Lotr starlight archive Chapter 10: 10, a 17776 fanfic

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Of Many Colors [Stormlight Archive/Lord of the Rings]

Thread starter LithosMaitreya Start date Aug 29, 2022 Tags lord of the rings (middle-earth) stormlight archive (cosmere)

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Threadmarks 79: Skepticism

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LithosMaitreya

Character Witness

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Nov 18, 2024

#1,972

Thanks to Elran and BeaconHill for betareading, and to Phinnia for the commissioned icon.

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Skepticism

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I don't know—nor do I want to know—where the others are. I assume you've kept track of Live, given you held it for some time. But you'd know better than me whether Unite or Change could have caused whatever you're seeing on Ashyn. Let me know what you find there.

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"We need to speak with Dalinar about the rooms we've claimed," Thude said to Determination. "We have places to sleep, yes, but every time a larger chamber is explored the Alethi claim it immediately—as a kitchen, a training ground, a library, or whatever else they do with the bigger rooms. We need some of those for our own people."

"Surely we can share," Eshonai offered meekly, Anxiety coloring the words. "Do we really need our own kitchens? We're allies now—Dalinar offered the surviving Listeners shelter in Urithiru without even asking for a formal surrender."

"That may not be a good thing," Rlain cautioned to Consideration. "Technically, since we haven't signed a formal peace treaty or ceasefire yet, I believe we are still at war under Alethi law. You should speak with Elhokar about that."

"Me?" Eshonai asked, Anxiety suddenly shifting into the Rhythm of the Terrors. "Why me?"

"Because you are our general," Rlain said. "The Listener's military commander. It is the Alethi way that the warlord dictates when wars begin and end."

"I was our general," Eshonai said, humming to the Rhythm of Mourning. "Before I turned my back on everything our people stand for."

"The Five have not revoked your position," Rlain said to Reconciliation. "And you are Neshua Kadal, now. The first in our people's history—proof that the spren have forgiven us for our service to Odium. They recognize that you have repented."

Thude, between them, hummed wordlessly to the Rhythm of Skepticism. Rlain shot him a look as Eshonai curled inward like a chull trying to retreat into its shell. Shamespren flickered around her, threads of red and white, slowly encircling her like a cage.

"The Five haven't revoked my position because there has been too much going on," Eshonai said. "And because I'm invited to Dalinar's meetings with the other Radiants, which means I'm our best liaison to the affairs of the Alethi, other than you. But that doesn't mean anyone will listen to me."

"No one's asking you to give any orders," Thude pointed out, shifting from Skepticism to Reconciliation. "It's just that you're the one Dalinar will most readily listen to, and we need more and larger rooms. He's the one who can see to it we get them, and you're the person who can best ask him to do so. If anyone resents you for that, Rlain and I can set them straight."

"I don't want anyone set straight for being angry with me," Eshonai said. "I deserve to have people angry with me. I don't—there are tens of thousands of us who are dead now! Dead because of me! Because I was too weak, too foolish, too frightened to see what was in front of me!"

"And because Venli preyed upon your desperation," Rlain said to Reconciliation. "And because the gods preyed on hers. There is blame enough to go around, Eshonai."

"Yes," Eshonai said to Despair. "And a more than generous portion of it is rightfully mine."

Before Rlain could come up with something else to say, there came a rapping at the door. Thude, nearest the door, turned to open it. An elderly Listener in workform stepped inside, humming the tune of the Song of Histories. Rlain recognized her at once—and, given how Eshonai recoiled, so did she.

"Mother," Eshonai murmured.

"Daughter," Jaxlim said in a smooth, melodious voice, along the gentle pulse of the Rhythm of Peace. When she walked across the room to take a seat near the window, her steps were surer than Rlain could remember seeing them in years. "You have not come to see me since the battle."

"I…" Eshonai hesitated, struggling to look at her mother. "I didn't…"

Jaxlim considered Eshonai with old, piercing eyes. "You didn't think I would notice your absence?" she asked, still to Peace.

"No!" Eshonai exclaimed, sounding horrified. "No, I just…" she hummed weakly to Consolation, a rare Rhythm mostly used for particularly strong or formal apologies. "I didn't know what to say. How to… I'm sorry, Mother."

Jaxlim nodded slowly. "I am doing well today," she said. "I have been doing well for a few days, actually. Something about the air in these mountains, perhaps. It agrees with me. I am remembering the songs more easily. And the others tell me Venli is gone."

Eshonai swallowed. "I don't know where she is," she admitted. "She vanished after the battle. I don't know whether she's rallying some of the other stormform Listeners in service to the gods, or if she's gone into hiding somewhere on the Plains, or if the storms washed her body into the chasms. I don't know, Mother. I don't—" Eshonai's voice broke as she hummed to the Rhythm of Mourning.

"Shh, shh," Jaxlim murmured to Peace. "It's all right, Eshonai. It's not your fault."

"But it is!"

"No more than Venli's," Jaxlim said. "No more than the Five's. These terrible events were set in motion years ago, long before their terrible outcomes could have been foreseen by any save the gods. So if you must blame someone, blame them."

"I would have killed you!" Eshonai wailed, reaching for her mother. Their arms closed around each other, and Rlain decided it was time to go. He caught Thude's eye and gestured at the door. The two of them crept out of Eshonai's chambers, closing the door behind them, cutting off the sight of mother and daughter embracing.

Thude sighed, leaning against the wall. "She's… not doing well," he said to Resignation.

"No," Rlain said to Reprimand. "And you weren't helping. Why would you hum Skepticism in there?"

"What?" Thude grumbled. "You may have learned to lie like a human from Sarus, but I'm still a Listener! I'm not going to pretend it's all going to be okay just because it'd be nice if it was!"

Rlain sighed. "Come on," he said, gesturing down the hall. Thude followed him away from Eshonai's door as he continued, still to the Rhythm of Reprimand. "It's not about pretending it'll be okay, Thude. It's about not making it worse! Eshonai is hurting herself. You were the one who told me she was reluctant to take stormform in the first place, that she took it on herself only once it was clear someone would have to. That was a sacrifice, not a crime!"

