“We have to stay to the outer ring,” he said. “No going inward for us, nope. Be happy. You get … you get to enjoy the end of the world in style.…”
She reluctantly let herself be pulled along. It was probably best to do a round of the platform anyway. However, not long after starting, she began to hear the voice.
Let go.
Give up your pain.
Feast. Indulge.
Embrace the end.
Pattern hummed on her coat, his sound lost to the many people laughing and drinking. Kharat stuck his fingers into some kind of creamy dessert, taking it by the handful. His eyes had glazed over, and he muttered to himself as he pushed the food into his mouth. Though others laughed and even danced, most showed that same glassy look.
She could feel Pattern’s vibrations on her coat. It seemed to counteract the voices, clearing her head. Kharat handed her a cup of wine he’d scooped from a table. Who set this all up? Where were the servants?
There was just so much food. Tables and tables of it. People moved in buildings they passed, engaging in other carnal delights. Veil tried to slip across the stream of revelers, but Kharat kept hold of her.
“Everyone wants to go inward their first time,” he said. “You aren’t allowed. Enjoy this. Enjoy the feeling. It’s not our fault, right? We didn’t fail her. We were only doing what she asked. Don’t cause a storm, girl. Nobody wants that.…”
He hung on to Veil’s arm. So instead she waited until they passed another building, and tugged him that way.
“Going to find a partner?” he asked, numb. “Sure. That’s allowed. Assuming you can find anyone still sober enough to care…”
They entered the building, which had once been a place for meditation, filled with individual rooms. It smelled sharply of incense, and each alcove had its own brazier for burning prayers. Those were now occupied for another sort of experience.
“I just want to rest a moment,” she told Kharat, peeking into an empty room. It had a window. She could slip out that, maybe. “It’s all so overwhelming.”
“Oh.” He looked over his shoulder toward the revel passing outside. His left hand was still coated with sweet paste.
Veil stepped into the chamber. When he tried to follow, she said, “I need a moment alone.”
“I’m supposed to keep watch on you,” he said, and prevented her from closing the door.
“Then watch,” she said and settled down on the bench inside the cell. “From a distance.”
He sighed and sat down on the floor of the hallway.
Now what? A new face, she thought. What did he name me? Kishi. It meant Mystery. She used a Memory she’d drawn earlier in the day, that of a woman from the market. In her mind, Shallan added touches to the clothing. A havah, ragged like the others, an exposed safehand.
It would do. She wished she could sketch it, but she could make this work. Now, what to do about her guard?
He probably hears voices, she thought. I can use that. She pressed her hand to Pattern, and wove sound.
“Go,” she whispered, “hang on the wall of the hallway outside, next to him.”
Pattern softly hummed his reply. She closed her eyes, and could faintly hear the words she’d woven to be whispered near Kharat.
Indulge.
Get something to drink.
Join the revel.
“You going to just sit there?” Kharat called in to her.
“Yes.”
“I’m going to get something to drink. Don’t leave.”
“Fine.”
He rose, then jogged out. By the time he got back, she had attached an illusion of Veil to a ruby mark, then left it there. It showed Veil resting on the bench, eyes closed, snoring softly.
Kishi passed Kharat in the hallway, stepping with glassy eyes. He didn’t spare her a second glance, and instead settled down in the hallway with a large cup of wine to watch Veil.
Kishi joined the revel outside. A man there laughed and grabbed at her safehand, as if to pull her toward one of the rooms. Kishi dodged him and slipped farther inward, flowing through the stream of people. This “outer ring” seemed to round the entire Oathgate platform.
The secrets were farther toward the center. Nobody forbade Kishi as she left the flow of the outer ring, stepping between two buildings, heading inward.
* * *
The others stopped their small talk, and the officers’ table grew very still as Kaladin settled down across from Azure.
The highmarshal laced her gloved hands before herself. “Kal, was it?” she said. “The lighteyed man with slave brands. How are you finding your time in the Wall Guard?”
