“Yes…” he said. “And we could use the weight of people traveling back down to help recharge some of the weights.… Do you want us to make true lifts, or continue with the personal lift device, as Tomor designed? He’s excited by the idea.…”
“Do both,” Navani suggested. “Let him continue on the single-person device, but suggest he shape it like a crossbow you point somewhere, rather than a box with a handle. Make it look interesting, and people will be more interested. One of the tricks of fabrial science.”
“Yes … I see, Brightness.”
She checked the clock she wore in the fabrial housing on her left arm. Storms. It was almost time for the meeting of monarchs. It wouldn’t do for her to be late after the number of times she’d chided Dalinar for ignoring his clock.
“See where your imagination takes you,” she repeated to Falilar. “You’ve spent years building bridges to span chasms. Let’s learn how to span the sky.”
“It will be done,” he said, taking the box. “This is genius, Brightness. Truly.”
She smiled. They liked to say that, and she appreciated the sentiment. The truth was, she merely knew how to harness the genius of others—as she was hoping to harness the storm.
* * *
She arrived at the meeting with time to spare, fortunately. It was held in a chamber near the top of the tower, where Dalinar had made each monarch carry their own seat months ago.
She remembered the tension of those initial meetings, each member speaking carefully—anxiously, as if a whitespine slumbered nearby. These days, the room was loud and full of chatter. She knew most of the ministers and functionaries by name, and asked after their families. She caught sight of Dalinar chatting amiably with Queen Fen and Kmakl.
It was remarkable. In another time, a united coalition of Alethi, Veden, Thaylen, and Azish forces would have been the most incredible thing to have happened in generations. Unfortunately, it was only possible in response to greater marvels—and threats.
Still, she couldn’t help feeling optimistic as she chatted. Right up until she turned around and came face-to-face with Taravangian.
The kindly-looking old man had regrown his wispy beard and mustache—of a style that was reminiscent of old scholars from ancient paintings. One might easily imagine this robed figure as some guru sitting in a shrine, pontificating about the nature of storms and the souls of men.
“Ah, Brightness,” he said. “I have yet to congratulate you on the success of your flying ship. I am eager to see the schematics once you feel comfortable sharing them.”
Navani nodded. Gone was the feigned innocence, the pretended stupidity, that Taravangian had maintained for so long. A lesser man might have persisted stubbornly in his lies. To his credit, once the Assassin in White had joined Dalinar, Taravangian had dropped the act and immediately slipped into a new role: that of a political genius.
“How go the troubles at home, Taravangian?” Navani asked.
“We have reached agreements,” Taravangian said. “As I suspect you already know, Brightness. I have chosen my new heir from Veden stock, ratified by the highprinces, and made provisions for Kharbranth to go to my daughter. For now, the Vedens see the truth: We cannot squabble over details during an invasion.”
“That is well,” she said, trying—and failing—to keep the coldness from her voice. “A pity we don’t have access to the military minds of the Veden elite, not to mention their best young soldiers. All sent to their graves in a pointless civil war mere months before the coming of the Everstorm.”
“Do you think, Brightness,” Taravangian said, “that the Veden king would have accepted Dalinar’s proposals of unification? Do you really think that old Hanavanar—the paranoid man who spent years playing his own highprinces against one another—would ever have joined this coalition? His death might well have been the best thing that ever happened to Alethkar. Think on that, Brightness, before your accusations set the room aflame.”
He was correct, unfortunately. It was unlikely the late king of Jah Keved would ever have listened to Dalinar—the Vedens had deep-seated grudges with the Blackthorn. The coalition’s early days had depended greatly upon the fact that Taravangian had joined it, bringing the might of a broken—but still formidable—Jah Keved.
“It might be easier to accept your goodwill, Your Majesty,” Navani said, “if you hadn’t tried to undermine my husband by revealing sensitive information to the coalition.”