"Stupid sacrifice to make," Thude muttered to Irritation. "If she'd let some other Listener be the first experiment in stormform, at least we'd have still had a general we could trust. And she might have actually negotiated with Dalinar at their parley instead of sabotaging it. None of this would have happened."

Rlain hummed to Reprimand. "Yes, but that was a mistake. Just a few months ago every Listener knew that forms didn't change who you were. It's obvious now that Forms of Power are different, but it wasn't then. Maybe Eshonai could have foreseen that, but not as easily as we can see it now in hindsight."

"I know," Thude said to Irritation, then forcibly attuned Peace. He hummed it for a moment before continuing. "I know. I agree with you, Rlain. I hummed Skepticism because I don't think it was correct to say that the only reason the Five haven't revoked her rank is because they recognize she's repented. They haven't revoked it because we're all too busy. Eshonai's right about that."

Rlain sighed, humming Reconciliation. "But Skepticism just isn't a Rhythm Eshonai needs to hear right now. She's doubting herself enough for all of us. She's our only Neshua Kadal, Thude. We need her. We need her to trust herself."

"We also need her to be worthy of that trust," Thude said, still to Peace. "I agree that she made a mistake, and that it was a more understandable one to make at the time—but that doesn't mean it wasn't a very big mistake."

"Do you think she's likely to make it again?" Rlain asked to Annoyance.

"No," Thude acknowledged.

"There you are, then. She needs our help, Thude. We're… we're some of the last of the First-Rhythms family. Us, Eshonai, and Jaxlim. All of the others are more distant relations, who didn't know Eshonai as well before the war. The other Listeners, those who only knew her as their general, and then as the one who led their friends into stormform… they all doubt her, now. And she doubts herself. Someone has to believe in her."

Thude hummed to Peace. "It's not that easy for me, Rlain," he admitted. "I know you're right. I do. Eshonai isn't likely to make the same mistake again, and she wants nothing more than to fix what has been damaged by her and Venli's actions, by the machinations of the gods. But that doesn't change the fact that I had to look into her eyes and know that she would kill me if I stood in her path. That she was willing to kill every Listener who spoke out against her. I can't forget that. It's hard even to forgive it, even knowing all the ways it wasn't entirely her fault."

Rlain sighed, humming to Irritation—not at Thude, in particular, just at the situation. "I know," he said. "Believe me, I know. But can you try, at least?"

"I am trying," Thude said.

"Then that's all I can ask," Rlain sighed, attuning to Peace. "Are you willing to at least try and get more of the others to give her a second chance? Whatever support you and I can give her won't be enough if every other Listener in the tower is humming Betrayal every time they lay eyes on her."

"I can't promise much," Thude said. "I sympathize with them. I know you do too, but you're different. It's hard for me to both sympathize with them and be there for Eshonai at the same time, hard for me to understand how the others feel without feeling that way myself, and to feel that way without letting Eshonai see. But I'll try."

"Thank you."

"I don't think they'll let her continue leading us, though," Thude said, speaking now to Consideration. "Not even in name. If I try to get them to think about forgiving her, they'll first have to think about the fact that she's still officially our general. And I don't think they'll be happy with that."

"You may be right. But Eshonai without her rank, and with the forgiveness of her people, will be better off than Eshonai with the reverse."

"I agree. But we will still need a general. And… I don't know if you've considered this, but in our war against the gods, many of us would like to have a general who has already demonstrated that he can resist them, even on their own terms."

The Rhythm of Peace stuttered in Rlain's chest, replaced with Confusion.

Thude patted him on the shoulder. "Just something to think about," he said, still to Consideration, before turning away. Rlain watched him walk up the corridor, Confusion thrumming in his ears.

Me? he thought. Me, supreme military commander of the Listeners? It seemed an absurd thought. And yet, Thude's instincts for the feelings of the others were good. Was this really something they would push for?

As Rlain started walking towards the room he'd claimed, he remembered the little he had heard of what had passed between Sarus and Kaladin after his departure from the warcamp. Sarus had not discussed it in much detail, and Kaladin had left the tower barely a day after Sarus had awakened, but Moash, Murk, and Rock had been more willing to tell Rlain what they had seen. Rlain had heard about how, after Kaladin's arrest, it had been left to Sarus to take the position of Bridge Four's captain. Moash had thought that this promotion had been one of the wedges that had driven themselves between the two men once Kaladin was freed.

Rlain did not want to risk hurting Eshonai. Not if it was in his power to avoid it. He would have to handle this carefully. Perhaps he could discuss with Kaladin and Sarus—now that they had reconciled, they might have ideas on how to make reconciliation unnecessary.

He found himself attuning the Rhythm of Resolve almost without thinking about it. Ever since his time in stormform, that Rhythm had come more easily than any other. It seemed to be almost his default state, now. Stormform had turned his own mind against him—even now, nearly two weeks later, he still frequently caught himself reflexively second-guessing his own thoughts, his own decisions. But each time that happened, he would attune to Resolve and the doubts would fade into the background.

Rlain's people did not need him to be full of doubt, fear, and dread. They needed him to be resolute, as he had been when he forced his way through the Listener lines to confront Eshonai, as he had been when he told her the Words, as he had been when, even as his instincts screamed to fling red lightning at the soldiers around him, he had instead given Sarus and Dalinar his surrender.

So, he thought as he opened the door to his room. As he mused, he crossed to his window and opened the shutters. A skyeel floated in the distance, lazily drifting high above the clouds—and almost at his eye level, here at the top of the world. If the others try to make me their general… I can't simply refuse. That won't make them accept Eshonai. I suppose I'll just have to talk to Eshonai first, see how she feels about it. I can no more force the others to accept her as general than I can force them to trust her. Or force her to trust herself.

Suddenly, from behind him, there was the sound of a throat being cleared. He spun around to face whoever had snuck into his chambers. But instead of a human or a Listener, there was a small figure seated on a stone shelf that served as a table. The spren's back was to the wall, and his stonelike flesh seemed to meld into the mottled rock. His orange eyes glowed like the setting sun as he watched Rlain.

"I suspect you're not what I was expecting when I came to the Physical Realm," the spren said. "But I suppose I can't be sure, without much memory of Shadesmar."

