Well, now she could simply ask. The Challenge of Stormhold? Oh, Ash had been there. King Iyalid had been drunk. The treaty of four nights? A delaying tactic intended to position the enemy for a betrayal. All those debates, and Jochi was right while Jasnah was wrong. Settled as easily as that.
Of course, there were things the Heralds didn’t know, things they wouldn’t say, or—in Taln’s case—things they couldn’t say. Jasnah flipped through the pages, trying to piece together anything from her more recent interviews that would help with the situation at Urithiru. Even the Heralds knew little of this Sibling, the secretive tower spren.
She needed to present this to the other Veristitalians, see what they could tease from it all. Yet the words of the Heralds cast doubt on her second guiding principle—that the past was the best gauge of the future. There was another way. The enemy could see what would happen in the future. That terrified her. In relying on the past, Jasnah saw the future through occluded glass from within a chasm, if at all. Odium had a prime spot atop the watchtower.
She sighed, and Wit unfolded himself from the chair snug in the corner on the other side of the room. He stretched, then wandered over and knelt beside her before taking her unclothed safehand and kissing the tip of the index finger.
At that, Jasnah felt a little thrill of mystery. She’d come to realize, early in her youth, that she didn’t approach relationships the same way everyone else seemed to. Her partners in the past had always complained that she was too cold, so academic. That had frustrated her. How was she to learn what others felt if she couldn’t ask them?
She didn’t have that problem with Wit. He presented an entire world of other problems, but he never was bothered by her questions. Even if he often dodged them.
“My dear,” he said, “you pay me no heed. Be careful not to give undue attention only to the ravings of the mad. I warn you, without proper affection, your Wit will wilt.”
She removed her hand from his grip and studied him. Keen eyes. A nose that was perhaps a bit too sharp. Most women, she suspected, would find him physically attractive. And indeed she appreciated his statuesque quality, with such interesting proportions and such an intense face. The nose humanized him, in her opinion, made him feel more real.
Curiously, he wasn’t Alethi, but he had transformed himself to look like one. She’d been able to tease that much from him. He was something more ancient. He’d laughed when she’d asked, and said the Alethi hadn’t existed when he’d been born, so he couldn’t have been credited the honor of being one of her gifted people.
She found the way he spoke fascinating. After all this time—and all her worries—here was one who was her intellectual equal. Perhaps her superior. She didn’t trust him, of course. But that was part of what intrigued her.
“How do we beat him, Wit?” she asked softly. “If he can truly see the future, then what possible chance do we have?”
“I once knew a man,” Wit said, “who was the finest gambler in all his realm. Where he lived, you make your cards walk themselves around the table by breathing life into them. He was the best. Intelligent, skilled with the Breath of life, a shrewd gambler—he knew exactly how to bet and when. Everyone was waiting for the day when he lost. And eventually he did.”
“That’s different, Wit,” Jasnah said. “He couldn’t literally see the future.”
“Ah, but you see, I was rigging the games. So I did know the future—as much as Odium does, anyway. I shouldn’t have been able to lose. Yet I did.”
“How?”
“Someone else rigged the game so that no matter what move I made, I could not win. The game was a tie, something I hadn’t anticipated. I’d focused my cheating on making certain I didn’t lose, but I’d bet on myself winning. And I bet it all, you see—if I’d have been more clever, I’d have let less be lost.”
“So,” she said, “how do we set it up so Odium doesn’t win, even if he can’t lose?”
Wit unfolded a paper from his pocket, still kneeling beside her. He seemed to genuinely like her, and she found his companionship invigorating. Full of questions, delights, and surprises. She could provide the intimacy he desired, though she knew he found her lack of excitement on that axis odd, perhaps unsatisfying. That was not a new experience for her; she’d always found it curious how others put their physical urges ahead of the more powerful emotions of bonding, relating, and engaging.
The chance to scheme, to connect with a being like Wit—that was exciting. She was curious how the relationship would develop, and that invigorated her. After so many failures, this was something new and interesting.
She cupped his face with her hand. She wished she could, deep down, truly trust him. He was something she, and this world, had never before known. That was electrifying. It was also so extremely dangerous.
Wit smiled at her, then smoothed out the paper on her writing desk. It was scribed in his own hand, of course. He came from a land where men had been encouraged to write, the same as women. He shot her a glance, then his smile became a grin. Yes, he did seem genuinely fond of their relationship, as much as she was. Indeed, he said it had taken him by surprise as it had her.
“A contract,” she said, turning from him and reading the paper. “For Dalinar’s contest with Odium.” Wit had undoubtedly sculpted each word with precision. “If Dalinar wins, Odium retreats to Damnation for a thousand years. If Odium wins, he must remain in the system, but gets Roshar to do with as he pleases. The monarchs will submit to his rule—as will the Radiants who follow Dalinar.”
“Perfect,” Wit said. “Wouldn’t you say?”
Jasnah sat back. “Perfect for you. If this is agreed to, you win no matter what. Odium remains contained in the Rosharan system either way.”