Taravangian stepped close, and a part of Navani panicked. This man terrified her, she realized. Her instincts toward him were the same she might have toward an enemy soldier with a sword. Yet at the end of the day, a single man with a sword was no threat to kingdoms. This man had fooled the smartest people in the world. He had conned his way into Dalinar’s inner circle. He had played them for fools, all while seizing the throne of Jah Keved. And everyone had praised him.
That was true danger.
She forced herself not to shy away as he leaned in close; he didn’t seem to intend the maneuver to be threatening. He was shorter than she was, and had no physical presence with which to impose. Instead he spoke softly. “Everything I’ve done was in the name of protecting humankind. Every step I’ve taken, every ploy I’ve devised, every pain I’ve suffered. It was all done to protect our future.
“I could point out that your own husbands—both of them—committed crimes that far outweigh mine. I ordered the murder of a handful of tyrants, but I burned no cities. Yes, the lighteyes of Jah Keved turned on one another once their king was dead, but I did not force them. Those deaths are not my burden.
“All of this is immaterial, however. Because I would have burned villages to prevent what was coming. I would have sent the Vedens into chaos. No matter the cost, I would have paid it. Know this. If humankind survives the new storm, it will be because of the actions I took. I stand by them.”
He stepped back, leaving her trembling. Something about his intensity, the confidence of his words, left her speechless.
“I truly am impressed by your discoveries,” he said. “We all benefit from what you’ve accomplished. Perhaps in future years few will think to thank you, but I do so now.” He bowed to her, then walked over to take his seat, a lonely man who no longer brought attendants with him to these meetings.
Dangerous, a part of her thought again. And incredible. Yes, most men would have denied the accusations. Taravangian had leaned into them, taken ownership of them.
If mankind was truly fighting for its very survival, could any of them turn away the aid of the man who had expertly seized the throne of a kingdom far more powerful than his lowly city-state? She doubted Dalinar would have thought twice about Taravangian—even with the assassinations exposed—if not for one difficult question.
Was Taravangian working for the enemy? They risked the future of the world itself on the answer.
Navani found her seat as Noura—the head Azish vizier—called the meeting to order. She generally led the meetings these days; everyone responded well to her calm air of wisdom. The primary order of business was to discuss Dalinar’s proposal for making a large offensive into Emul, crushing the enemy troops there up against the god-priest of Tukar. Noura had him stand up to outline the proposal, though Jasnah’s scribes had sent detailed explanations to everyone in advance.
Navani let her mind wander, her thoughts circling around the phantom spanreed author. You must stop making this new kind of fabrial.… Perhaps they meant the ones using aluminum?
Soon enough Dalinar finished his proposal, opening the floor to discussion by the other monarchs. As expected, the young Azish Prime Aqasix was the first to respond. Yanagawn was looking more and more like an emperor each day, as the rest of his body was growing into the lanky height puberty had given him. He stood up, speaking for himself in the meeting—something he preferred to do, despite Azish custom.
“We were delighted to receive this proposal, Dalinar,” the Prime said in excellent Alethi. He’d likely prepared
this speech ahead of time, so he wouldn’t make mistakes. “And we thank Her Majesty Jasnah Kholin for her thorough written explanations of its merits. As you can likely guess, we needed no persuasion to accept this plan.”
He gestured toward the Emuli prime, a man living—as most of the Alethi did—in exile. The coalition had promised him a restored Emul in the past, but had so far been unable to deliver.
“The union of Makabaki states has discussed already, and we support this proposal wholeheartedly,” Yanagawn said. “It is bold and decisive. We will lend it our every resource.”
No surprise there, Navani thought. But Taravangian will oppose it. The old schemer had always pushed them to invest more heavily into the fight on his borders. The Mink had been clear in his final report; he feared Taravangian’s actions were a ploy to get Dalinar to overextend into Alethkar. Additionally, Taravangian had historically taken the role of the more cautious, conservative one in the council, and as such, had good reason to oppose committing to Emul.
