he had three moles on his cheek. He nodded to Hesina and Lirin. Almost a bow. As far as he could go without provoking a reaction from the watching Fused, who didn’t like such signs of respect shown to other humans.
“I know you,” Lirin said, narrowing his eyes at the man. “You’re one of the refugees who came to Hearthstone.”
“I’m Noril, sir,” the man said. “You sent me to the ardents, on suicide watch. Thank you for trying to help.”
“Well,” Lirin said, “you seem to be doing better.”
“Depends on the day, sir,” Noril said. “But I’d say I’m better than I was when you met me.”
Lirin glanced at Hesina, who squeezed his hand and gestured her chin toward Noril’s forehead and the glyph.
“Why do you wear that glyph?” Lirin asked.
“To honor Stormblessed, who still fights.” Noril nodded, as if to himself. “I’ll be ready when he calls for me, sir.”
“Don’t you see the irony in that?” Lirin asked. “It was fighting in your homeland that made you flee, and therefore get into all the trouble you’ve faced. Fighting lost you everything. If people would stop with this nonsense, I would have to see far fewer men with battle shock like yours.”
Noril settled down on his stool and used his hand to stir his cup of black paint, which he placed between his knees. “Suppose you’re right, sir. Can’t argue with a surgeon about the nonsense we do. But sir, do you know why I get up each day?”
Lirin shook his head.
“It’s hard sometimes,” Noril said, stirring. “Coming awake means leaving the nothingness, you know? Remembering the pain. But then I think, ‘Well, he gets up.’”
“You mean Kaladin?” Lirin asked.
“Yes, sir,” Noril said. “He’s got the emptiness, bad as I do. I can see it in him. We all can. But he gets up anyway. We’re trapped in here, and we all want to do something to help. We can’t, but somehow he can.
“And you know, I’ve listened to ardents talk. I’ve been poked and prodded. I’ve been stuck in the dark. None of that worked as well as knowing this one thing, sir. He still gets up. He still fights. So I figure … I figure I can too.”
Hesina squeezed Lirin’s hand again, pulling him away as she thanked Noril with a smile.
“You want me to acknowledge,” Lirin whispered, “that what Kaladin’s doing is helping that man, while my surgeon’s treatments could have done nothing.”
“You said you’d listen,” she said. “You asked what I want of you? I want you to talk to them, Lirin. The people in this room. Don’t challenge them. Don’t argue with them. Simply ask them why they wear that glyph. And see them, Lirin. Please.”
She left him standing there and returned to her maps. Trusting in him, and the man she knew he was.
Adin was going to be a Windrunner someday.
He had it all figured out. Yes, he was just a potter’s son, and spent his days learning how to turn crem into plates. But the highmarshal himself had once been a darkeyed boy from an unknown village. The spren didn’t just pick kings and queens. They watched everyone, looking for warriors.
So, as he followed his father through the halls of Urithiru, Adin found opportunities to glare at the invaders. Many might have said that at thirteen, he was too young to become a Radiant. But he knew for a fact there was a girl who had been chosen when she was younger than him. He had seen her leaving food out for old Gavam, the widow who sometimes forgot to collect her rations.
You had to be brave, even when you thought nobody was watching. That was what the spren wanted. They didn’t care how old you were, if your eyes were dark, or if the bowls you made were lopsided. They wanted you to be brave.
Glaring at singers wasn’t much. He knew he could—and would have to—do more. When the time was right. And he couldn’t let the enemy catch him being unruly. So for now, he stepped to the side of the corridor with his father and let the large group of warforms pass. He dutifully stood there, his father’s hand on his shoulder, their heads bowed.
But as soon as the warforms had passed, Adin looked up. And he glared after them, angry as he could be.
He wasn’t the only one. He caught Shar, the seamstress’s daughter, glaring too. Well, her uncle was a Windrunner, so maybe she figured she had a better