Wit spread his hands before himself. “I’ve learned a few things since that challenge with the cards so many years ago. But Jasnah, this is for the best. If Dalinar wins, well, your people get what they want. But if Dalinar loses, Odium is contained. We’re limiting our losses—making certain that at the boundaries of this planet, hell and hate must halt.”
“It puts everything on this one contest of champions,” Jasnah said. “I hate that tradition even when played for lower stakes.”
“Says the woman who used me in a ploy to manipulate that very tradition not two weeks ago.”
“Lower stakes,” Jasnah repeated, “involving a meaningless loss such as your death.”
“Jasnah!”
“Wit, you’re immortal,” she said. “You told me yourself.”
“And you believed me?” he asked, aghast.
She paused and studied him.
He grinned, then kissed her hand again. He seemed to think that sort of thing would eventually spark passion in her. When in truth, physical stimulation was so inferior to mental stimulation.
“I told you I haven’t died when killed—yet,” he said. “Doesn’t mean someone won’t find a way someday, and I’d rather not give them an opportunity. Besides, even for me, being killed can confound.”
“Don’t distract me,” she said. “Can we really risk the fate of the world on a simple duel?”
“Ah, but it’s not a duel, Jasnah. That’s the thing. It’s not about the contest, but what leads up to the contest. I know Rayse. He is arrogant and enjoys being worshipped. He never does anything without delighting in how he can show off.
“He’s also careful. Subtle. So to win, we need to make him certain he can’t utterly lose. This contract does that. If his fail state is that he has to wait a thousand years to try again, well, that won’t bother him. He has been here for thousands of years already. So he’ll see another thousand as an acceptable loss. But to you and the budding Radiants, a thousand years is a long time. Long as a soulless star slumbers.”
“A soulless star.”
“Yes.”
“Slumbers.”
“As they do.”
She stared at him flatly.
“Long as a rat rends rust?” he asked.<
br />
“Long as seasons see stories?”
“Oh, that’s delightful, Jasnah. Pretend I was the one who could somehow stress said symphonion sounds.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him.
“It means beautiful,” he said.
“No it doesn’t.” She again studied the contract. “Sometimes I feel you aren’t taking this as seriously as you should, Wit.”
“It’s a personal failing,” he said. “The more serious something becomes, the more I find myself inappropriately involved. Indeedy.”
Jasnah sighed.
“I’ll stop,” he said with a grin. “I promise. But look, Jasnah, Rayse—Odium—is someone we can defeat. If he has one great failing it’s that he thinks he’s smarter than he is. He tried exceptionally hard to make Dalinar into his champion. Why? Because he doesn’t merely want to win, he wants to win in a way that says something. To everyone watching.
“He was so certain he could turn the Blackthorn that he bet almost everything on that singular gamble. Now he must be scared. While he pretends he has a dozen other plans, he’s scrambling to locate a champion who can legitimately win. Because he knows—same as I’m telling you—that the contest won’t only be about who can stab the hardest with their spear.”
“What will it be about then?”
“Same thing it’s always about, Jasnah,” Wit said. “The hearts of men and women. Do you trust the hearts of those who fight on your side?”
She paused, and hoped he didn’t read too much into it. Staring at the contract, she couldn’t help but feel outmatched by all of this. She, who had been preparing for nearly two decades for these exact events, felt uncertain. Did she trust her own heart, when confronted with ancient troubles that had surely defeated better women than her?
“A wise answer,” Wit whispered.
“I didn’t give one.”
“A wise answer.” He squeezed her hand. “If you give Odium this contract—and get me the assurance that he cannot break free of this planetary system no matter what happens—then you won’t have to trust the hearts of mortals, Jasnah. Because you’ll have me. And everything I can give you.”
“You’ve told me he would destroy you if he found you.”
“We’ll add a line to the contract,” Wit said, “naming me as a contractual liaison for Honor—whom Dalinar represents. This will protect me from Odium’s direct attacks for the life of the contract. He will have to abide by those terms, as they are part of the promise Rayse made by taking up the Shard of Odium. To fail that promise would give others an opening against him, and said failures have killed gods before. Odium knows it. So do this, and I can help you openly. As myself.”
“And who is that, Wit?” she asked. “Who are you really?”
“Someone,” he said, “who wisely turned down the power the others all took—and in so doing, gained freedoms they can never again have. I, Jasnah, am someone who is not bound.”
She met his eyes—the eyes of something that wasn’t a man. A thing that was eternal as a spren. Or, if he was to be believed, something even older.
“I feel,” she said, “like I should be terrified by that statement.”
“That’s why I’m so fond of you,” he said. “You are poised, you are smart, and you are always ready with a ploy; but when each of those things fails you, Jasnah, you are—above all else—paranoid.”
Humans are weapons. We singers revere Passion, do we not? How can we throw away such an excellent channeling of it?
—Musings of El, on the first of the Final Ten Days
Kaladin woke with a start, ready to fight.
He struggled, his heart racing as he found his hands bound. Why? What was happening? He grunted, thrashing in the darkness, and …
He started to remember.
He’d tied his hands together on purpose, to prevent him from punching someone who woke him, like he’d done to Dabbid yesterday. He gasped, fighting the terror as he huddled against the wall. Kaladin told himself the visions were only nightmares, but he still wanted to claw at his own skull. Burrow into it, pull out all the terrible thoughts, the overwhelming darkness. Storms. He was … he was …
He was so tired.
