“There you are,” Ulim said, zipping down the hallway. He moved like lightning, crawling along the top of the stone—and he could vanish, making only certain people able to see him. “Why are you cringing like a child? Come on. We must be moving.”
She glanced around the corner. The guards had long since moved on. “I shouldn’t have to do this,” Venli hissed at him. “I shouldn’t have to expose myself.”
“Someone needs to carry the gemstones,” Ulim said. “So unless you want me to find someone else to be the greatest among your people, do what I say.”
Fine. She crept after him, though she’d lately found Ulim’s tone increasingly annoying. She disliked his crass, dismissive attitude. He’d better not abandon her again. He had claimed he needed to scout the way, but she was half convinced he wanted her to be discovered.
He led her up a stairwell. The Rhythm of Fortune blessed her, and she emerged onto the top floor without meeting any humans—though she did have to hide in the stairwell as more guards passed.
“Why must we come all the way up here!” she hissed after they passed. “Couldn’t your friend have brought the gemstones into the basement, where all the other listeners are?”
“I … lost contact with her,” Ulim admitted.
“You what?” Venli said.
He whirled on the floor, then the lightning rose up to form his little humanlike figure. “I haven’t heard from Axindweth in a few days. I’m certain it’s all right. We have a meeting point where she leaves things for me. The gemstones will be there.”
Venli hummed to Betrayal. How could he leave out such an important detail? She was sneaking through the human palace—jeopardizing the treaty—based on flawed information? Before she could demand more answers, however, Ulim turned back into a patch of energy on the floor and shot forward.
She had no choice but to scramble after him across the hallway, feeling terribly exposed. They should have brought Demid. She liked how he listened to what she said, and he always had a ready compliment. He’d enjoy sneaking about, and she’d feel braver with him along.
She wove through the hallways, certain she’d be discovered at any moment. Yet by some miracle, Ulim got her through to a small room with chamber pots scattered across the floor. She pulled out a gemstone and noted a hole in the floor on one side of the room—it looked like they dumped waste in here, pouring it into some foul cesspit several stories below.
This was her goal? A privy? She gagged, and was forced to start breathing through her mouth.
“Here,” Ulim said, crackling on the side of one of the chamber pots.
“So help me,” Venli said to Skepticism, “if I find human waste inside…”
She removed the lid. Fortunately, the interior was clean and empty save for a folded piece of paper.
Ulim pulsed to Exultation. He’d been worried, it seemed. Venli unfolded the paper, and knew the Alethi script well enough to figure out it was a list of cleaning instructions.
“It’s ciphered,” Ulim said. “Do you think we’d be so stupid as to leave notes in the open where anyone could read them? Let me interpret.…”
He formed into the shape of a human, standing on a table full of pots. She hated that he took a human form rather than that of a listener. He leaned forward, his eyes narrow.
“Bother,” he said.
“What?”
“Let me think, femalen,” he snapped.
“What does it say?”
“Axindweth says she’s been discovered,” he said. “She’s a very specific and rare kind of specialist—the details need not concern you—but there is apparently another of her kind in the palace. An agent for someone else. They found her and turned the human king against her. She’s decided to pull out.”
“… Pull out?” Venli said. “I don’t understand that phrasing.”
“She’s leaving! Or left. Perhaps days ago.”
“Left the palace?”
“The planet, you idiot.”
Ulim blurred, carapace-like barbs breaking his skin and jabbing out, then retracting. It seemed to happen to the beat of one of the new rhythms, perhaps Fury.
Ulim told her so little. Venli knew there was a way to travel from this world to the place the humans called Damnation. The land of the Voidspren. Many thousands of spren waited there to help her people, but they couldn’t get free without some Surge or power. Something to … pull them across the void between worlds.
So what did this mean? Had his agent returned to the world Ulim had come from? Or had she gone someplace else? Was she gone for good? How were they going to transfer spren across to this land, to build power for the storm?
Most importantly, did Venli want that to happen? He’d promised her forms of power, but she’d assumed that she’d bring this to the Five after frightening them with how powerful the humans were. Everything was moving so quickly, slipping out of her control. She almost demanded answers, but the way those spikes broke Ulim’s skin—the way he pulsed—made her remain quiet. He was a force of nature come alive. And the particular force he exhibited now was destructive.
Eventually his pulsing subsided. The spikes settled beneath his skin. He remained standing on the table, staring at the sheet of paper with the offending words.
“What do we do?” Venli finally asked.
“I don’t know. There is nothing here for us. I … I have to leave, see if I can find answers elsewhere.”
“Leave?” Venli said. “What about your promises? What about our plans?”
“We have no plans!” Ulim said, spinning on her. “You said coming here would intimidate your people. Is that happening? Because from what I’ve seen, they seem to be enjoying themselves! Planning to feast and laugh, maybe get into storming bed with the humans!”
Venli attuned Determination, and then it faded to Reconciliation. She had to admit it; her people weren’t intimidated, not like she was. Even Eshonai had grown more relaxed—not more worried—as they’d interacted with the humans. These days, Venli’s sister didn’t even wear warform.
