Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,571

meet again,” Navani said. “You will be reborn.”

“No. If I … die … I will return … mad. My soul … is burned … almost all away.… Do not … Please … Please…”

“What, then?” Navani said.

“This new Light … works. My daughter … is truly gone. So I made … more … anti … anti…”

“Anti-Voidlight. Where?”

Raboniel rocked her head to the side, toward her desk, situated in the hallway near the opening to the crystal pillar room. Navani rose and searched through the drawers, finding a black sack containing a diamond filled with the precious, terrible Light.

She returned and affixed the diamond to the dagger, which was wet with Moash’s blood. After cleaning it and reversing the metal strip, she knelt beside Raboniel.

“Are you sure?” Navani asked.

Raboniel nodded. Her hand twitched, and Navani reached over and held it, which made the Fused relax.

“I … have done … what I wished. Odium … is worried. He may … allow … an ending.…”

“Thank you,” Navani said softly.

“I never … thought … I would be sane … at the end.…”

Navani raised the dagger. And for the first time, she wondered if she was strong enough for this.

“I do wish…” Raboniel said, “I could hear … rhythms … again.…”

“Then sing with me,” Navani said, and began to sing Honor’s tone.

The Fused smiled, then managed a weak hum to Odium’s tone. Navani modulated her tone, lowering her voice, until the two snapped together in harmony one last time.

Navani positioned the dagger above the wound in Raboniel’s breast.

“End it … Navani…” Raboniel whispered, letting the song cease. “Make sure they let it all … end.”

“I will,” she whispered back, then—humming her best, holding the hand of a former immortal—Navani thrust the dagger in deep. Raboniel’s nerves had mostly been severed, so she didn’t spasm as her daughter had. Her eyes went a glassy marble white, and a breath escaped her lips—black smoke as her insides burned away. Navani kept humming until the smoke dissipated.

You have performed a kindness, the Sibling said in her head.

“I feel awful.”

That is part of the kindness.

“I am sorry,” Navani said, “for discovering this Light. It will let spren be killed.”

It was coming to us, the Sibling said. Consequences once chased only humans. With the Recreance, the consequences became ours as well. You have simply sealed that truth as eternal.

Navani pressed her forehead against Raboniel’s as the Fused had done for her daughter. Then she rose, surrounded by exhaustionspren. Storms. Without the Towerlight infusing her, her fatigue returned. How long had it been since she’d slept?

Too long. But today, she needed to be a queen. She tucked the dagger away—it was too valuable to simply leave lying around—and took her copy of Rhythm of War under her arm.

She left a note on Raboniel’s corpse, just in case. Do not dispose of this hero’s body without first consulting the queen.

Then she went to create order from the chaos of a tower suddenly set free.

* * *

Taravangian awoke late in the day. He barely remembered falling asleep. He barely … could …

Could barely … think.

He was stupid. Stupider than he’d ever been before.

That made him weep. Stupid weeping. He cried and cried, overwhelmed by emotion and shamespren. A sense of failure. Of anger at himself. He lay there until hunger drove him to stand.

His thoughts were like crem. Thick. Slow. He stumbled down to the window, where they had left his basket of food. Trembling, he clutched it, weeping at his hunger. It seemed so strong. And storms, he drew so many spren when stupid.

He sat beside his fake hearth, and couldn’t help wishing that Dalinar could be there with him. How grand that had been. To have a friend. A real friend who understood him. He trembled at the idea, then began digging in the basket.

He stopped as he found a note. Written by Renarin Kholin, sealed by his signet. Taravangian sounded out each glyph. It took forever—drawing a fleet of concentrationspren like ripples in the air—for him to figure out what it said.

Two words. I’m sorry. Two gemstones, glowing brightly, were included with the note. What were these?

I’m sorry. Why say that? What had the boy seen? He knew his future wasn’t to be trusted. Other spren fled, and only fearspren attended him as he read those words. He needed to hide! He climbed off his chair and crawled to the corner.

He quivered there until he felt too hungry. He crawled over and began eating the flatbread in the basket. Then some