large. But those live in the waters.”
“These live in chasms,” Eshonai whispered. “It doesn’t seem angry, which is our fortune.”
“It might be far enough away that it hasn’t noticed us,” the king’s brother said.
“It noticed us,” Eshonai said. “It simply doesn’t care.”
Others gathered around, and the king hushed them. Finally, the chasmfiend turned and looked them over. Then it slunk down into the chasm, trailed by a few shimmering chasmspren, like arrows in flight.
“Storms,” the king’s brother said. “You mean at any time, standing on these plateaus, one of those might be right below? Prowling about?”
“How can they live in those chasms?” one of the women asked. “What do they eat?”
It was a more solemn and quick group that returned to their lunch. They were eager to finish and leave, but none of them said it, and none hummed to Anxiety.
Of them all, only the king seemed unperturbed. While the others busied themselves, he continued studying Eshonai’s knife, which he hadn’t returned to her.
“You truly kept these for thousands of years?” he asked.
“No,” she admitted. “We found them. Not my parents. Their parents’ parents. In the ruins.”
“Ruins, you say?” he looked up sharply. “What ruins? Those cities the other guide mentioned?”
Eshonai cursed Klade softly for having mentioned the ten cities. Deciding not to clarify that she meant the ruins at the center of the Plains, she attuned Anxiety. The way he inspected her made her feel like she was a map that had been drawn wrong. “My people built cities,” she said. “Old parents of my people.”
“You don’t say…” he said. “Very curious. You remember those days then? You have records of them?”
“We have songs,” she said. “Many songs. Important songs. They talk of the forms we bore. The wars we fought. How we left the … I don’t know the word … the ones of old. Who ruled us. When the Neshua Kadal were fighting, with spren as companions, and had … had things … they could do…”
“Radiants?” he said, his voice growing softer. “Your people have stories about the Knights Radiant?”
“Yes, maybe?” she said. “I can’t words, yet. Of this.”
“Curious, curious.”
As she’d expected, the humans decided to return to the forest soon after their meal. They were frightened—all but the king. He spent the entire trip asking about the songs. She had plainly been mistaken when she’d assumed he didn’t care much about the listeners.
For from that moment on, he seemed very, very interested. He had his scholars interrogate them about songs, lore, and whether they knew of any other ruins. When the humans finally left for their lands several days later, King Gavilar gave Eshonai’s people a gift: several crates of modern weapons, made of fine steel. They were no replacement for the ancient weapons, but not all of her people had those. No family had enough to outfit all their warriors.
All Gavilar wanted in exchange was a promise: that when he returned in the near future, he wanted to find Eshonai’s people housed in one of the cities at the edge of the Plains. At that time, he said, he hoped to be able to hear from the keepers of songs in person.
In my fevered state, I worry I’m unable to focus on what is important.
—From Rhythm of War, page 3
Navani set to work organizing her scholars under the careful supervision of a large number of singer guards.
The situation left Navani with a delicate problem. She didn’t want to give away more than was absolutely necessary. But if she failed to make progress, Raboniel would eventually notice and take action.
For now, Navani set the scholars to doing some busywork. The singers kept her people enclosed in a single one of the two library rooms, so Navani had the wards and younger ardents begin cleaning the room. They gathered up old projects and boxes of notes, then carried them out to stack in the hallway. They needed to make space.
She assigned the more experienced scholars to do revision work: going back over projects and either checking calculations or drawing new sketches. Ardents brought out fresh ledgers to go over figures, while Rushu unrolled large schematics and set several younger women to measuring each and every line. This would take up several days, perhaps longer—and it was also quite a natural thing to do. Navani frequently ordered recalculations after an interruption. It restored the scholars to a proper mindset, and they sometimes found legitimate errors.
Soon enough, she had an orderly room full of calming sounds. Papers shuffling, pens