“It’s a well-run army, sir, and strangely welcoming of one such as myself.” He then nodded over the highmarshal’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen someone treat a Shardblade so casually. You just hang it on a peg?”
The others at the table watched with obviously held breaths.
“I’m not particularly worried about anyone taking her,” Azure said. “I trust these men.”
“It’s still remarkable,” Kaladin said. “Foolhardy, even.”
Across the table, two places down from Azure, Lieutenant Noro raised his hands silently toward Kaladin in a pleading way. Don’t screw this up, Kal!
But Azure smiled. “I never did get an explanation for that shash brand, soldier.”
“I never gave a proper one, sir,” Kaladin said. “I’m not fond of the memories that earned me the scar.”
“How did you end up in this city?” Azure asked. “Sadeas’s lands are far to the north. There are several armies of Voidbringers between here and there, by report.”
“I flew. How about you, sir? You couldn’t have been in the city long before the siege began; nobody talks of you earlier than that time. They say you appeared right when the Guard needed you.”
“Perhaps I was always here, but merely blended in.”
“With those scars? They may not spell out danger as explicitly as mine, but they’d have been memorable.”
The rest of the table—lieutenants and the platoon captain—stared at Kaladin slack-jawed. Perhaps he was pushing too hard, acting too far above his station.
He’d never been good at acting his station though.
“Perhaps,” Azure said, “one shouldn’t be questioning my arrival. Be thankful someone was here when the city needed them.”
“I am thankful,” Kaladin said. “Your reputation with these men commends you, Azure, and extreme times can excuse a great deal. Eventually though, you’ll need to come clean. These men deserve to know who—exactly—is commanding them.”
“And what about you, Kal?” She took a spoonful of curry and rice—men’s food, which she ate with gusto. “Do they deserve to know your past? Shouldn’t you come clean?”
“Perhaps.”
“I am your commanding officer, you realize. You should answer me when I ask questions.”
“I’ve given answers,” Kaladin said. “If they aren’t the ones you want, then perhaps your questions aren’t very good.”
Noro gasped audibly.
“And you, Kal? You make statements, dripping with implications. You want answers? Why not just ask?”
Storms. She was right. He’d been dancing around serious questions. Kaladin looked her in the eyes. “Why won’t you let anyone talk about the fact that you’re a woman, Azure? Noro, don’t faint. You’ll embarrass us all.”
The lieutenant thumped his forehead against the table, groaning softly. The captainlord, with whom Kaladin hadn’t interacted much, had gone red-faced.
“They came up with this game on their own,” Azure said. “They’re Alethi, so they need an excuse for why they’re listening to a woman giving military orders. Pretending there’s some mystery focuses them on that, instead of on masculine pride. I find the entire thing silly.” She leaned forward. “Tell me honestly. Did you come here chasing me?”
Chasing you? Kaladin cocked his head.
Drums sounded i
n the near distance.
It took a moment for them, even Kaladin, to register what that meant. Then Kaladin and Azure threw themselves back from the bench at nearly the same time. “To arms!” Kaladin shouted. “There’s an attack on the wall!”
* * *
The next ring inward on the Oathgate platform was filled with people crawling.
Kishi stood at the perimeter, watching a multitude of men and women in ragged finery crawl past her, giggling, moaning, or gasping. Each seemed in the thrall of a different emotion, and each stared with an openly maddened expression. She thought she recognized a few from the descriptions of lighteyes who had disappeared into the palace, though in their state, it was hard to tell.
A woman with long hair dragging on the ground looked toward her, grinning with clenched teeth and bleeding gums. She crawled, one hand after another, her havah shredded, faded. She was followed by a man wearing rings glowing with Stormlight, in contrast to his ripped clothing. He giggled incessantly.
The food on the tables here rotted, and was infested with decayspren. Kishi wavered at the edge of the ring. She should have kept to the outer ring; she didn’t belong here. There was food aplenty behind her. Laughter and reveling. It seemed to pull her back, inviting her to join the eternal, beautiful walk.