Resolve spluttered and died in Rlain's throat. Instead, he found himself humming to Awe. "I… Greetings."

The spren chuckled. "Greetings, Rlain of First-Rhythms. I am Patu'ua. I suspect you know why I'm here."

"I…" Rlain shook his head slowly. "Why?"

Patu'ua cocked a stone eyebrow. "You're clearly aware of the return of the Knights Radiant, those your people call Neshua Kadal."

"No, I am. I mean—why me?"

Patu'ua shrugged. "Because you did what was needed, though it was difficult and dangerous. Because you want to support your friends, even when those around you doubt whether they deserve it. Because you watch, and listen, and learn, and do not judge. Because despite my reluctance to bond with a Singer, you've proven yourself more worthy than any other candidate. Because I think I can trust you."

Rlain swallowed, still humming to Awe. "I may not know the details," he said. "But I know that this is a risk for you. Are you certain? We still do not fully understand the enemy's powers over my people. Stormform required us to willingly, if not knowingly, submit ourselves. What if he has a way to turn us without that requirement? This could destroy you."

"Yes." Patu'ua's tone was calm and unaffected, as if he were discussing something of no more consequence than his most recent meal. "But so could inaction, if the enemy wins this war. We peakspren have been too complacent for too long. Besides—yes, the singers fought for the enemy in the old wars, but they also did not kill thousands of us during the Recreance. Perhaps there's enough guilt—and enough innocence—to go around. So yes, Rlain—despite the risk, despite the danger, I am certain. You know the words. Say them."

And so Rlain spoke.

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No update next week. I'm still recovering from spending all of October traveling. Didn't expect it to take this long to get my groove back.

Last edited: Nov 18, 2024

LithosMaitreya

Nov 18, 2024

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Threadmarks 80: Two Assassins

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LithosMaitreya

Character Witness

Subscriber

Dec 2, 2024

#1,980

Thanks to Elran and BeaconHill for betareading, and to Phinnia for the commissioned icon.

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Two Assassins

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I know you have contentious relationships with… well, just about all of our mutual acquaintances.

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"Captain Sarus!" The messenger snapped a salute almost before she had finished skidding to a stop before him. "The prisoners have arrived!"

Sarus blinked at her, leaning on Archive as he came to a stop in the hall. He had just finished a shift at the Oathgate, and was now on his way back to his quarters. But, well… "Has His Majesty been informed?" he asked.

"Yes, sir!" the messenger said. "It was he who sent me to fetch you! He said you'd had more success interrogating the Assassin in White than anyone else. He thought to ask if you'd be willing to try again."

Sarus nodded slowly. "Certainly," he said. "When you say the prisoners—I assume that's the Assassin in White and the former Shardbearer, Graves?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Did anyone ever find out Graves' real name?" Sarus asked.

The messenger shrugged. "If they did, no one told me, sir."

"Fine. Lead the way."

Sarus followed the messenger deeper into the tower, Archive clanking against the stone of the corridor as he went. Her voice echoed in his mind: Do you think you will have more success with the assassin now?

I think it's possible, Sarus said. I no longer have to keep my nature as a Knight Radiant secret—I no longer have to keep you hidden. That may be proof enough to break through the man's denial. We need to know who sent him—who holds his Oathstone. Even if they don't have another assassin with the powers of a Radiant, they are still certainly dangerous.

Indeed.

They reached the jail. It was not structured like an Alethi jail, instead merely a corridor of the tower flanked by relatively small rooms on both sides. A few rooms had been left open, their windows propped ajar to allow wind to pass through the corridor. It made the stone floors colder than most of the tower, but it also ensured that a whistling wind was flowing through the corridor most of the time—making it at least somewhat more difficult for one prisoner to hear the conversation occurring in another cell. The doors had been modified with barred windows cut into the wood, to ensure a guard could look in on the prisoners without exposing themselves to danger. But though the rooms had not been furnished with any of the comforts the Alethi and Listeners had brought to the tower, they still retained the Soulcast surfaces and slabs common to many rooms in Urithiru, and were thus somewhat more comfortable than any Alethi cell Sarus had ever languished in.

The messenger led Sarus directly to one cell, where a pale man in a once bright, now weather-stained white tunic and trousers sat clumped in a huddle in the corner. The Assassin's head had started to grow a patchwork of brown hair, though the growth seemed strangely uneven, some parts of his scalp seemingly unable to grow hair as quickly as others.

With a nod to the messenger and the guard patrolling the corridor, Sarus opened the door. The Assassin didn't look up. Sarus heard him muttering to himself, still the same mantra as the last time he had visited, all those weeks ago—I am Szeth-son-son-Vallano, I am Truthless, I am Szeth-son-son-Vallano, I am Truthless.

"Hello, Szeth," Sarus said, carefully easing himself down into a stone seat beside the wall opposite the man.

Szeth did not look up. Did not even stop muttering. Clearly, he was determined not to be shaken by Sarus this time.

Too bad. "I thought we could continue our conversation. Much has changed outside your cell."

Szeth ignored him, continuing to mutter.

"The Voidbringers have returned."

Szeth's mutterings cut off with a sudden choking grunt.

"I thought that would get your attention," Sarus said. "Yes—the Everstorm has rushed through Roshar multiple times now, and shows no sign of stopping. It appears to have in some way affected all the parshmen who serve the elites of all the realms of Roshar."

"Not Shinovar," Szeth said quietly. "We never kept those creatures. It was forbidden."

"Intriguing. Did your leaders know, then? Did they remember the history of the False Desolation, which we're only now beginning to piece together? Perhaps you had records which were not destroyed, as ours were, during the Hierocracy."

Szeth did not answer. But neither did he go back to muttering.

"Perhaps," Sarus said, "if your people had shared some of that information, our situation would not be so dire now. We are in Urithiru, you see—the lost tower-city of the Knights Radiant—and we've had little to no contact with Alethkar. We have no idea of the enemy's movements. We have no contact with most of our cities. All we know is that there are tens of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, of former parshmen somewhere in Alethkar, with every reason to hate us and an angry god spurring them to war. If we had known what the parshmen were in advance, there are numerous things we could have done to alleviate this in advance. But we did not, because your leaders did not think the truth was something that should be spread."

