Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,500

the witness,” Sekeir said. “The defendant is not allowed to interrupt the judge.”

Fine. Adolin settled into parade rest. He didn’t have an enlisted man’s experience with standing at attention, but Zahel had forced him to learn this stance anyway. He could hold it. Let them see him bear their lashes without complaint.

His determination in that regard lasted until Sekeir, at long last, finished his speech and called for the final witness to be revealed.

It was Maya.

Amuna led her by the hand, forcing back the watching honorspren. Though Adolin had gone to see Maya each morning—and they’d let him do his exercises with her—bars had separated them. They hadn’t otherwise allowed him to interact with her, claiming deadeyes did best when it was quiet.

If so, why were they dragging her into the middle of a crowd? Adolin stepped forward, but the honorspren at his side snapped the gag in warning. He forced himself back into parade rest and clenched his jaw. Maya didn’t seem any worse for the attention. She walked with that customary sightless stare, completely oblivious to the whispering crowd.

Sekeir didn’t hush them this time. The bearded honorspren smiled as he regarded the stir Amuna and Maya made. They placed Maya on her podium, and she turned and seemed to notice Adolin, for she cocked her head. Then, as if only now aware of it, she regarded the crowded audience. She shrank down, hunching her shoulders, and glanced around with quick, jerky motions.

He tried to catch her gaze and reassure her with a smile, but she was too distracted. Damnation. Adolin hadn’t hated the honorspren, despite their tricks, but this started him seething. How dare they use Maya as part of their spectacle?

Not all of them, he reminded himself, reading the mood of the crowd. Some sat quietly, others whispered. And more than a few near the top wore stormy expressions. No, they didn’t care for this move either.

“You may speak now, prisoner,” Sekeir said to Adolin. “Do you recognize this deadeye?”

“Why are you questioning me?” Adolin said. “She is supposed to give witness, and I’m supposed to question her. Yet you’ve chosen a witness who cannot answer your questions.”

“I will guide this discussion,” Sekeir said. “As is my right as judge in the case of a witness too young or otherwise incapable of a traditional examination.”

Adolin sought out Blended, a single black figure in a sea of glowing white ones. She nodded. This was legal. There were so many laws she hadn’t had time to explain—but it wasn’t her fault. He suspected he couldn’t have understood every detail of the law even with years of preparation.

“Now,” Sekeir said, “do you know this spren?”

“You know I do,” Adolin snapped. “That is Mayalaran. She is my friend.”

“Your ‘friend,’ you say?” Sekeir asked. “And what does this friendship entail? Do you perhaps have dinner together? Participate in friendly chats around the campfire?”

“We exercise together.”

“Exercise?” Sekeir said, standing from his seat behind the judge’s table. “You made a weapon of her. She is not your friend, but a convenient tool. A weapon by which you slay other men. Your kind never asks permission of Shardblades; you take them as prizes won in battle, then apply them as you wish. She is not your friend, Adolin Kholin. She is your slave.”

“Yes,” Adolin admitted. He looked to Maya, then turned away. “Yes, storm you. We didn’t know they were spren at first, but even now that we do … we use them. We need to.”

“Because you need to kill,” Sekeir said, walking up to Adolin. “Humans are monsters, with a lust for death that can never be sated. You thrive upon the terrible emotions of the Unmade. You don’t fight Odium. You are Odium.”

“Your point is made,” Adolin said more softly. “Let Maya go. Pass your judgment.”

Sekeir stepped up to him, meeting his eyes.

“Look at her,” Adolin said, gesturing. “She’s terrified.”

Indeed, Maya had shrunk down further and was twisting about, as if to try to watch all the members of the audience at once. She turned so violently, in fact, that Amuna and another honorspren stepped up to take her arms, perhaps to prevent her from fleeing.

“You want this to be easy, do you?” Sekeir asked Adolin, speaking in a softer voice. “You don’t deserve easy. I had this fortress working in an orderly, organized manner before you arrived. You have no idea the frustration you have caused me, human.” The honorspren stepped away from Adolin and faced the crowd, thrusting his hand toward