Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,468

she said. “Look, shellhead, I’ve been in a stormin’ cage. My spren vanished, said he was going to try to get help, and I ain’t heard from him since. Bet he joined the Voidbringers, storming traitor. I don’t know what’s been goin’ on in the tower. What’s wrong with the others?”

“In a cage?” Teft said. “Why? And where are my storming clothes?”

“There’s a lot to explain, Teft,” Rlain said. “The tower is occupied by the enemy and…” He stopped, then frowned, glancing toward Kaladin.

Kaladin … Kaladin was stirring. They all hushed. Even Teft. Kaladin blinked and opened his eyes. He grew tense, then saw Rlain and Dabbid and relaxed, taking a deep breath.

“Is this a dream?” he whispered. “Or am I finally awake?”

“You’re awake, Kal,” Rlain said, kneeling to take Kaladin by the shoulder. “Thank the purest tones. You’re awake. It worked.”

Dabbid stepped back as Teft said something, causing Kaladin to sit up—then laugh in joy. It had worked.

Dabbid wasn’t Radiant. He wasn’t brave. He wasn’t smart. But today he hadn’t been stupid either.

Once, Kaladin had pulled Dabbid out of Damnation itself. It felt good to return that act of heroism with a small one of his own.

A YEAR AND A HALF AGO

As the war with the humans progressed, Venli became increasingly certain she’d made the correct decision.

How could her people, after generations of stagnation, hope to stand by themselves in the world? If recent reports were true, the humans had Surgebinders again, like those spoken of in the songs. Ulim was right. A bigger war than this was coming. Venli’s people needed to be prepared.

Venli stood with folded arms, attuned to Confidence as she watched a listener warband return from a raid. Eshonai and her soldiers had won the day, and they brought a large gemheart with them. Eshonai herself delivered it up to Denshil, their head of farming.

Her warriors didn’t look like victors. Bloody, wounded, their ancient weapons sagging in their grips as if weighted by groundspren. More than a few of the soldiers walked alone. Warpairs who had lost a member.

Venli watched with hidden glee. Surely they were close to breaking. If she could bring them a form of power … would they accept it? Venli remembered her hesitance, and weakness, when she’d started along this path years ago. She’d been technically a youth then, though fully grown. Now she was an adult. She saw as an adult did.

She turned and cut through a side street of the ancient city, passing large crem-covered walls like tall ridges of natural stone. You’d have to cut deep with a Shardblade to find the worked stone at the heart.

This was the more direct way, so she was waiting as Denshil walked past with the gemstone. He was scrawny even when wearing workform, and had a pattern of black and red skin that looked like true marblework, all rough and coarse. He jumped as he saw Venli.

“What are you doing,” he hissed to Anxiety as she walked along beside him.

“Acting naturally,” she said. “I’m head of our scholars. It’s normal for me to visit our farmers and see how their work is progressing.”

He still acted nervous, but at least he attuned Peace as they walked. It didn’t matter. They passed few listeners on the streets. All who weren’t absolutely needed as farmers, caretakers, or other essential workers had joined Eshonai.

In a perfect bit of poetry, this ensured that the bravest of the listeners—those most likely to resist Venli when she brought them stormform—fought on the front lines each day, dying. Each corpse brought Venli one step closer to her goal.

She’d stopped pretending this was only about protecting her people. As she’d grown into herself and become more confident, she’d decided what she truly wanted. True freedom—with the power to make certain she’d never have to be dependent upon anyone else, listener or spren. True freedom couldn’t exist while someone else had power over you.

So yes, her work was about helping her people, in part. But deep within her—where the rhythms began—Venli promised herself that she would be the one who obtained the most freedom.

“How goes your work?” Venli asked to Confidence.

Denshil’s rhythm slipped to Anxiety again. Foolish farmer. He’d better not give them away.

“The others believe me,” he said softly, “and they should. I’m not saying anything that’s a lie, really. If we cut these gemhearts like the humans do, they hold more Stormlight. But I don’t mention the extra bits I cut off before delivering the faceted stone to the