Venli wanted to blame her alone, but the problems with the listeners were far bigger than Eshonai. No one else seemed to see what Venli did. They should have been terrified by all the parshmen—the enslaved singers—in the palace. Instead, Venli’s people seemed curious.
No one saw the threat Venli did. She didn’t understand, or believe, some of the things Ulim said. But in coming here, Venli realized for herself that the humans could not be trusted. If she didn’t do anything, it would be her people—her mother—enslaved to the humans.
Ulim formed into crackling lightning and zipped down the table leg and along the floor. She took a step after him, attuning the Terrors—but he was gone, out under the door. By the time she looked into the hall, he’d vanished.
She closed the door and found herself breathing heavily. She was alone in the enemy’s stronghold, having snuck into forbidden hallways. What should she do? What could she do?
Wait. Ulim would come back.
He didn’t though. And each moment she stood there attuned to the Terrors was more excruciating than the last. She had to strike out on her own. Perhaps she could sneak back the way she’d come? She ripped up the note, then dumped it out the shaft with the waste. She attuned Determination and slipped from the room.
“You there!”
She cringed, attuning Mourning. One hallway. She hadn’t been able to cross even one hallway.
A human soldier in a glistening breastplate marched up, a long, wicked weapon in his hand—a spear, but with an axe’s head.
“Why are you here?” he asked her in the Alethi tongue.
She played dumb, speaking in her own language. She pointed toward the steps. Perhaps if he thought she couldn’t speak Alethi, he’d simply let her go?
Instead he took her roughly by the arm and marched her along the hallway. Each time she tried to pull away he yanked harder, leading her down the steps and through this maze of a palace. He eventually depos
ited her in a room where several women were writing with spanreeds—Venli still wished her people knew how to make those. A gruff older soldier with a proper beard took reports.
“Found this one on the top floor,” the guard said, pushing Venli into a seat. “She was poking around in a suspicious way.”
“Does she speak Alethi?” asked the man with the beard.
“No, sir,” the man said. He saluted, then returned to his post.
Venli sat quietly, trying not to attune rhythms with too much dread. Surely this wouldn’t look too bad. She could complain she got lost. And wandered up several flights of stairs … And snuck past guards … When they’d been told several times to stay away …
When I find Ulim again, she thought, attuning Betrayal, I will … What? What could she do to a spren? What was she without him and his promises? She suddenly felt very, very small. She hated that feeling.
“You look like one of their scholars,” the older man said, his arms folded. “You really can’t speak Alethi? Or were you playing dumb?”
“I … was playing dumb.” She immediately regretted speaking. Why had she exposed herself?
The man grunted. Their version of attuning Amusement, she thought. “And what were you doing?”
“Looking for the privy.”
Dead flat stare. The human version of attuning Skepticism.
“I found it,” she said to Reconciliation. “Eventually. Room with all the pots.”
“I’m going to note this,” he said, nodding to one of the scribes, who began writing. “Your name?”
“Venli,” she said.
“If you were a human, I’d lock you up until someone came for you—or I’d give you to someone who could get me answers. But that treaty is being signed tonight. I don’t want to cause any incidents. Do you?”
“No, sir,” she said.
“Then how about this? You sit here, in this room with us, for the next four hours. Once the feast happens and the treaty is signed, we’ll see. Everything happens without a problem, and you can go in for the after-feast. Something goes wrong … well, then we’ll have another conversation, won’t we?”
Venli attuned Disappointment, but nothing was going to happen. She’d probably suffer nothing more than a talking-to from her sister. Part of her would rather be locked up.
She nodded anyway. In truth, she found the man’s actions surprisingly rational. Keeping her close would stop anything she might have planned—and if she truly was a lost guest, he wouldn’t be in any real trouble for holding her for a few hours.
She contemplated insisting she was too important for this. She discarded that idea. Caught so quickly after being abandoned by Ulim … Well, it was hard to keep pretending she was strong. The feeling of smallness persisted.
The soldier left her to go talk quietly to the women, and Venli made out some of their conversation. He had them report to other guard stations in the palace, informing them he’d picked up a wandering “Parshendi” and asking if anyone else had seen individuals entering forbidden or suspicious locations.
Venli found herself attuning Praise unexpectedly. It was … nice to be alone. Lately, Ulim had always been around. She began thinking about how she could clean this up. Go talk to the Five. Maybe—despite how much it hurt to admit it—go ask Eshonai for advice.
Unfortunately, Ulim soon zipped in through the open door as a trail of red lightning. She hummed Confusion, then Betrayal, as he moved up her chair leg and formed into a person on her armrest.
“We have a big problem,” Ulim said to her.
She hummed a little louder.
“Oh, get over yourself, girl,” he said. “Listen, there are Heralds in the palace tonight.”
“Heralds?” she whispered. “Here? They’re dead!”
“Hush!” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the humans. “They’re not dead. You have no idea how royally, colossally, incredibly ruined we are. I saw Shalash first and followed her—then ran across not only Kalak, but Nale. I think he saw me. He shouldn’t have been able to, but—”
A figure darkened the doorway to the guard post. The bearded soldier looked up. Venli turned slowly, attuning Anxiety. The newcomer was an imposing figure with deep brown skin and a pale mark on his cheek, almost like a listener might have as part of their skin pattern. He was in uniform, though it wasn’t of the cut the Alethi wore.
