Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,471

would chase cremlings with her. Eshonai had always seemed so vibrant—so alive. As if she’d been trying to burst out, her soul straining against the confines of a flawed body.

“You always led me toward the horizon,” Venli found herself saying. “Even as children. Always running to the next hill to see what was on the other side…”

“Would that we could return,” Eshonai said to the Lost.

“To those ignorant days?”

“To that joy. That innocence.”

“Innocence is more false a god than the ones in our songs,” Venli said, sitting beside her sister. “People who chase it will find themselves enslaved.”

Venli felt tired, she realized. She’d been spending far too many nights thinking of plans. And it would only get worse, as she needed to start going out into storms to trap stormspren.

“I’m sorry I brought us to this,” Eshonai whispered to Reconciliation. “We’ve lost so many. How far will it go? All because I made a snap decision in a moment of tension.”

“That sphere,” Venli said. “The one King Gavilar gave you…” They’d all seen it, though it had faded several months later.

“Yes. A dark power. And he claimed to be seeking to return our gods.”

Ulim had been nervous about Gavilar’s sphere. The little spren said Gavilar hadn’t been working with him, or any of Odium’s agents—indeed, he’d been hostile to them. So Ulim had no idea how he’d obtained Odium’s Light.

“Maybe,” Venli said, “if the humans are seeking to contact our gods, perhaps we should explore the option too. Perhaps the things from our songs are—”

“Stop,” Eshonai said to Reprimand. “Venli, what are you saying? You better than most should know the foolishness of what you say.”

I’m always a fool to you, aren’t I? Venli attuned Irritation. Unfortunately, this was the Eshonai she’d come to know. Not the child who encouraged her. The adult who held her back, ridiculed her.

“Sing the song with me,” Eshonai said. “‘Terrible and great they were, but—’”

“Please don’t turn this into another lecture, Eshonai,” Venli said. “Just … stop, all right?”

Eshonai trailed off, then hummed to Reconciliation. The two of them sat for a time, the light outside dimming as the sun drifted toward the horizon. Venli found herself humming to Reconciliation as well. She explored the rhythm, finding a complementary tone to Eshonai’s, seeking again—for a brief moment—to be in tune with her sister.

Eshonai quietly changed to Longing, and Venli followed. And then, cautiously, Venli switched to Joy. Eshonai followed her this time. Together they made a song, and Venli began singing. It had been … well, years since she’d practiced the songs. She’d long ago stopped thinking of herself as the apprentice song keeper; they had plenty of others to uphold their traditions, now that they’d united the families.

She still remembered the songs though. This was the Song of Mornings. A teaching song, meant to train a young child for more complex rhythms and songs. There was something satisfying about a simple song you could sing well. You could add your own complexity. And you could sing the song’s soul—rather than struggle with missed lyrics or failed notes.

She let her voice drift off at the end, and Eshonai’s humming quieted. Dusk fell outside. The perfectly wrong time for the Song of Mornings. She loved that it had worked so well anyway.

“Thank you, Venli,” Eshonai said. “For all that you do. You don’t get enough credit for having brought us these forms. Without warform, we wouldn’t stand a chance of resisting the humans. We’d probably be their slaves.”

“I…” Venli tried to attune Confidence, but it slipped away from her. “As long as you and Demid know what I did, I suppose it doesn’t sting so much when others pass me over.”

“Do you think you could find me a different form?” Eshonai said. “A form that would let me talk better, more diplomatically? I could go to the humans and explain what happened. Maybe I could speak with Dalinar Kholin. I feel like … like he might listen, if I could find him. If I could make my tongue work. They don’t hear the rhythms, and it’s so difficult to explain to them.…”

“I can try,” Venli said, Pleading sounding in her ears. Why Pleading? She hadn’t attuned that.

“Then maybe I could talk to you,” Eshonai said quietly, drooping from fatigue. “Without sounding like I’m trying to lecture. You’d know how I really feel. Mother would understand that I don’t try to run away. I just want to see…”

“You’ll see it someday,” Venli promised. “You’ll see the