Szeth was silent.

"Do you not think that perhaps that is why you were named Truthless?" Sarus asked. "Not because you spoke falsehood, but because you spoke truth when they did not wish you to?"

"You know nothing of my people," Szeth mumbled. "A stonewalker like you could never understand."

"No," Sarus agreed. "I can't know whether your people actually knew anything about the parshmen, or if the reason you never kept them as servants was completely unrelated. I can't know whether your leaders knew anything about what was coming, and wanted you silenced for some reason, or if they simply did not want to face an idea as dreadful as a coming Desolation. Almighty knows, the leaders of Alethkar have done all they could to avoid facing this reality until it was far too late to prevent it. But, truth be told, I don't think it matters. Because this is fact: You told them the truth. The Voidbringers were coming, and the Knights Radiant were needed once more. They named you Truthless. And they were wrong."

Szeth shuddered, burying his face in his knees.

"They were wrong," Sarus repeated. "Or lying. The difference may matter to you, Szeth-son-son-Vallano, but it does not matter to me. Because the Shin leadership is not my concern. My concern is who sent a Truthless assassin, armed with an Honorblade, to kill so many monarchs across the world. They swore that assassin to secrecy, bound him by his tether to his Oathstone. But you are not Truthless, because you were named Truthless for speaking something that was not a lie. That oath was founded upon a false premise. It bound a Truthless, which you are not. So I ask you, once again: who sent you?"

Szeth took a shuddering breath. Then he raised his head. His dark green eyes, wide and bloodshot, met Sarus' own. "How can I know you are telling the truth?" he asked. "You are a strange thing, but Knights Radiant cannot ignore an Honorblade as you did. Maybe you are a Voidbringer. Or maybe you are something else entirely. You tell me that I am not Truthless, but you give me no proof."

Sarus considered him. Archive, he said silently. Do you think a living Shardblade might be proof enough for him?

Perhaps, she said.

He gestured with his staff. In his hand, it shifted, the metal flowing under his fingers until he held a long, thin blade. It was nothing so ornate as the oversized Blades so coveted by Alethi lighteyes. Archive was not so vain, and Sarus was not so pompous. His Shardblade was a simple thing, double-edged and straight, with no ornamentation beyond some swooping curves along the crossguard and pommel.

"Is this proof enough for you?" he asked. "Or do I need to demonstrate my Surgebinding, as well?"

The Surgebinding you have only just begun to learn? Archive asked, amused.

Hush. This will suffice.

And it did. Szeth's eyes followed the line of the Shardblade. Sarus saw the moment his spirit broke behind them. "They named me Truthless," the man whispered brokenly. "Hundreds are dead because they named me Truthless. Because I believed them."

"We cannot restore the dead to life," Sarus said. "But we can see to it that those who ordered their deaths are brought to justice. So tell me, Szeth-son-son-Vallano: who sent you?"

Szeth was silent for a long moment. Then he spoke. "King Taravangian," he whispered. "Of Jah Keved. He sent me to kill your Highprince Dalinar." Then he folded in on himself and said no more, his pale face buried in his arms.

Sarus leaned back. Taravangian. The only monarch, according to Dalinar, who was willing to entertain an alliance with Urithiru. Why would he be courting an alliance with Dalinar if he had sent the Assassin in White to kill Dalinar not three months ago? Why assassinate monarchs as far away as Iri and Azir? Surely he didn't think he could unify all those kingdoms merely by killing their current leaders?

What, exactly, was the man's plan?

"Can you give me any details?" Sarus asked. "What other targets did Taravangian assign? Who were you to attack after the highprince? Were you specifically instructed to leave the king alive?"

But Szeth gave no answer, and when Sarus stood he gave no indication that he was aware of it. With a shrug, Sarus left the cell. Hopefully, after he'd been given some time to recover, Szeth would be willing to share more information in a later conversation.

Sarus emerged from the cell, and immediately turned to the guard patrolling the corridor. "I assume you heard some of that," he said.

The guard nodded stiffly. "I'll not tell anyone, Captain. You've my word on that."

"Good," Sarus said. "I'll hold you to it. What's your name?"

"Lezik, sir."

"Lezik. Did anyone else pass this way? Did the messenger who fetched me stay long enough to hear any of that?"

"The messenger left just after you went in. I saw Highprince Dalinar and Prince Renarin a ways down the corridor a few minutes ago, but not close enough to hear your conversation, sir."

"Good. Which way? I need to tell the highprince about this at once. Also, how much longer is your shift?"

"That way." The guard pointed. "I've got a few hours yet."

"Then I'll go tell the highprince about this before I go to interrogate the other prisoner. If I'm still in the cell when your shift changes, come let me know, all right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good man." Sarus turned and limped down the hallway, Archive thudding against the stone beside him.

Can we trust Lezik to keep these secrets? she asked. If word reaches Taravangian that his assassin has betrayed him…

If Taravangian is wise, he will have assumed that Szeth's silence is a temporary reprieve at best, Sarus said. The goal is not to keep the secret forever. The goal is to control when it is revealed.

It took him more than a quarter of an hour to find where Dalinar and Renarin had gone. Realistically, that was not very long at all. It would have been scarcely five minutes if he were still able to walk properly. They had gone to a training room not far from here, and Dalinar was watching Renarin spar with the ardent Zahel. Sarus noticed at once that Renarin's Shardblade was new. Glys, it seemed, had learned to take Blade form. "Brightlord," Sarus said, raising his hand to get Dalinar's attention from across the large chamber.

"Carry on," Dalinar said to his son. "I'll return in a moment." Then he came over to speak with Sarus. "Captain. What is it?"

"I've just finished interrogating the Assassin in White," Sarus said. "I've had a breakthrough, Brightlord. I know who sent him."

Dalinar's eyes widened. "Who?"

"King Taravangian."

Dalinar's expression fell into open bewilderment. "What? Taravangian? But—he's the only person who was willing to discuss allying against Odium! Why would he do that after trying to have Elhokar killed?"

"That's another thing," Sarus said. "Apparently, the Assassin was not sent for Elhokar. He was sent for you. I don't know why. Nor does the Assassin. Given that, I'd recommend continuing to court King Taravangian for now, Brightlord."

