Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,576

black and tightly curled, along with her vibrant round face and dark skin. She had another shape as well. Many of them, but one deeper and truer than the others.

“Do you understand now?” she asked him.

“You needed someone who could tempt the power,” Taravangian said, his light gleaming like gold. “But also someone who could control it. I asked for the capacity to save the world. I thought it was the intelligence, but later wondered if it was the ability to feel. In the end, it was both. You were preparing me for this.”

“Odium’s power is the most dangerous of the sixteen,” she said. “It ruled Rayse, driving him to destroy. It will rule you too, if you let it.”

“They showed you this possibility, I assume,” Taravangian said, looking at infinity. “But this isn’t nearly as … certain as I imagined it. It shows you things that can happen, but not the hearts of those who act. How did you dare try something like this? How did you know I’d be up to the challenge?”

“I didn’t,” she said. “I couldn’t. You were heading this direction—all I could do was hope that if you succeeded, my gift would work. That I had changed you into someone who could bear this power with honor.”

Such power. Such incredible power. Taravangian peered into infinity. He’d wanted to save his city, and had succeeded. After that, he’d wanted to save Roshar. He could do that now. He could end this war. Storms, Dalinar and Odium’s contract—which bound Taravangian just as soundly—would do that already.

But … beyond that, what of the entire cosmere? He couldn’t see that far yet. Perhaps he would eventually be able to. But he did know his predecessor’s plans, and had access to some of his knowledge. So Taravangian knew the cosmere was in chaos. Ruled by fools. Presided over by broken gods.

There was so much to do. He sorted through Odium’s previous plans and saw all their flaws. How had he let himself be maneuvered into this particular deal with Dalinar? How had he let himself rely so much upon a contest of champions? Didn’t he know? The way to win was to make sure that, no matter the outcome, you were satisfied. Odium should never have entered a deal he could not absolutely control.

It can still be done, Taravangian realized, seeing the possibilities—so subtle—that his predecessor had missed. Yes … Dalinar has set himself up … to fail. I can beat him.

“Taravangian,” Cultivation said, holding her hand out to him. “Come. Let me teach you about what you’ve been given. I realize the power is overwhelming, but you can control it. You can do better than Rayse ever did.”

He smiled and took her hand. Inside, he exulted.

Oh, you wonderful creature, he thought. You have no idea what you have done.

He was finally free of the frailties of body and position that had always controlled and defined him. He finally had the freedom to do what he’d desired.

And now, Taravangian was going to save them all.

Yes, I look forward to ruling the humans.

—Musings of El, on the first of the Final Ten Days

Shallan sat by candlelight, writing quietly in her notebook. Adolin pulled his chair up beside her. “She looks better,” he said, “than she did when I saw her in the market. But I don’t know, Shallan.”

Shallan put down the pen, then took his hands, glancing to the side where—in their little chamber in Lasting Integrity—her first spren sat on a chair, Pattern standing beside her and humming. Had the limp fibers of her head pattern straightened?

In talking with Pattern, they’d decided upon an Alethi name for Shallan’s previous Cryptic. One that fit, best they could tell, with the meaning of her individual pattern.

“Testament does seem better, Adolin,” Shallan said. “Thank you for speaking with her.”

Maya sat on the floor, cross-legged, in a kind of warrior’s pose. She hadn’t recovered completely, but she was improved. And though she still didn’t say much, Shallan doubted many beings—human or spren—had ever spoken words quite so valuable as Maya had at the trial. One might say, by simple economics, that Maya was one of the best orators who ever existed. If you aren’t going to say much, then you might as well make what you do say mean something.

It gave them hope that whatever Shallan had done to Testament could also be repaired.

“I’ll try to explain everything Maya and I have done,” Adolin said as honorspren bells rang somewhere near. “But the truth