Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,53

technically acute.”

She carefully slid the stone out. Inside, like the mythical gemstone cache from a bedtime tale, she found a small notebook. She glanced up and checked whether Gaz and Red were still in the other room. They were.

Damnation, she has me distrusting my own agents, Shallan thought, slipping the notebook into her safepouch and replacing the stone. Maybe Ialai’s only plan had been to sow chaos, distrust. But … Shallan couldn’t entirely accept that theory, not with how haunted Ialai had seemed. It wasn’t hard to believe the Ghostbloods had been hunting her; Mraize had infiltrated Amaram and Ialai’s inner circle a year ago, but hadn’t gone with them when they’d fled Urithiru.

Though Shallan itched to peek through the notebook, Gaz and Red emerged with a pillowcase full of notes and letters. “If there’s anything more in there,” Gaz said, thumbing over his shoulder, “we can’t find it.”

“It will have to do,” Shallan said as Adolin waved her to join him. “Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

Kaladin hesitated, spear held toward Moash’s throat. He could end the man. Should end the man. Why did he hesitate?

Moash … had been his friend. They’d spent hours by the fire, talking about their lives. Kaladin had opened his heart to this man, in ways he hadn’t to most of the others. He’d told Moash, like Teft and Rock, of Tien. Of Roshone. Of his fears.

Moash wasn’t just a friend though. He was beyond that a member of Bridge Four. Kaladin had sworn to the storms and the heavens above—if anyone was there watching—that he’d protect those men.

Kaladin had failed Moash. As soundly as he’d failed Dunny, Mart, and Jaks. And of them all, losing Moash hurt the most. Because in those callous eyes, Kaladin saw himself.

“You bastard,” Kaladin hissed.

“You deny that I was justified?” Moash kicked at Roshone’s body. “You know what he did. You know what he cost me.”

“You killed Elhokar for that crime!”

“Because he deserved it, like this one did.” Moash shook his head. “I did this for you too, Kal. You would let your brother’s soul cry into the storms, unavenged?”

“Don’t you dare speak of Tien!” Kaladin shouted. He felt himself slipping, losing control. It happened whenever he thought of Moash, of King Elhokar dying, of failing the people of Kholinar and the men of the Wall Guard.

“You claim justice?” Kaladin demanded, waving toward the corpses chained to the wall. “What about Jeber and that other man. You killed them for justice?”

“For mercy,” Moash said. “Better a quick death than to leave them to die, forgotten.”

“You could have set them free!” Kaladin’s hands were sweaty on his weapon, and his mind … his mind wouldn’t think straight. His Stormlight was running low, almost out.

Kaladin, Syl said. Let’s leave.

“We have to deal with him,” Kaladin whispered. “I have to … have to…”

What? Kill Moash while he stood defenseless? This was a man Kaladin was supposed to protect. To save …

“They’re going to die, you know,” Moash said softly.

“Shut up.”

“Everyone you love, everyone you think you can protect. They’re all going to die anyway. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I said shut up!” Kaladin shouted.

Moash stepped toward the spear, dropping his hands to his sides as he took a second step.

Kaladin, strangely, felt himself shying away. He’d been so tired lately, and while he tried to ignore it—tried to keep going—his fatigue seemed a sudden weight. Kaladin had used a lot of his Stormlight fighting, then getting through the fire.

It ran out right then, and he deflated. The numbness he’d been shoving down this entire battle flooded into him. The exhaustion.

Beyond Moash, the distant fire crackled and snapped. Far off, a loud crashing crunch echoed through the tunnel: the kitchen ceiling finally collapsing. Bits of burning wood tumbled down the tunnel, the embers fading to darkness.

“Do you remember the chasm, Kal?” Moash whispered. “In the rain that night? Standing there, looking down into the darkness, and knowing it was your sole release? You knew it then. You try to pretend you’ve forgotten. But you know. As sure as the storms will come. As sure as every lighteyes will lie. There is only one answer. One path. One result.”

“No…” Kaladin whispered.

“I’ve found the better way,” Moash said. “I feel no guilt. I’ve given it away, and in so doing became the person I could always have become—if I hadn’t been restrained.”

“You’ve become a monster.”

“I can take away the pain, Kal. Isn’t that what you want? An end to your suffering?”

Kaladin