have you visit us, more.”
Dalinar dismissed his Blade, sending it away with a puff of white fog. She attuned Confusion.
“My brother has taken an interest in you,” Dalinar said softly. “This … Well, be more cautious with your invitations, parshwoman. Our attention can be dangerous.”
“I do not understand,” she said. It sounded as if he were warning her against his own.
“I have grown tired of pushing people around,” Dalinar said. “In my wake, I’ve left too many smoldering holes where cities used to be. You are something special, something we’ve never seen before. And I know my brother—I know that look in his eyes, that excitement.
“His interest could benefit you, but it could have an equal cost. Do not be so quick to share your stormshelter with men you just barely met. Don’t offend, but also don’t be too quick to bend. Any new recruit needs to learn both lessons. In this case, I’d suggest politeness—but care. Do not let him back you into a corner. He will respect you if you stand up for yourselves. And whatever you do, don’t give him any reason to decide he wants what you have.”
Be forceful, stand up for themselves, but don’t offend their king? How did that make any sense? Yet looking at him—listening to his calm but firm voice—she thought she did understand. His intent, as if given to her by a rhythm.
Be careful with us was what he was saying. We are far more dangerous than you think.
He had mentioned … burning cities.
“How many cities do your people live in?” she asked.
“Hundreds,” he said. “The number of humans in our realm would stagger you. It is many times the number of parshmen I’ve seen here living with you.”
Impossible. That … was impossible, wasn’t it?
We know so little.
“Thank you,” she said to Appreciation. She got it to click, the way of speaking his language but putting a rhythm to it. It could work.
He nodded to her. “We are leaving. I realize this visit was short, but my brother needs to return to his lands. You will … certainly meet us again. We will send a more permanent envoy. I promise you this.”
He turned, moving with the momentum of a shifting boulder, and walked toward his stormwagon.
* * *
Venli felt as if the bright red gemstone would burn its way through her clothing. She huddled in one of the stormshelters: a group of wide slits in the ground near the city, which they’d covered over with animal carapace and crem. Each was in the top of a hill, so the sides could drain.
Venli’s immediate family gathered together in this one to chat and feast, as was their habit during storm days. The others seemed so cheerful, speaking to Joy or Appreciation while they ate beside the fire, listening as Venli’s mother sang songs by the light of uncut gemhearts.
Those could be organic, lumpish things. While they took in Stormlight, none were nearly as bright as the strange gemstone in her pocket. The one the human had given her. Venli felt as if it should be on fire, though it was as cold as a normal gemstone. She attuned Anxiety and glanced at the others, worrying they’d see that too-red glow.
I’m supposed to go out into the storm, she thought, listening to the rain pound distant stone. Does this count? I can see the storm out there, flashing and making its own rhythm, too frantic. Too wild.
No, she wasn’t close enough. Hiding in one of these shelters wouldn’t allow her to adopt mateform, which was the sole transformation they did regularly. No one wanted to go back to dullform, after all.
There were other forms to be found. She’d been close to warform. And now … this gemstone …
She’d carried it for weeks, terrified of what might happen. She glanced at her mother, and the close family members who sat and listened. Enraptured by the beautiful songs. Even Venli, who had heard them hundreds of times, found herself wanting to drift back and sit at her mother’s feet.
None of them knew what was happening. To Jaxlim. Mother hid it well. Was it true, that other forms could help her? The humans were leaving now, so this was the last chance Venli would have to try the gemstone, then—if it didn’t work—get answers from the human who had given it to her.
Venli attuned Determination and rose from her place, walking toward the end of the shelter, where they’d tied their gemstones to be renewed—close enough