, but we have some anticoagulants at the clinic. If it is a stroke, those sometimes help.”

Rlain moved to take one of Teft’s arms. “The Edgedancers maybe? They have that clinic in the market nearby.”

Kaladin felt stupid. Of course. That was a far better option. He nodded.

“I’ll help you carry,” Rlain said.

“I can Lash him,” Kaladin said, reaching for Stormlight. The Light oddly resisted for a moment, then streamed into him from the spheres in his pocket. He came alive with power. It churned in his veins, urging him to use it. To act. To run.

“I’ll make a hole,” Rlain said. He shoved his way through the crowd, opening up a path for Kaladin.

Kaladin commanded the Light into Teft, to Lash him upward in order to make him lighter.

And it didn’t work.

* * *

“Yes, I recognize him,” Red said.

Navani nodded in thanks, encouraging the tall Lightweaver to continue. He wore darkeyed worker’s clothing—brown trousers, a buttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and some bright suspenders. Thaylen sailor fashion had been making its mark on Urithiru.

She was holding her interrogation on the fifth floor, not far from where the laboratory had been destroyed. She’d ordered the prisoner placed in an adjoining small room, accompanied by several guards.

Red had been the first to respond among the Radiants she’d sent for. “His name’s Dabbid,” Red explained, peeking into the room with the prisoner. “Doesn’t talk. I don’t think he’s right in the head. Well, pardon, most Windrunners ain’t right in the head. They act like some kind of cult to Stormblessed, Brightness, pardon that, but they do that. This one’s extra odd though. I think he was one of the old ones, from Bridge Four. Gaz could tell you. He’s got a history with them.”

“Do you see a spren?” Navani asked.

Red’s eyes unfocused, and he seemed to be staring into the distance. He had light violet eyes now, though he’d been a darkeyes before joining the Lightweavers. Like others of his order, he could peer into Shadesmar.

“Don’t think so,” he said.

“That’s not a terribly encouraging answer, Radiant.”

“This tower makes things hard,” he said. “In Shadesmar, this place glows like Nomon’s own backside. That interferes. But I’m pretty sure I’d be able to see an honorspren. Same for one of the other Radiant spren.”

She peeked into the interrogation room. This Windrunner—or whatever he was—sat at a small table, legs in chains, watched over by two of Navani’s soldiers. When he glanced at Navani, he had that same wild cast as before. His hands were free, so he raised them toward her. One of the soldiers reached to stop him, but wasn’t fast enough to prevent the captive from tapping his wrists together.

The Windrunner salute. He made the gesture again and again as the soldiers tried to settle him.

“Leave him alone,” Navani said, stepping into the room.

The soldiers backed off, and the young man continued tapping his wrists together, frantic. Then he pointed at the wall. What? Was he actually mute?

He pointed more fervently. Navani turned. No, he wasn’t pointing at the wall, but at the sphere in the lantern hanging there, lighting the room. Next, he made a writing motion, frantic.

I think he wants me to contact the spren, she thought.

He’d been delivering a new ruby when they’d caught him. Navani fished it out of her glove, and the prisoner grew more animated, pointing at it.

“Kalami?” Navani said into the other room.

The scribe poked her head in, and Navani handed her the ruby. The woman took it and retreated to set up the spanreed equipment.

“Red says you don’t speak,” Navani said to the man.

He looked down. Then he shook his head.

“Perhaps you should reconsider,” Navani said. “Do you realize the trouble you’re in? It’s a spren that has been talking to you, is that right?”

The man hung his head farther. Then he nodded.

“You realize it could be one of the Unmade,” Navani said. “A Voidspren. The enemy.”

The man looked up sharply. Then he shook his head.

“Brightness!” Kalami shouted from