Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,317

hummed to Tension. “We’ve had a problem with Shumin, the new recruit.”

She hummed to Reprimand.

“She tried recruiting others,” Dul explained. “She’s been implying she knows someone planning to start a rebellion against the Fused.”

Venli hummed to Derision. She didn’t normally use Odium’s rhythms with her friends, but it fit the situation too well.

Dul sighed like a human. “It’s the same old problem, Venli. The people willing to listen to us are going to be a little unreliable—if they were fully capable or smart, they wouldn’t dare keep secrets from the Fused.”

“So what does that say about you and me?” Venli asked.

“Pretty sure that was clearly implied,” Dul said with a grin, speaking to Amusement.

“Isolate Shumin,” Venli said. “We don’t dare return her to Kholinar without supervision, but see if you can get her assigned to some kind of menial task without much time to interact with others. And emphasize to her again that she’s not to recruit.”

“Understood,” he said softly to Consolation. He glanced upward, along the wide set of winding steps. “I hear the humans almost won here on these steps. No Radiants, and they stood against Fused and Regals.”

“Briefly,” Venli said. “But … yes, it was a sight. I almost wanted them to win.”

“Is there a path for us there, Venli?” he asked to Pleading. “Go to them, help them, and get help in return?”

“You know far more about humans than I do,” Venli said. “What do your instincts say?”

He glanced away. “They don’t see us as people. Before, they wouldn’t let me and Mazish marry. One of the only times I spoke to my master was to make that request—a single word, with as much passion as I could muster. He was angry that I dared talk to him. One storming word…”

He attracted an angerspren that prowled up the steps below him, like sparking lightning. Timbre pulsed morosely. Her kind had been treated similarly. Yet Venli found herself thinking about the fight on these steps. They were valiant, these humans. Though you obviously had to be careful not to let them get too much power over you.

“When you get back to the others,” Venli said, continuing to climb, “put a few of our people on the crews that are gathering and caring for the unconscious Knights Radiant. We should watch them for an opportunity, just in case.”

She had originally hoped they would be able to train her in her powers—but that seemed impossible now. She still didn’t know if she’d be able to use them here without being detected, and was trying to think of a way to find the answer to that.

“Understood, Brightness.” He nodded to her as they reached the top of the steps, then parted ways.

Venli hummed to Longing. She hoped she wasn’t causing Dul to sing hopeless songs; though she spoke to Confidence, she didn’t know whether there would be a chance for them to escape in the coming weeks. And the more time she spent with Raboniel, the more she worried. That Fused saw things she shouldn’t be able to, piercing plots with keen eyes.

Each day Venli’s people lived in secret was another chance for them to be exposed, taken quietly in the night, and either executed or forced to become hosts for the Fused. They needed what she’d promised: to live on their own, as their own nation. Could she really provide that though? Venli, who had never touched anything in her life without making a storm of it. She had gotten one people destroyed already.

Timbre pulsed consoling ideas as Venli made her way through the corridors.

“I wish I could believe, Timbre,” she said softly. “I really wish I could. But you don’t know what you’re working with in me. You don’t understand.”

Timbre pulsed, inquisitive. She wanted to know. Venli had long remained silent about the more difficult parts of her past.

The time to share them, however, was long overdue. “The worst of it began,” Venli whispered, “when the humans visited us the second time.…”

EIGHT AND A HALF YEARS AGO

“A delicate touch…’” Jaxlim said. “‘To … To…’”

Venli froze. She looked up from her place by the wall, where she was using some paper—a gift from the humans—to play with letters and beats. Representations of sounds in a possible written language, like the humans used.

Her mother stood by the window, doing her daily recitations. The same calming songs, performed by the same beautiful voice that had been Venli’s guide all her days. The foundation upon which she’d built her life.

“‘A delicate touch…’”