first saw me in the cell. You’re not selfish, Venli.”
“I am,” she said. “A lot of things are confusing to me these days—but of that fact I’m certain.”
“No,” he said. “Today you’re a hero. I know you’ve been through rough times, but today…” He grinned and hummed to Appreciation again, then ducked out after the others.
If only he knew the whole story. Still, she felt upbeat as she headed toward the scholar rooms below.
“Can I say the words now?” she asked Timbre.
The pulse indicated the negative. Not yet.
“When?” Venli asked.
A simple, straightforward pulse was her answer.
You’ll know.
Midius once told me … told me we could use Investiture … to enhance our minds, our memories, so we wouldn’t forget so much.
Raboniel made good on her promise to leave Navani to her own designs. The Fused studied the shield that protected the Sibling—but without Navani to accidentally act as a spy, Raboniel’s progress wasn’t nearly as rapid as before. Occasionally—when pacing so she could glance out past the guard—Navani would catch Raboniel sitting on the floor beside the blue shield, holding up the sphere full of Warlight and staring at it.
Navani found herself in a curious situation. Forbidden to take part in the administration of the tower, forbidden direct contact with her scholars, she had only her research to occupy her. In a way, she had been given the gift she’d always wished for: a chance to truly see if she could become a scholar.
Something had always prevented her from full dedication. After Gavilar’s death, she’d been too busy guiding Elhokar and then Aesudan. Perhaps Navani could have focused on scholarship when she’d first come to the Shattered Plains—but there had been a Blackthorn to seduce and then a new kingdom to forge. For all she complained about politics and the distractions of administering a kingdom, she certainly did find her way into the middle of both with frightful regularity.
Perhaps Navani should go do menial labor. At least that way she’d be among the people. And wouldn’t risk doing any more damage. Except … Raboniel would certainly never let her go around unsupervised. Plus, the lure of unknown secrets called to Navani. She had information Raboniel did not. Navani had seen a sphere that warped air, filled with what seemed to be some kind of anti-Voidlight. She knew about the explosion.
The thing Raboniel wanted to create was possible. So … why not try to find out how to make it? Why not see what she could actually do? The power to destroy a god. Negative Light. Can I crack the secret?
What if Navani was thinking too small in trying to save the tower? What if there was a way to end the war once and for all? What if Navani really could find a way to destroy Odium?
She needed to try. But how to even start? Well … the best way to encourage discoveries from her scholars was usually to cultivate the proper environment and attitude. Keep them studying, keep them experimenting. Oftentimes the greatest discoveries came not because a woman was looking for them, but because she was so engrossed in some other topic that she started making connections she never would have otherwise.
So, over the next few days, Navani tried to replicate this state in herself. She ordered parts, supplies, fabrial mechanisms—some all the way from Kholinar—and they were delivered without a word of complaint. That included, most importantly, many gemstones bearing corrupted spren to power fabrials.
To warm up, she spent time creating weapons that wouldn’t look like weapons. Traps she could use, if she grew truly desperate, to defend her room or the pillar room. She wasn’t certain how she would deploy them—or if she would need to. For now, it was something scholarly to do, something familiar, and she threw herself wholeheartedly into the work.
She hid painrials inside other fabrials, constructed to appear innocuous. She made alarms to distract, using technology they’d discovered from the gemstones left by the old Radiants in Urithiru. She used conjoined rubies to make spring traps that would release spikes.
She put Voidlight spheres in her fabrial traps, then set them to be armed by a simple trick. A magnet against the side of the cube, in precisely the right place, would move a metal lever and arm the traps. This way they wouldn’t activate until she needed them. She had these boxes stored out in the hallway, as if they were half-completed experiments she intended to return to in a few days. The