Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,567

had bled Dalinar, had given him the strength to defy Odium. All this time, he’d been asking what a god could possibly fear, but the answer was obvious. Odium feared men who would not obey him.

He feared Dalinar.

“Ishar told me some curious things this latest visit,” Dalinar said. “He gave me a book with secrets in it. He is not as mad as I feared, Odium. He showed me my Connection to you, and explained how limited you are. Then he proved to me that a Bondsmith unchained is capable of incredible feats.” He looked at the ancient being. “You are a god. You hold vast powers, yet they bind you as much as they free you. Tell me, what do you think of a human bearing the weight of a god’s powers, but without that god’s restrictions?”

“The power will bind you eventually, as it has me,” Odium said. “You don’t understand a fraction of the things you pretend to, Dalinar.”

Yet you’re afraid of me, Dalinar thought. Of the idea that I might fully come into my power. That you’re losing control of your plans.

Perhaps Dalinar’s errand to Tukar hadn’t been a failure. He hadn’t gained Ishar’s wisdom, but so long as Odium thought he had …

Bless you, Renarin, Dalinar thought. For making my life unpredictable to this being. For letting me bluff.

“We made an agreement,” Odium said. “A contest of champions. We never set terms.”

“I have terms,” Dalinar said. “On my desk. A single sheet of paper.”

Odium waved his hand and the words began appearing—written as if in glowing golden ink—in the sky before them. Enormous, intimidating.

“You didn’t write this,” Odium said, his eyes narrowing. “Nor did that Elsecaller.” The light grew more vibrant beneath Odium’s skin, and Dalinar could feel its heat—like that of a sun—rising. Making his skin burn.

Anger. Deep anger, white hot. It was consuming Odium. His control was slipping.

“Cephandrius,” Odium spat. “Ever the rat. No matter where I go, there he is, scratching in the wall. Burrowing into my strongholds. He could have been a god, yet he insists on living in the dirt.”

“Do you accept these terms?” Dalinar asked.

“By this, if my champion wins,” Odium said, “then Roshar is mine? Completely and utterly. And if yours wins, I withdraw for a millennium?”

“Yes. But what if you break your word? You’ve delayed longer than you should have. What if you refuse to send a champion?”

“I cannot break my word,” Odium said, the heat increasing. “I basically am incapable of it.”

“Basically?” Dalinar pressed. “What happens, Odium, if you break your word.”

“Then the contract is void, and I am in your power. Same, but reversed, if you break the contract. You would be in my power, and the restrictions Honor placed upon me—chaining me to the Rosharan system and preventing me from using my powers on most individuals—would be void. But that is not going to happen, and I am not going to break my word. Because if I did, it would create a hole in my soul—which would let Cultivation kill me.

“I am no fool, and you are a man of honor. We will both approach this contest in good faith, Dalinar. This isn’t some deal with a Voidbringer from your myths, where one tricks the other with some silly twist of language. A willing champion from each of us and a fight to the death. They will meet on the top of Urithiru. No tricks, no lies.”

“Very well,” Dalinar said. “But as the terms state, if your champion is defeated, it isn’t only you who must withdraw for a thousand years. The Fused must go with you, locked away again, as well as the spren that make Regals. No more forms of power. No more Voidspren.”

The light pulsed inside Odium and he turned his eyes back toward the horizon. “I … cannot agree to this.”

“The terms are simple,” Dalinar said. “If you—”

“I said I cannot agree,” Odium said. “The Everstorm has changed everything, and Cephandrius should have realized this. Singers can adopt Regal forms powered by the Everstorm. The Fused are free now; they can be reborn without my intervention. The Oathpact could have imprisoned them, but it is now defunct. I am literally unable to do as you ask, not without destroying myself in the process.”

“Then we cannot have an accommodation,” Dalinar said. “Because I’m certainly not going to agree to anything less.”

“And if I agreed to less?”

Dalinar frowned, uncertain, his mind muddled from fatigue. The creature was going to try to trick him.