Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,340

for her sister. Listeners went into the storms all the time, and while it was never strictly safe, she didn’t need to hum to Anxiety like the humans did when they talked of storms. Storms were a natural part of life, a gift from Roshar to the listeners.

Though a little piece of Eshonai … a part she hated to acknowledge … noted how much easier life would be without Venli around, complaining all the time. Without her jealousy. Everything Eshonai did—every conversation, or plan, or outing—was made harder when Venli decided to be involved. Complications would materialize out of calm air.

It was weakness in Eshonai that she should feel this way. She was supposed to love her sister. And she didn’t really want harm to come to Venli, but it was difficult not to remember how peaceful it had been to explore on her own, without any of Venli’s drama.…

A figure appeared out of the storm, slick with rain, backlit by lightning. Eshonai felt guilty again, and attuned Joy by force upon seeing it was Venli. She stepped out into the storm and helped her sister the rest of the way.

Venli remained in workform. A wet, shivering femalen in workform.

“Didn’t work, eh?” Thude asked her.

Venli looked at him, as mute as a human, her mouth opening a little. Then, unnervingly, she grinned. A frantic, uncharacteristic grin.

“No, Thude,” Venli said. “It didn’t work. I will have to try many, many more times to find warform.”

He hummed to Reconciliation, eyeing Eshonai. She’d been right—it hadn’t been about mateform after all.

“I should like to sit by the fire,” Venli said, “and warm myself.”

“Venli?” Eshonai said. “Your words … where are their rhythms?”

Venli paused. Then she—as if it were a struggle—began humming to Amusement. It took her a few tries.

“Don’t be silly,” Venli said. “You just weren’t listening.” She strode toward the fire, walking with a swagger that seemed even more confident than normal. The high-headed stroll of a femalen who thought that the storms began and ended upon her whims.

I find this experience so odd. I work with a scholar from the ancient days, before modern scientific theory was developed. I keep forgetting all the thousands of years of tradition you completely missed.

—From Rhythm of War, page 6 undertext

Kaladin landed on the balcony with a muted thump. Syl was a glowing ribbon of light farther into the building. He couldn’t see the scouts who had packed up and left with the spanreeds, but he trusted Syl was watching them.

He followed into the darkness, putting his Stormlight into a sphere so he didn’t glow. He had failed to spy on the Oathgates, but if he could somehow steal one of those Voidlight spanreeds, he could still help Navani.

He crept as quickly as he dared in the darkness, one hand on the wall. He soon neared a hallway with lanterns along the wall; as this was the third floor of the tower, much of it was occupied and lit. The lanterns revealed two femalen singers ahead, wearing havahs and chatting quietly. Syl carefully darted into side tunnels and nooks behind them.

Kaladin trailed far behind, relying on Syl to point out turns, as the two singers were often out of his direct line of sight. This section of the tower was a large laundry facility, where darkeyes could come to use public water and soap. He passed several large rooms without doors where the floor was shaped into a sequence of basins.

It was nearly empty now. The tower’s pumps hadn’t been changed to work on Voidlight, it seemed. He did have to avoid several water-carrying teams—humans pulling carts, with singer guards—moving through the tunnels. Syl soon came zipping back, so he ducked into a darkened alcove near an empty room full of baskets for laundry. The place smelled of soap.

“Guard post ahead,” she whispered. “They went through it. What do you want to do?”

“Any Fused nearby?” Kaladin asked.

“Not that I saw. Only ordinary singers.”

“Theoretically, regular guards shouldn’t be able to see you unless you let them. Follow those singers with the spanreeds. Hopefully their rooms are nearby. If they split up, pick the one with the blue havah—the embroidery indicates she’s the more important. Once you know where her room is, come back, then we can sneak in another way and steal the spanreed.”

“Right. If they get too far away from you though, I’ll lose myself.…”

“Return if you start to feel that,” he said. “We can try another night.”

Syl soared off without another word, leaving Kaladin