Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,341

hiding inside the room with the baskets. Unfortunately, he soon heard voices—and peeked to see a pair of singers with baskets walking down the hallway. Even an occupying force of ancient evil soldiers needed to do laundry, it seemed. Kaladin closed the door, shutting himself in darkness, then—realizing there was a chance they were coming to dump their baskets in this very room—he grabbed a broom and lashed it across the door.

Since he’d infused the broom on either end, no Stormlight should show through the door. A moment later it rattled as they tried to push it inward. Annoyed voices outside complained in Azish as they tried the door again. He gripped his knife, darkness weighing upon him. The horror of the nightmares, and a fatigue that went far deeper than the earlier strain to his muscles. A tiredness that had been with him so long, he’d accepted it as normal.

When the door rattled again, he was certain it was a dark force come to claim him. He heard the sounds of bowstrings, and of Gaz yelling for the bridgemen to run. Screams of men dying, and … And …

He blinked. The door had fallen still. When … when had that happened? He gave it a few minutes, wiping the sweat from his forehead, then un-Lashed the broom and cracked the door. Two abandoned baskets sat nearby, no singers in sight. He let out a long breath, then pried his fingers off his scalpel and tucked it away.

Eventually Syl returned. “They weren’t going to their rooms,” she said, animatedly dancing around in patterns as a ribbon of light. “They dropped off their spanreed in a room ahead where there are dozens of spanreeds, watched over by a couple of senior femalens.”

Kaladin nodded, breathing deeply, fighting back the tiredness.

“You … all right?” Syl asked.

“I’m fine,” Kaladin said. “That’s a spanreed hub you found. Makes sense they’d set one up in the tower.” Maintaining hundreds of spanreeds could grow unwieldy, so many highlords and highladies would set up hubs. Disparate locations—like guard posts around the tower—could send reports to a central room, where the hub attendants sifted for important information and sent it to those in power.

The singers were keeping their reeds in central locations to be checked out, used, and returned. The reeds wouldn’t go home with individual scribes. This wasn’t going to be as easy as sneaking into a bedroom to grab one, but the hub might offer other opportunities.

“We need to get past that guard post,” Kaladin whispered, burying his fatigue.

“There’s something else, Kaladin,” Syl said. “Look out the door, down the tunnel.”

Frowning, he did as she requested, peeking out and watching down the tunnel. He was confused, until he saw something pass in the air—like rippling red lightning.

“That’s a new kind of Voidspren,” he said. The ones he’d seen in the past that looked like lightning moved along the ground.

“It’s not, though,” Syl said. “That spren should be invisible to people, but something is off about its aura. It is leaving a trail that I noted the guards watching.”

Curious. So the tower was interfering with spren invisibility? “Did the guards look at you when you passed?”

“No, but they might just not have noticed me.”

Kaladin nodded, watching a little longer. That spren in the distance didn’t pass again. “It’s worth the risk,” he decided, “in proceeding. At least we’ll know if we’re being spied upon.”

“But what about that guard post?” she asked.

“I doubt we’ll be able to sneak around it,” he said. “They’ll have all directions guarded for something valuable like a spanreed hub. But a lot of these rooms have small tunnels at the tops for ventilation. Perhaps we can sneak through one of those?”

Syl led him carefully to an intersection. He peered right, to where four guards blocked the way, two at either side of the hallway. Spears at the crooks of their arms, they wore Alethi-style uniforms with knots on the shoulders. Kaladin was able to spot one of the ventilation holes nearby, but this one was far too small for him to squeeze into.

He’d stood on guard duty himself like that on a number of occasions. If these four were well trained, there would be no luring them away with simple distractions. If you wanted a path well protected, you often posted four. Two to investigate any disturbances, two to remain vigilant.

With the hallway this narrow, and with those guards looking as alert as they were … Well, he’d been there. The only times when