Eventually he managed to calm himself enough to free his hands. He searched around the black chamber, but saw nothing. They hadn’t left out any lights. Teft, however, was snoring softly.
Everything was all right. Kaladin was … was all right.…
He fumbled around his mat, looking for the canteen he’d placed there when going to sleep. What had awakened him? He remembered a … a song. A distant song.
He found the canteen, but then saw a light on the wall. Faint, almost invisible even in the darkness. Hesitant, he wiped the sweat from his brow, then reached out and touched the garnet. A voice, so very quiet, spoke in his mind.
… help … please …
Storms. The tower spren sounded frail.
“What is wrong? They found the last node?”
Yes … at … the model …
The model? Kaladin frowned, then remembered the large model of the tower in the infirmary room. In there? Near the Radiants?
Storms. That was where his parents were.
There is something else … so … much … worse.…
“What?” Kaladin demanded. “What could be worse?”
They will … soon kill … all the Radiants.…
“The Radiants?” Kaladin said. “The captive ones?”
… Please … send … me Rlain.…
The voice faded along with the light. Kaladin took a deep breath, trembling. Could he do this again? He took out a sphere, then woke Teft.
The other bridgeman came awake, grabbing Kaladin by the arm reflexively. His grip was weak. Despite what he said, the time in a coma had left him enervated.
I have to fight, Kaladin thought. I’m the only one who can.
“What is it?” Teft said.
“Something’s happening,” Kaladin said. “The tower’s spren woke me, saying the final node has been located. The Sibling told me the Radiants are in danger, and asked me to send Rlain. I think they meant to send Rlain to Navani, like we’d been planning. Our hand seems to have been forced. We need to try to rescue the Radiants.”
Teft nodded, groaning as he sat up.
“You don’t seem surprised,” Kaladin said.
“I’m not,” Teft said, heaving himself to his feet. “This was coming, lad, no matter what we did. I’m sorry. Doesn’t seem we have time to do it your father’s way.”
“Watchers at the rim,” Kaladin said softly. “We’ll need to move quickly. You get Lift ready to sneak in to the Radiants, so she can begin waking them up. I’ll make a fuss outside to lure out the guards and distract the Pursuer. If the guards don’t come out though, you’ll have to neutralize them.”
“All right then. Good enough.” Teft pointed to the side, to where something lay folded on the ground. Bridge Four uniforms. Kaladin had asked Dabbid to get them changes of clothing. That was what he’d found? As they began to dress, Dabbid returned, frantic. He came up and grabbed Kaladin’s arm.
“The tower spren talked to you too?” Kaladin asked.
Dabbid nodded. “They sounded so weak.”
“Do you know where Rlain is?” Kaladin asked.
“I’m going to meet him,” Dabbid said. “Fourth floor. Something’s happened with Venli that has him really shaken. He didn’t want to talk in the infirmary.”
“Tell him the plan is a go,” Kaladin said. “Someone needs to inform the queen. Do you think you two can get to her?”
“Rlain thinks he can,” Dabbid said. “I will go with him. People ignore me.”
“Go then,” Kaladin said. “Tell her what we’re doing, and that we’re going to have to get the Radiants out. Then you two take up hiding in this room, and don’t make any storms. We’ll escape with the Radiants, get Dalinar, and return for you.”
Dabbid wrung his hands, but nodded. “Bridge Four,” he wh
ispered.
“Bridge Four,” Kaladin said. “I don’t want to leave you two alone, Dabbid, but we need to move now—and I want the queen to be contacted. Plus … the Sibling said something. About sending Rlain to them.”
“They said it to me too,” Dabbid said. He gave the salute, which Kaladin returned, then moved off at a run.
“If something goes wrong,” Kaladin said to Teft, continuing to dress in his uniform, “get out that window.”
They’d practiced Kaladin’s trick of infusing objects and his boots to climb down walls. In an emergency, someone might have to jump out the window and hope to regain their powers before they hit the ground—but that was an absolute last resort. The current plan was for the Windrunners to climb down the outside, each with another Radiant strapped to their backs.
It was far from a perfect plan, but it was better than letting the Fused murder the Radiants while they were in comas.
“Even if you only get yourself out,” Kaladin said, “do it, rather than staying and making a hopeless stand. Take your spren and get to Dalinar.”
“And you?” Teft said. “You’ll follow, right?”
Kaladin hesitated.
“If I run, you run,” Teft said. “Look, what happened the last two times a node was discovered?”
“The Pursuer was waiting for me,” Kaladin admitted.
“He will be again,” Teft said. “This is a trap, plain and simple. What the enemy doesn’t know is that we don’t care about the node. We’re trying to free the Radiants. So distract him a little, yes, but then run and let them have their storming fabrial.”
“I could try that.”
“Give me an oath, lad. We can’t do anything more in this tower. We need to reach Dalinar. I’m going to head that way with as many Radiants as I can rescue. You’ve got my back, right?”
Rhythm of War (9781429952040) Page 131