Within that ring, time wouldn’t matter. She could forget Shallan, and what she’d done. Just … just give in …
Pattern hummed. Veil gasped, letting Kishi burst from her, Lightweaving collapsing. Storms. She had to be away from this place. It was doing things to her brain. Strange things, even for her.
Not yet. She pulled her coat tight, then picked her way across the street full of crawling people. No bonfire lit her way, only the moon overhead and the light of the jewelry the people wore.
Storms. Where had they all gone for the storm? Their moaning, chittering, and babbling chased her as she crossed the street, then hurried down a dark pathway between two monastery buildings, inward. Toward the control building, which should be right ahead.
The voices in her head combined from whispers to a kind of surging rhythm. A thumping of impressions, followed by a pause, followed by another surge. Almost like …
She stepped between the buildings and entered a moonlit square, colored violet from Salas above. Instead of the control building, she found an overgrown mass. Something had covered the entire structure, like the Midnight Mother had enveloped the gemstone pillar beneath Urithiru.
The dark mass pulsed and throbbed. Black veins as thick as a man’s leg ran from it and melded with the ground nearby. A heart. It beat an irregular rhythm, bum-ba-ba-bum instead of the common ba-bum of her own heartbeat.
Give in.
Join the revel.
Shallan, listen to me.
She shook herself. That last voice had been different. She’d heard it before, hadn’t she?
She looked to the side, and found her shadow on the ground, pointed the wrong way, toward the moonlight instead of away from it. The shadow crept up the wall, with eyes that were white holes, glowing faintly.
I’m not your enemy. But the heart is a trap. Take caution.
Distantly, drums started sounding on the top of the wall. The Voidbringers were attacking.
It all threatened to overwhelm her. The thumping heart, the strange processions in rings around it, the drums and the panic that the Fused were coming for her because she’d been seen.
Veil seized control. She’d accomplished her goal, she’d scouted the area, and she had information about the Oathgate. It was time to get out.
She turned and—forcibly—put on Kishi’s face. She crossed the stream of crawling, moaning people. She flowed back into the outer ring of revelers, before slipping out.
She didn’t check on her guide. She walked to the rim of the Oathgate platform and, without a look back, leaped off.
Our revelation is fueled by the theory that the Unmade can perhaps be captured like ordinary spren. It would require a special prison. And Melishi.
—From drawer 30-20, third emerald
Kaladin charged up the stairwell beside Highmarshal Azure, the sound of drums breaking the air like echoes of thunder from the departed storm. He counted the beats.
Storms. That’s my section under assault.
“Damnation these creatures!” Azure muttered. “I’m missing something. Like white on black…” She glanced at Kaladin. “Just tell me. Who are you?”
“Who are you?”
The two burst out of the stairwell onto the wall’s top, entering a scene of chaos. The soldiers on duty had lit the enormous oil lamps on the tops of the towers, giving light to the dark walls. Fused swooped between them, trailing dark violet light, attacking with long, bloodied lances.
Men lay screaming on the ground or huddled in pairs, holding up shields as if trying to hide from the nightmares above.
Kaladin and Azure exchanged a look, then nodded to one another. Later.
She broke left and Kaladin dashed right, shouting for men to form up. Syl spun around his head, concerned, anxious. Kaladin scooped a shield off the ground and seized a soldier by the arm, towing him around and locking shields. A swooping lance clanged off the metal, sending a jolt through Kaladin. The Voidbringer flew past.
Pained, Kaladin ignored the wounded and bleeding who crawled with corrupted painspren. He pulled the scattered remnants of the Eighth Platoon back together while his own men stumbled to a halt outside the stairwell. These were their friends, the people with whom they shared a barrack.
“To your right and up!” Syl shouted.
Kaladin set himself and used his shield to push aside the lance of a Voidbringer who soared past. A second Voidbringer followed, wearing a long skirt of rippling crimson cloth. The way she flew was almost mesmerizing.… Right up until her lance pinned Captain Deedanor against the wall’s battlements, then lifted him and tossed him over.