The wildcard would be Queen Fen and the Thaylens. She wore a bright patterned skirt today, decidedly not of Vorin fashion, and the white ringlets of her eyebrows bounced as she looked from Jasnah to Dalinar, thoughtful. Most of the room seemed to be able to read how this would play out. Taravangian disagreeing, Azir supporting. So how would Fen—
“If I may speak,” Taravangian said, standing. “I would like to applaud this bold and wonderful proposal. Jah Keved and Kharbranth support it wholeheartedly. I have asked my generals how we might best lend our aid, and we can deliver twenty thousand troops to march immediately through the Oathgates for deployment into Emul.”
What? Navani thought. He supported the proposal?
Storms. What had they missed? Why would he be so willing to pull troops away from his border now, after a year of insisting he couldn’t spare even a handful? He’d always used the ubiquity of his medical support to cloud his miserly troop deployments.
Had he realized Dalinar wasn’t going to give an opportunity for betrayal? Was this something else?
“We are grateful for your support, Taravangian,” Yanagawn said. “Dalinar, that is two for your proposal. Three with you, and four, assuming your niece is already persuaded. The only one we await is Her Majesty.” He turned to Fen.
“Her Majesty,” Fen said, “is storming baffled. When’s the last time the lot of us all agreed on something?”
“We all vote favor for lunching break,” Yanagawn said, smiling and deviating from his script. “Usually.”
“Well, that’s the truth.” Fen leaned back in her seat. “You surprised me with this one, Dalinar. I knew you were tacking toward some goal, but I thought for sure you would insist on trying to recapture your homeland. This general you recovered, he changed your mind, didn’t he?”
Dalinar nodded. “He would like me to move that Herdaz be granted a seat on our council.”
“Herdaz is no more,” Fen said. “But I suppose the same could be said for Alethkar. I suggest that if his help proves useful in Emul, we grant such a request. For now, how do we proceed? I suspect an attack into Emul will provoke the enemy navy to finally come out and engage us, so I’ll need to plan for a blockade. Tukar has a long coast; that’s going to be a challenge. Stormblessed, I suppose we can count on Windrunner patrols to help warn us of…”
Fen trailed off, twisting around toward the small group of Radiants at the side of the room. Each Radiant order usually sent at least one representative. Taravangian’s Dustbringer was there as usual, and Lift was likely somewhere, judging from the state of the snack table—though a few other Edgedancers were sitting at the rear as well.
Normally Kaladin would be there, leaning against the wall, looming like a stormcloud. No longer. Instead Sigzil stepped forward, newly minted as companylord. It was an interesting move, elevating a foreigner—but it was a freedom Dalinar gained by no longer being directly tied to Alethkar. In this tower, ethnicity was secondary to Radiant bonds.
Sigzil didn’t have the presence of his highmarshal; he always seemed too … fiddly to Navani. He cleared his throat, sounding uncomfortable in his new role. “You will have Windrunner support, Your Majesty. The enemy air troops might not want to fly in from Iri or Alethkar, as both routes would require them to traverse our lands. The Heavenly Ones might try to loop around and come in from the ocean. Plus, they’ve been employing Skybreakers frequently in the region—so we’ll need to contend with them.”
“Good,” Fen said. “Where’s Stormblessed?”
“Leave of absence, Your Majesty. He was wounded recently.”
“What kind of wound can bring down a Windrunner?” Fen snapped. “Don’t you regrow body parts?”
“Um, yes, Your Majesty. The highmarshal is recovering from a different kind of wound.”
She grunted, looking over at Dalinar. “Well, the guilds of Thaylenah agree to this plan. If we retake Emul and Tukar, it will give us absolute dominance of the Southern Depths. You couldn’t ask for a better staging platform for eventually recovering Alethkar. You’re wise, Blackthorn, to delay striking for your homeland in favor of the tactically sound move.”
“It was a difficult decision, Fen,” Navani said. “One we made only after exploring every other option.” And Taravangian agreeing to it has me worried.