He looked at Venli, then pointedly at Ulim—who groaned. Then the man finally looked over at the soldier.
“Ambassador?” the guardsman asked. “What do you need?”
“I heard a report that you are holding one of the thinking parshmen here,” the newcomer said. “Is this her?”
“Yes,” the guardsman said. “But—”
“I request,” the man said, “to have this prisoner released into my care.”
“I don’t think I can do that, Ambassador,” the guardsman said, glancing at the scribes for confirmation. “You … I mean, that is a very unusual request.”
“This femalen is important to this night’s activities,” the man said. He stepped forward, placing something on the nearest scribe’s desk. “This is a seal of deputation. I have legal jurisdiction in this land, as granted by your king. You will authenticate it.”
“I’m not sure…” the scribe woman said.
“You will authenticate it,” the man repeated. Perfectly void of emotion or rhythm. He made Venli feel cold. Particularly as he turned toward her.
Behind him, the scribes began scribbling with their spanreeds. The newcomer blocked most of Venli’s view of them.
“Hello, Ulim,” the man said in a soft, steady voice.
“Um … hello, Nale,” the spren said. “I … um. I didn’t expect to see you here. Um, today. Anytime, actually … Ever … How is, ah, Shalash?”
“Small talk is unnecessary, Ulim,” Nale said. “We are not friends. You persist only because I cannot destroy spren.” The strange man affixed his unblinking gaze on Venli. “Listener. Do you know what this is?”
“Just another spren,” she said.
“You are wise,” Nale said. “He is just another spren, isn’t he? How long have you known him?”
Venli didn’t reply—and she saw Ulim pulse to Satisfaction. He did not want her speaking.
“Brightlord,” one of the scribes called. “It appears you are correct. You may requisition this prisoner. We were simply going to hold her until—”
“Thank you,” Nale said, taking his seal from the scribe, then walked out into the hall. “Follow, listener.”
Ulim hopped onto her shoulder and grabbed hold of her hair. “Go ahead,” he whispered. “But don’t tell him anything. I am in so much trouble.…”
Venli followed the strange man from the guard room. She’d never seen a human that shade before, though it wasn’t a true onyx like a listener pattern. This was more the color of a rockbud shell.
“How many are there?” Nale asked her. “Spren like him? How many have returned?”
“We—” Ulim began.
“I would hear the listener,” Nale said.
She’d rarely known Ulim to be quiet, and he rarely did as she asked. At this man’s rebuke, however, Ulim fell immediately silent. Ulim was frightened of this being. So did that mean the songs about them were true?
A Herald. Alive.
Ulim was right. The Return had begun. The humans would soon be marching to destroy her people. It was the only conclusion she could come to, based on her knowledge of the songs. And based on meeting this man.
Storms. Her people needed forms of power.
And to get them, she somehow had to navigate this conversation without being murdered by this creature.
“Answer my question,” the Herald said. “How many spren like him are there? How many Voidspren have returned?”
“I have seen only this one,” Venli said.
“It is impossible that he has remained on Roshar all these years,” Nale said. “It has been … a long time, I believe.
Generations perhaps, since the last true Desolation?”
How could this creature not remember how long it had been since the Returns ended? Perhaps he was so far above mortals that he didn’t measure time the same way.
“I thought it impossible for them to cross the distance between worlds,” Nale said. “Could it have been … No. Impossible. I’ve been vigilant. I’ve been careful. You must tell me! How did you accomplish his return?”
So cold. A voice with no rhythms, and no human emotions. Yet those words … He was raving. Perhaps it wasn’t that he measured time differently, but that he was addled? Though she’d been considering telling him the truth, that instinct retreated before his dead words.
She might not trust Ulim completely, but she certainly couldn’t turn to this Herald instead.
“We didn’t do anything to return them,” she said, taking a gamble based on what he’d said earlier. “It was what you did.”
“Impossible,” Nale repeated. “Ishar said only a Connection between the worlds could cause a bridge to open. And Taln has not given in. I would know if he had.…”
“Do not blame us,” Venli said, “for your failure.”
Nale kept his eyes forward. “So, Gavilar’s plan is working. The fool. He will destroy us all.” Nale sneered, a sudden and unexpected burst of emotion. “That foolish idiot of a man. He lures us with promises, then breaks them by seeking that which I told him was forbidden! Yes. I heard it tonight. The proof I need. I know. I know.…”
Storms, Venli thought. He really is mad.
“I have been vigilant,” the man ranted. “But not vigilant enough. I must take care. If the bonds start forming again … if we let the pathway open…” He suddenly stopped in the hallway, making her halt beside him. His face became flat again. Emotionless. “I believe I must offer you a service, listener. The king is planning to betray your people.”
“What?” she said.
“You can prevent disaster,” Nale said. “There is a man here in the city tonight. I have been tracking him due to his unusual circumstances. He possesses an artifact that belonged to a friend of mine. I have sworn not to touch said artifact, for … reasons that are unimportant to you.”
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