He screamed as he plummeted toward the ground below. Kaladin almost broke rank and ran for him, but held himself in the line by force. He reached, by instinct, for the Stormlight in his pouch—but held himself back. Using it for Lashing would attract screamers, and in this darkness, even drawing in a small amount would reveal him for what he was. The Fused would all attack him together; he would risk undermining the mission to save the entire city.
Today, he protected best through discipline, order, and keeping a level head. “Squads One and Two, with me!” he shouted. “Vardinar, you’ve got Five and Six; have your men hand out pikes, then grab bows and get to the tower’s top. Noro, take squads Three and Four and set up on the wall walk just past the tower. My men will hold here on this side. Go, go!”
Nobody voiced a complaint as they scrambled to do as he said. Kaladin heard shouts from the highmarshal farther down the wall, but didn’t have a chance to see how she was doing. As his two squads finally got a proper shield wall mounted, a human corpse slammed down onto the wall walk nearby. It had been dropped from very high up—or perhaps it had been Lashed into the sky and had only now fallen. Most of the wounded men were archers from the Eighth Platoon; it looked like they’d been swept from the top of the tower.
We can’t fight these things, Kaladin thought. The Voidbringers attacked in sweeping dives, coming in from all directions. It was impossible to maintain a normal formation beneath that assault.
Syl shifted into the shape of a girl and looked at him questioningly. He shook his head. He could fight without Stormlight. He’d protected people long before he could fly.
He started to call out orders, but a Fused passed by, slapping at their pikes with a large shield. Before the men could get them reoriented, another crashed down into the center of them, sending soldiers stumbling. A violet glow steamed from the creature’s body as it swept around with its lance, wielding it like an oversized staff.
Kaladin ducked by instinct, trying to maneuver his pike. The Fused grinned as the formation disintegrated. It was male, reminiscent of a Parshendi, with layered plates of chitin arm
or creeping down across its forehead and rising from cheeks that were marbled black and red.
Kaladin leveled his pike, but the creature lunged along it and pressed its hand against Kaladin’s chest. He felt himself grow lighter, but also suddenly begin to fall backward.
The creature had Lashed him.
Kaladin fell back, like he was toppling off a ledge, falling along the wall toward a group of his men. The Fused wanted Kaladin to crash into them, but it had made a mistake.
The sky was his.
Kaladin responded immediately to the Lashing, and reoriented himself in the blink of an eye. Down became the direction he was falling: along the walkway, toward the towering guard post. His men seemed to be stuck to the side of a cliff, turning toward him, horrified.
Kaladin was able to shove against the stone with the end of his pike, moving him to the side so he whooshed past his men instead of crashing into them. Syl joined him as a ribbon, and he twisted, falling feet-first along the walkway toward the guard tower below.
He was able to nudge himself so he fell right into the open doorway. He dropped the pike, then caught the lip of the doorway as he passed through it. He stopped with a jarring lurch, arms protesting with pain, but that maneuver slowed him enough. When he swung and let go, he dropped through the room—past the dining table, which seemed glued to the wall—and landed on the opposite wall, inside the building. He stepped over to the other doorway, which looked out onto the walk where he’d positioned Noro’s squad. Beard and Ved held pikes toward the sky, looking anxious.
“Kaladin!” Syl said. “Above!”
He looked upward and out the doorway he’d come through. The Voidbringer who had Lashed him came soaring downward, carrying a lance. It curved to bypass the tower, preparing to whip around and attack Beard and the men on the other side.
Kaladin growled and dashed along the inside wall of the tower, pulled himself up past the table, then hurled himself out a window.
He crashed into the Voidbringer in midair, shoving the creature’s lance to the side.
“Leave. My. Men. Alone!”
Kaladin clung to the clothing of the monster, spinning in the air dozens of feet above the dark city, sparkling with the light of spheres in windows or lanterns. The Voidbringer Lashed them higher, falsely assuming that the more height it had, the more advantage it would gain over Kaladin.
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