"What?" Dalinar looked startled. "Even though he's already tried to assassinate me once?"

"And even though he apparently did assassinate all his rivals for the throne of Jah Keved, yes. We have no reason to believe that plan was in any way related to the Desolation. It's entirely possible that, with the coming of the Everstorm, he has put aside more mundane ambitions in favor of seeking survival. If that's the case, better to have him as an unpleasant ally than as another enemy, don't you think?"

Dalinar grimaced. "I don't like the idea of working with a man who would do such things."

"I don't like the idea of living through a Desolation. Needs must, Brightlord. Besides—it is possible that his plans run deeper. The Assassin did not know them. By keeping relations cordial, we may be able to learn more. If nothing else, do not make things more difficult for our spies."

Dalinar nodded slowly. "Very well. I'll instruct my scribes to continue communicating with his by spanreed. He and I have just started discussing the possibility of opening his Oathgate. Maybe inviting him to Urithiru will present an opportunity for you to learn more."

"I'll try, Brightlord."

"Good." Dalinar nodded at him. "I know you've been busy with the Oathgate. Have your lieutenants kept you apprised of their shifts guarding my family and my nephew?"

"They have, Brightlord. There have been no signs of any other threats to any of your safety. I suspect that, with the Assassin in White and Graves both in custody, the worst threats are past for now."

"Very good. I'll let you get back to it. We can discuss the details of our plans for Taravangian once I have a more concrete plan for inviting him to the Tower."

"Yes, Brightlord." Sarus saluted him, then nodded to Renarin across the room before turning to go.

I've been meaning to ask you, Archive, he said as he clanked his way back to the jail. Now that I've sworn another Ideal, your memories are likely a little clearer, yes?

A little. She confirmed. I came to the Physical Realm in search of another Inkspren who crossed over first. He called himself Ivory. He came in defiance of our leaders, who did not wish to expose ourselves to Nahel bonds again. He inspired me to do the same.

Did you find him?

No, she said. I found you instead.

Sarus found himself unexpectedly warmed by that. I hope your friend is well.

As do I. But my regrets are not.

Nor mine. Sarus shook his head. But I wanted to ask—do you remember any spren that looked like Glys, now that your memories are a little clearer?

No, she said. My confidence is that there were no such spren in Shadesmar.

Then what is he?

Uncertainty is. She hesitates. Temptation is to distrust him. He and Renarin left the messages on Dalinar's wall. Such foresight is a power belonging to no Surge I know.

You think he works for Melkor? Sarus asked, eyes narrowing.

No, she said after a pause. If Glys worked for the enemy, he would not have tied himself to Renarin, who tried to warn us. Whatever Glys is, I do not think him a traitor. Not willingly, at least. But secrets are. And consequences, unintended or otherwise, may be.

Sarus nodded. We'll keep an eye on them, he promised. Unless you think we should confront them?

Perhaps. But not yet.

They came to a cell Sarus had passed on the way to Dalinar. Inside, Graves lay back against his cot, staring up at the mottled stone of the ceiling. "Hello, Graves," Sarus called through the bars. "I hope your stay has been comfortable."

Graves didn't answer. He didn't even turn to look at Sarus.

"Don't be coy now," Sarus said. "You came willingly, if you recall. Your secrets clearly weren't worth your life. Why guard them so jealously now?"

"You threatened to make me a cripple explicitly so you wouldn't have to kill me," Graves said without looking at Sarus. "The fact that I wanted to keep my arms does not mean I intended to tell you anything."

"Ah, but you could have turned your Blade on yourself," Sarus said. "If your secrets were truly the most important thing to you, surely you would have. You did not."

He saw Graves' face twitch. The man, he suspected, had not even considered suicide as a way to escape interrogation. Sarus wondered if that was a sign of stability.

"Regardless," he said. "You're here now. And I do not operate only on threats. I am one of the inner circle of Radiants in this tower now. I have resources I could not have dreamed of only a few weeks ago. And I can afford to be very generous with them."

"You have nothing I want," Graves said.

"That is clearly a lie," Sarus said. "You are a man. That means you want. We can't help it, mortal creatures as we are. The only question is, what do you want?"

Graves turned his head and shot Sarus a look of such venom he thought Melkor himself might have been impressed. "There is nothing you can give me that will be worth betraying what I stand for."

Sarus leaned against Archive thoughtfully. "And what if I do not demand betrayal?" he asked. "Let me ask you a few very basic questions. Who knows, we might find common ground. Tell me, Graves—do you work for Odium?"

Graves' expression twisted into something like a sneer. He spoke no words, but Sarus saw the answer in his expression nonetheless.

"That's a no, then," he mused aloud. "You see? We don't need to be enemies. We have a common foe. I don't care who you work for, Graves. I have much bigger problems. The dark god returning from millennia in Damnation is at the top of the list."

"You know nothing," Graves said. "And you understand less than nothing. You think you can fight a god in a pitched battle? When your precious king can't even convince Alethkar to band together long enough to kill an army of savages after five full years?"

"Where on earth did I ever give you the impression that the king of Alethkar was precious to me?" Sarus asked. Then he leaned back. "So. You wanted to replace King Elhokar. With Highprince Dalinar, I assume?"

Graves' expression twisted. It was as good as confirmation.

"Fascinating," Sarus murmured. "So much seems to revolve around this one question—who should have been Gavilar's heir? His son, or his brother? Why does that question matter so much to so many people? They're both Kholin lighteyes. Buds on a single vine."

"They couldn't be more different," Graves ground out.

"I suppose they're not identical," Sarus said. "But why does the difference matter? Or rather, what is the difference that matters? What do you think Alethkar needs in a king, Graves?"

"Strength," Graves said immediately. "Force of will. An Alethi king should be a warrior, not a mewling child throwing feasts and prancing about in fine clothes while the people who killed his father are still alive."

Sarus leaned back. Now they were getting somewhere. "You really do see yourself as an Alethi patriot, don't you?" he asked.

"I am an Alethi patriot."

