Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,502

ragged as if she had been shouting for hours. “Adolin, we chose.”

“Blood of my fathers…” Adolin whispered.

“What is this?” Sekeir said. “What have you done to her? The sight of you has caused her to rave in madness and—”

He cut off as Maya pointed at him and released a terrifying screech, her jaw lowering farther than it should. Sekeir put his hand to his chest, eyes wide as her screech transformed into words.

“You. Cannot. Have. My. SACRIFICE!” she shouted. “Mine. My sacrifice. Not yours.” She pointed at the crowd. “Not theirs.” She pointed at Adolin. “Not his. Mine. MY SACRIFICE.”

“You knew what was going to happen when the Radiants broke their oaths,” Adolin said. “They didn’t murder you. You decided together.”

She nodded vigorously.

“All this time,” Adolin said, his voice louder—for the audience. “Everyone assumed you were victims. We didn’t accept that you were partners with the Radiants.”

“We chose,” she hissed. Then, belting it loud as an anthem, “WE CHOSE.”

Adolin helped her step over to the first row of benches, and the honorspren sitting there scrambled out of the way. She sat, trembling, but her grip on his arm was fierce. He didn’t pull away; she seemed to need the reassurance.

He looked around at the crowd. Then toward Sekeir and the other eldest honorspren seated near the judge’s bench.

Adolin didn’t speak, but he dared them to continue condemning him. He dared them to ignore the testimony of the witness they’d chosen, the one they’d pretended to give the power of judgment. He let them mull it over. He let them think.

Then they began to trail away. Haunted, perhaps confused, the honorspren began to leave. The elders gathered around Sekeir, who remained standing, dumbfounded, staring at Maya. They pulled him away, speaking in hushed, concerned tones.

They didn’t touch Adolin. They stayed far from him, from Maya. Until eventually a single person remained in the stands. A female spren in a black suit, her skin faintly tinged with an oily rainbow. Blended stood up, then picked her way down the steps.

“I should like to take credit,” she said, “for your victory in what everyone assumed was an unwinnable trial. But it was not my tutelage, or your boldness, that won this day.”

Maya finally let go of Adolin’s arm. She seemed stronger than before, though her eyes were still scratched out. He could feel her curiosity, her … awareness. She looked up at him and nodded.

He nodded back. “Thank you.”

“Stren…” she whispered. “Stren. Be…”

“Strength before weakness.”

She nodded again, then turned her scratched-out gaze toward the ground, exhausted.

“I don’t intend to forget that you testified against me,” Adolin said to Blended. “You played both sides of this game.”

“It was the best way for me to win,” she said, inspecting Maya. “But you should know that I suggested to the honorspren elders that they use your deadeye as a witness. They were unaware of the legal provision that allowed them to speak for her.”

“Then her pain is your fault?” Adolin demanded.

“I did not suggest they treat her with such callousness,” Blended said. “Their act is their own, as is their shame. But admittedly, I knew how they might act. I wanted to know if a truth exists—the one you said to me.”

Adolin frowned, trying to remember.

“That she spoke,” Blended reminded him. “To you. That friendship exists between you. I sought proof, and found that her name—recorded in old documents of spren treaties—is as you said. A curious fact to find. Indeed.”

Blended strolled around Adolin and studied Maya’s face. “Still scratched out…” she said. “Though a bond between you is.”

“I’m … no Radiant,” Adolin said.

“No. That is certain.” Maya met Blended’s gaze. “But something is happening. I must leave this place at last and return to the inkspren. If the words this deadeye spoke are…”

“If what she said is true,” Adolin said, “then you have no further excuse for refusing humankind the bonds they need.”

“Don’t we?” Blended asked. “For centuries, my kind told ourselves an easy lie, yes. That humans had been selfish. That humans had murdered. But easy answers often are, so we can be excused.

“This truth, though, means a greater problem is. Thousands of spren chose death instead of letting the Radiants continue. Does this not worry you more? They truly believed that—as humans claimed at the time—Surgebinding would destroy the world. That the solution was to end the orders of Radiants. Suddenly, at the cost of many lives.”

“Did you know the full cost, Maya?” Adolin asked, the question suddenly occurring to him. “Did you