Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,246

the outside and come in the windows on this floor?” the nervous young man asked.

“We barricade ourselves in here tight,” Navani said. “Storms. The Soulcasters—”

“—don’t work, like the other fabrials.”

Damnation. “We have garrison stores?” she asked, hopeful.

“I’ve sent men to recover them,” Teofil said, pointing at a map of the third floor. “Dumps are here and here.”

“With those, we can hold for weeks,” Navani said. “Plenty of time for my husband to return with our forces.”

The officers looked at one another. Her scribes, clustered near the doorway, stood quietly. After her furious rush to get here—often pushing through confused crowds—it felt unnerving to be in such silence. She almost felt as if the entire tower were bearing down on top of her.

“Brightness,” Teofil said. “They pushed straight for the plateau outside. They have the Oathgates—and are working them somehow, though other fabrials aren’t functioning. Singers will soon flood this tower. But disregarding that, I don’t think barricades would be a prudent strategy.

“Yes, I plugged the stairwells to slow them, but they have stormforms, and I have reports of Fused who can move through stone. They’ll blast and burn away what we put in front of them. If you want us to hold, we’ll hold as long as we can—but I want to make certain you understand the situation fully. In case you want to consider a different plan.”

Halls above. She pressed her hands against the table, forcing order upon her thoughts. Don’t feel like you need to decide everything, she told herself. You’re not a general.

“Advice?” she asked.

“Surrender is distasteful,” Teofil said, “but might be our best option. My soldiers are brave, and I vouch for them—but they cannot stand for long against Regals and Fused. Can you think of any way to restore the Radiants?”

She eyed the maps. “I suspect whatever the enemy did to the Radiants has to do with a specific construction of garnets in the crystal pillar. If we can retake that room, I might be able to reverse all this. I can’t guarantee anything, but it’s my best guess and probably our best hope.”

“That would mean reclaiming part of the first floor,” Teofil said. “We’d have to push down the stairs into the basement…”

Nearby, other officers shuffled and muttered at that idea. Teofil met Navani’s eyes and nodded. He didn’t advise standing in a hopeless fight against a superior enemy. But if she could offer a chance of success, even with a difficult gamble, that was different.

“That will be bloody,” a soldier said. “We’ll have to advance on the position of enemy Surgebinders.”

“And if we fail, we’ll have given up most of our ground,” said another man. “This is basically an in-for-all maneuver. Either we seize the basement, or … that’s it.”

Navani looked over the maps again, determined to think this through, though each minute she debated would make their task that much more difficult.

Teofil is right, she decided. This tower is too porous to hold for long against an enemy with powers. Trying to hold these center rooms wouldn’t work. The enemy would be electrocuting men in large batches, breaking formations, terrifying her troops.

She had to strike before everyone in the tower started feeling like that frightened captain. Before the enemy momentum grew too large to overcome.

They had one hope. Move now.

“Do it,” she ordered. “Throw everything we have into recovering that pillar in the basement.”

Again the room fell silent. Then Teofil barked, “You heard the queen! Shuanor, Gavri, grab your men from the upper floors! Withdraw, leaving only a harrying force to cover the retreat. Radathavian, you command that. Withdraw slowly, making those Heavenly Ones bleed as they have to advance on you. Fused might heal, but they still hurt.

“The rest of you, pull your men to the foot of the grand staircase. We’ll muster there, then make our push! We will carve a hole to the basement steps, then fight down and clear a path for the queen. By the blood of our fathers!”

They scrambled into motion, the various lesser officers calling for runners to deliver orders. Navani didn’t miss their delayed response. They’d moved only after hearing the command from Teofil. These soldiers would fall over themselves to do her bidding when it came to peacetime requests, but during a fight …

Navani glanced at Teofil, who leaned in next to her and spoke in a soft voice. “Pardon them, Brightness,” he said. “They likely don’t much like following a woman’s orders. Masculine arts and all that.”

“And you?” she asked.

“I figure the