"But that's not all you are. You're an intelligent man, Graves, clearly. I'm actually very impressed. Not with every attempt you made on His Majesty's life—that cut railing wasn't likely to succeed—but in the way you organized your conspiracy. You infiltrated this army as a low-ranking lighteyes, keeping your Shards secret, because you knew you would need to use those Shards in your attempts on the king's life. You didn't hesitate to make a somewhat clumsy attempt on Elhokar's life with the railing, because you knew suspicion couldn't fall back on you—even if Moash was caught, he wouldn't be able to identify you beyond a cursory description, one easily changed by disguise. You were willing to take risks in the hopes of gaining more effective co-conspirators, like Kaladin. But you ensured, at every step, that even if you were stopped, even if you were betrayed, that the core of your conspiracy, this secret you are so determined to protect—that would remain safe. You gave reasons why you wanted Elhokar removed freely—that he is a poor king, that Dalinar would be better for Alethkar—but you kept that last secret well hidden."

Graves' teeth were gritted, his eyes flashing with hate as he stared Sarus down. He said nothing as Sarus continued his deduction.

"I don't think you're lying about the reasons you think Elhokar is a poor king," Sarus said. "But I am left wondering—if a man has already been caught attempting regicide, and if he is already open as to why he is attempting regicide, what exactly does he have to keep secret? I can come to only one conclusion." Sarus leaned against the bars. "You have a patron, Graves. Perhaps someone who gave you that Shardblade. You aren't just doing this of your own volition. You represent someone. Someone you think should not be exposed."

Graves did not answer.

"Was it Highprince Sadeas?" Sarus asked evenly. Graves did not react, so he smiled. "No, I thought not. Sadeas was a snake, but he was too greedy to give an unaffiliated agent a Blade and Plate. Nor would he have ever trusted them to someone else without giving them much more obvious chains to bind them to him. Besides—he hated Dalinar, far more than he hated Elhokar. So. Another Highprince? Aladar, perhaps? Ruthar? Roion? No, no. I'm cracking the wrong rockbud entirely, aren't I? No, none of the highprinces would prefer Dalinar over Elhokar as king—King Elhokar gives them freedom that Dalinar would not. No… your patron isn't Alethi at all, are they?"

Graves' eyes widened imperceptibly.

"There we are," Sarus said with relish. "But most of Roshar's monarchs, particularly Alethkar's neighbors, see Highprince Dalinar as the Blackthorn. The mad dog of King Gavilar. They much prefer having the milder Elhokar, who will not push against their borders so much. So who, exactly—"

"Shardbreaker!"

Sarus started, and turned to face the messenger running down the corridor. It was not the same woman who had summoned him to the jail earlier, but this man had the same sort of eager fascination in his eyes as he saluted. "Shardbreaker, sir," he said. "Lieutenant Kaladin has returned. Highprince Dalinar has called a meeting of the Knights Radiant."

"Thank you," Sarus said. He glanced back at Graves. "We are not finished, you and I," he said. "This will all be easier for you if, when I return, you simply tell me what I wish to know." Then he turned and followed the messenger away, leaving Graves staring after him through the bars of his cell.

Last edited: Dec 5, 2024

LithosMaitreya

Dec 2, 2024

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Threadmarks 81: Pact-Bearer

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LithosMaitreya

Character Witness

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Dec 9, 2024

#1,998

Thanks to Elran and BeaconHill for betareading.

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Pact-Bearer

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Your own damn fault, for the record. I may not have done much to maintain my friendships, but you've actively burned every bridge you can get your hands on. Not a winning strategy if you ever want to get people's help in the future, although I assume you never intended on asking for it.

-x-x-x-

The highstorm roared beneath Kaladin as he Lashed himself forward. The first highstorm of the year—and the first opportunity he'd had to return to Urithiru. Thank the Almighty that Alethkar was in the east, so that he could ride the storm west towards the tower. Otherwise, he'd run out of Stormlight after an hour or two at most, and then where would he be?

LEFT! Syl's voice screamed in his ear.

Without looking, he Lashed himself to the left—just in time. A bolt of crackling red light flashed through the air where he had just been, sailing down and vanishing into the angry clouds of the storm below. A few seconds later, he heard a sound like a thunderclap as the projectile hit the ground and detonated. He hoped no one had been down there.

Forty-five, Syl said without needing to be asked. Forty-four. Forty-three…

It was Kaladin's first time fighting in the sky like this. He was getting better. But his opponent was also getting more accurate.

With Syl counting down the seconds until the enemy would be able to launch another blast, Kaladin was free to engage. He spun himself around and Lashed himself upward to get a better vantage, falling towards the sunlight above. He passed the Voidbringer—a Parshendi-like woman with ridges not unlike those he had seen on the Listeners in stormform, wearing long robes that flowed in the wind more than ten feet behind her—and then Lashed himself directly at her, stabbing with his Sylspear.

The Voidbringer danced to the side, red eyes alight with the thrill of battle, lancing at him with her own weapon—a polearm with a curved blade at the end. He tried to cut through the wooden haft with his Sylspear, but she withdrew the weapon just enough that the blade of the spear sparked against the strange metal of the polearm's head.

Thirty-four, Syl said. Thirty-three…

Kaladin feinted left, then drew back the Sylspear for a lightning-quick blow to the right. The Voidbringer caught the blow on her weapon again, then drove the blade forward, its flat skidding against the shimmering metal of the Sylspear, trying to sever Kaladin's fingers. Kaladin barely reacted in time, knocking the blade aside with a shove and Lashing himself backward at the same time, giving him a momentary reprieve before he Lashed himself back into the battle again. They clashed again, spear-tip on polearm-blade, Kaladin's narrowed eyes luminous in pale blue, the Voidbringer's wide with gleeful red fire.

Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven. Twenty-six…

Kaladin could not duel for long, lest he lose the highstorm and his source of renewable Stormlight. He Lashed himself away and sailed westward again. In the distance, he could see the mountains of Ur rising like jagged teeth into the sunlight. He couldn't yet see Urithiru itself, but he knew where it was—nestled between three or four of the highest peaks of the range, high enough that the highstorm would pass far beneath even its base.

Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen…

Kaladin had learned a great deal about his powers in the past few hours. Dueling a Voidbringer had that effect, it seemed. He could Lash himself multiple times in the same direction to fall that way at double or triple speed, or even faster. Unfortunately, he couldn't use that to get to Urithiru faster, because he would outrun the storm and run out of Stormlight. He didn't like his chances of dodging the Voidbringer's attacks while grounded.

Fifteen. Fourtee—DODGE!

Kaladin lashed himself to the side repeatedly, changing the angle with each action so that he curved downward and away—just in time. The Voidbringer's polearm scythed through the air where he had been flying. She followed him downward, but he spun, slashing at her with his Sylspear, and she danced up and away.

I've lost count! Syl exclaimed. Ten-ish! Nine-ish!

Just keep an eye on her! Kaladin ordered. Let me know when she looks like she's going to attack again! He double-Lashed himself westward and sped away.

The next eight—or was it nine?—seconds were quiet. His every muscle was tense. The Stormlight flowing through his body seemed to boil, ready at any moment to explode outward in any direction. Then—RIGHT! Syl screamed.

He obeyed, and the blast sailed right through where his head had been. This time, he was able to follow the bolt of red light with his eyes as it sailed over the storm clouds, flying faster than any arrow across the sky, neither slowing nor dropping until it struck the side of one of the mountains in the distance. There was a flash as a sphere of flame ignited the mountainside, sending up a plume of smoke which billowed outward at its top like the bell of a vinebud emerging after a rain. An instant later, a boom, louder than the thunder below them—and then, the rock and snow of the mountainside began to fall in an avalanche, crumbling down into the valley below.

Forty-five, Syl began, shakily, to count once more.

Kaladin turned and threw himself at the Voidbringer again. She deflected his first thrust with her polearm, then slashed at his belly. He parried and went for her throat. She dropped low, sailing under him, slashing at his legs as she went. He went high, then dove for her chest.

Suddenly, she was withdrawing, falling back away from him. Even as he prepared to chase her down, her mouth opened and a resonant voice shouted above the fury of the highstorm below—"Enough!"

He paused. She slowed to a halt, drawing the polearm back into a resting position—albeit one from which she could quickly transition into an attack. "You fight well, Windrunner!" she called. "I thought your kind would never come again to Roshar, yet here you are. Enough—we are near to your tower, now, and I am not to approach it alone or unprepared."

"Don't want to deal with my reinforcements?" Kaladin panted.

She grinned. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I don't want to show my entire hand."

Show her hand? He was at once torn between dread at the idea that the Voidbringer might have even more abilities to use and incredulity that an ancient being sealed in Damnation since Aharietiam knew how to play card games.

"I am Rine, Pact-Chosen of the Shanay-im," said the Voidbringer. "The Heavenly Ones, in your tongue. What do they call you, Windrunner?"

"Kaladin," Kaladin said.

"Then, Kaladin, I salute you." And she did, raising her polearm slightly in respect. "You are clearly new to the skies. But you master them quickly. You do your order proud. I look forward to doing battle with you again." And with that, she turned and flew away, her robes a fluttering trail behind her as she disappeared into the eastern sky.

For a long moment, Kaladin simply watched her go, breathing heavily. Then he turned and Lashed himself into the west, towards the crumbling mountain in the distance. Keep one eye on her, he told Syl. In case she decides to go for my back.

Of course, Syl promised.

But the Voidbringer did not attack again.

-x-x-x-

Kaladin staggered as he set down, at long last, on one of Urithiru's many balconies. Stormlight had knitted together the soreness in his muscles, had filled him with all of the energy he could need to recover—but he was still tired in a bone-deep way that had nothing to do with physical exertion and everything to do with the mental strain of avoiding the sorcery of a Voidbringer for several hours of flight.

For a long moment, he just leaned against the cold railing, taking in deep breaths of strangely warm, strangely full air. Flying about the highstorm, he had noticed that even when he breathed deeply, he felt as though he was only getting a portion of the air he expected. But somehow, here on Urithiru, that problem went away. Stormlight had helped, but it was nice not to feel the constant drain, even if the storm had kept Stormlight flowing into him as fast as it flowed out.

"Sir!"

Kaladin looked up to see a sentry coming out the door onto the balcony with him. He saluted. He wore Aladar maroon, but he looked at Kaladin with wide, awed eyes that made Kaladin want to shift in discomfort. He resisted the urge. "Where is Highprince Dalinar?" he asked. "I have news."

"I believe he's on the lower levels of the tower, sir," said the sentry. "He was training with Prince Renarin, last I heard. There's a training ground on the twelfth floor that they've taken to using."

Kaladin nodded. "I'll go find him. Thanks."

-x-x-x-

"Kaladin," Sarus greeted as he limped into the meeting room. He held out the hand not propping himself up on his staff.

Kaladin clasped it, then stepped in to clap the man on the shoulder. "Sarus," he said. "Good to see you walking." He stepped back, noting the staff, the jet-black metal reflective in a way painted steel could not replicate. "Archive?"

The staff shifted under Sarus' hand, transforming into a familiar woman with ink-black skin shimmering in the light. She put an arm around her Radiant, supporting him as she had as a staff, while giving Kaladin a nod. "Yes. We have been practicing changing my shape in the Physical Realm. I assume you and Syl have been doing the same?"

"Somewhat," Kaladin said. "Although—Syl, we really should experiment with how fast you can transform. It would be nice to be able to surprise people with a weapon that changes mid-swing."

"I think I can do that," Syl said, settling on a corner of the table in the center of the meeting room with crossed legs. "The hard part will be communicating what shape I should take, and exactly when, in the middle of a fight. But we can practice."

"There'll be time to catch up later," Dalinar said, taking a seat at the head of the table. The other Radiants, Kaladin included, took that as a cue to take their own seats.

"Will Eshonai be joining us?" Sarus asked.

"I sent a runner for her," Dalinar said. He had immediately called this meeting when Kaladin had found him, sending messengers to find all of the other Radiants. "She should—"

The door opened and two Listeners bustled in. Kaladin hadn't interacted much with Eshonai, but he recognized her, the carapace of warform making her look fierce despite the awkward, almost hunted expression on her face. Behind her stepped Rlain, also in warform, his lips pressed together in something like reluctance.