“It highlights another problem though,” Fen said. “We need more Windrunners. Kmakl has been raving about your flying fortress—I’ll have you know, I haven’t seen him this smitten since our first days courting. But the enemy has both Fused and Skybreakers, and you can’t protect a ship like that without air support. Stormfather help us if enemies in the air catch one of our ocean fleets unprotected.”
“We’ve been working on a solution,” Dalinar promised. “It is a … difficult problem. Spren can be even more stubborn than men.”
“Makes sense,” Fen said. “I’ve never met a wind or current that would change course because I shouted at them.”
Someone cleared their throat, and Navani was surprised to see Sigzil stepping forward again. “I’ve been speaking with my spren, Your Majesty, and I might be able to offer a potential solution to this problem. I believe we should send an envoy to the honorspren.”
Navani leaned forward in her seat. “What kind of envoy?”
“The honorspren can be a … touchy group,” Sigzil explained. “Many are not as carefree as our initial interactions with them led us to believe. Among spren, they are some of the closest in spirit and intent to the god Honor. While obviously individuals will vary in personality, there is a general feeling of discontent—well, insult—among them regarding humans.”
Sigzil surveyed the crowd, and could plainly see that many of them weren’t following him. He took a deep breath. “Here, let me say it this way. Pretend there was a kingdom you wanted to be our ally in this war. Except we betrayed them a few generations ago in a similar alliance. Would we be surprised that they refused to help us now?”
Navani found herself nodding.
“So, you’re saying we need to repair relations,” Fen said, “for something that happened thousands of years ago?”
“Your Majesty,” Sigzil said, “with respect, the Recreance is ancient history to us—but to the spren it was only a few generations ago. The honorspren are upset; they feel their trust was betrayed. In their eyes, we never addressed what we did to them. For lack of a better term, their honor was offended.”
Dalinar leaned forward in his seat. “Soldier, you’re saying they want us to go to them begging? If Odium claims this land, they’ll suffer as much as we will!”
“I know that, sir,” Sigzil said. “You don’t have to persuade me. But again, think of a nation your ancestors offended, but whose resources you now need. Wouldn’t you at least send an envoy with an official apology?” He shrugged. “I can’t promise it will work, but my advice is that we try.”
Navani nodded again. She’d usually ignored this man because he acted so much like … well, a scribe. The kind of nitpic
ky person who often created more work for others. She now recognized that was unfair. She had found wisdom in the efforts of scholars others thought to be too focused on details.
It’s because he’s a man, she thought. And a soldier, not an ardent. He didn’t act like the other Windrunners, so she’d dismissed him. Not a good look, Navani, she thought at herself. For one who claims to be a patron of the thoughtful.
“This man speaks wisdom,” she said to the others. “We have been presumptuous in regards to the spren.”
“Can we send you, Radiant?” Fen asked Sigzil. “You seem to understand their mindset.”
Sigzil grimaced. “That might be a bad idea. We Windrunners … we’re acting in defiance of honorspren law. We’d make the worst envoys, because of … well, they don’t much like Kaladin, to be honest. If one of us showed up at their fortress, they might try to arrest us.
“My advice is to send a small but important contingent of other Radiants. Specifically, Radiants who have bonded spren whose relatives approve of what we’re doing. They can make arguments on our behalf.”
“That rules me out,” Jasnah said. “The other inkspren are generally opposed to what Ivory did in bonding with me.” She glanced to Renarin, who sat at the rear of the room, behind his brother. He glanced up in a panic, his puzzle box frozen in his hands. “We probably,” Jasnah continued, “don’t want to send Renarin either. Considering his … special circumstances.”
“An Edgedancer, then?” Dalinar said. “The cultivationspren have generally embraced our new order of Radiants. I believe some of those who bonded Radiants are regarded highly in Shadesmar.”
True to Navani’s earlier guess, Lift emerged from underneath the table—though she hit her head climbing out, then glared at the table. The Reshi girl—well, teen—barely fit in spaces like that any longer, and seemed able to hit her elbows on every piece of furniture she passed.
Rhythm of War (9781429952040) Page 33