"Ah," Sarus said. "Rlain. Good. Care to introduce us?"

Rlain shot Sarus a look. Kaladin thought he heard the man humming something for a moment before he sighed. "Patu'ua?" he said. A question?

No—a name. A spren appeared on his shoulder, nodding at Sarus. Its body seemed to be made of stone, with orange light streaming out of its eyes and through the cracks between the rocky plates. "Hello," he said. "I am Patu'ua, a peakspren. Rlain is my Stoneward."

King Elhokar, sitting to Dalinar's right, sighed. "Will you do that every time someone new is chosen by a spren, Captain?"

Sarus grinned. "With luck, we'll soon have enough Radiants that it would be impractical, Your Majesty."

Kaladin frowned. He recognized everyone else in the room—Renarin, Shallan, Dalinar. Wait. His eyes widened as he looked at the king. "Wait—you?"

Elhokar flushed with a nod. "A Lightweaver, like Brightness Shallan," he said. "My spren's name is Design."

"I can introduce myself," said a woman's voice from a small pattern of shadows on the wall behind the king. "Hello, Windrunner. Planning any assassinations today?"

Kaladin flinched.

"That will do, Design," Sarus said evenly, but somehow his voice boomed throughout the room. "If you wish to air your grievances with Lieutenant Kaladin, you may do so on your own time. For now, we have business to attend to."

"Indeed," Dalinar said, though Kaladin couldn't help searching his face for any sign of displeasure. Was he still angry about Kaladin's role in the attempt on his nephew's life? He had every right to be. But Dalinar was all business as he turned to face Kaladin, gesturing at the map of Roshar spread out over the table between them. "Lieutenant. Your report?"

Kaladin nodded, standing and looking over the map. "I scouted northward from the Shattered Plains up through western Alethkar," he said. Visiting Hearthstone—home—again had been… difficult. His parents had barely recognized him. They'd been told he and Tien were both dead. He'd never—Kaladin had never actually contacted them, to tell them about Tien's death. It had been too raw, and his guilt too fresh. They'd had another child, perhaps a year ago. His name was Oroden. Kaladin had wanted to find a way to smuggle them to Urithiru, but his father had refused to abandon his duties as the town's surgeon.

"Kaladin?" Sarus said quietly.

Kaladin shook his head sharply and returned to his report. "I encountered the former parshmen around here." He points to a location in the borderlands between the Sadeas, Aladar, and Vamah highprincedoms. "The parshmen had attacked the grain storage of a village called Hornhollow, and I tracked them from there. They were moving southeast, directly towards Kholinar. The group was accompanied by at least one spren—a voidspren, Syl called it."

"A spren of Odium," Renarin murmured, almost too quietly to be heard. "Splinters of the enemy, just as our spren are splinters of Honor and Cultivation."

Kaladin nodded at him. "It detected me and sounded the alarm. The parshmen had no real weapons or training—just repurposed farming equipment. I still had a few infused spheres I'd traded for in Hornhollow, so I figured I could get away if I needed to. So I decided to surrender to them, and see what I could figure out."

"They were conscious?" Rlain asked, sitting up. "Aware? People?"

Kaladin nodded. "Syl said something about that. Obviously the Everstorm did this. What was it you said, Syl?"

"I don't know the details," she said with a shrug of her tiny shoulders. "The storm—Odium's power—must have… filled in the gaps in their souls. Reforged their Connections, restored their Identity."

Archive let out a grunt. "The Radiants who fought in the False Desolation must have found a way to systematically attack their spirits. But then how were the Listeners spared?"

"I don't know," Syl said.

"Either way," Kaladin said. "They were—they were just people. People who have suffered their entire lives, who have been forced to watch as terrible things are done to them without the ability to do anything about it."

"Then they remember their treatment as slaves?" Sarus asked.

Kaladin nodded grimly. "They really hate us. I spoke with one—Sah, he had his daughter with him, he remembered her mother being sold as breeding stock. They blame us."

Dalinar sighed. "We could not have known."

"And, once again, that cannot matter to them," Sarus said. "I am sure individual parshmen—"

"Singers," Rlain said. "Our race are called singers. The word features in our oldest songs. For a long time, we have thought 'singer' and 'Listener' were one and the same, but I suspect now that Listener is a word for those of us who turned away from the gods. Singer is the word for all of us."

"Singers, then," Sarus said with a nod to Rlain. "I am sure there are individual singers who can find it in themselves to forgive the Alethi. But the singers writ large? There is too much bitterness, too much hurt, for it to be so simple."

"Then there's nothing we can do?" Shallan asked. "I mean, surely there's some way to resolve things with them without having to kill all of them, or have them kill all of us."

"Certainly," Sarus said. "But I expect it will involve reparations of some kind. And it's difficult to have a conversation on that point when we don't even have contact with Kholinar, which it appears the singers are marching on as we speak."

"And there's… more," Kaladin said slowly. "It's not just voidspren and singers. There's also the Voidbringers."

Shallan blinked. "I thought the singers were the Voidbringers?"

Kaladin shook his head grimly. "There are some singers who are different. They have different forms—advanced ones, like stormform. I only saw a couple of them. One of them chased me all the way back to the mountains of Ur. She called herself Rine, Pact-Chosen of the Shanay-im. Apparently that word means 'Heavenly Ones'?"

"Not in our language," Rlain said thoughtfully, leaning forward. "Not in any dialect we speak now, at least."

"I see the similarity, though," Eshonai said quietly. "Im isn't too far from mim—one. And shanay isn't too far off from Nishiya, which means 'sky'."

"An ancient singer language, then," Sarus said. "We'll have to consult what historical records we have, see if we can trace any manuscripts written about Voidbringers. But that is not our priority—tell us about this Rine, Lieutenant. You say she chased you—was she able to use the Surge of Gravitation?"

"In some form," Kaladin said. "I don't think she Lashed herself the way I do—or if she did, she was much better at it than I am. She just flew. Made it look easy. And…" he hesitated. "She had another ability. An attack."

"Every forty-five seconds," Syl said, "she could throw a bolt of light. It exploded when it hit something. One of them hit one of the mountains on our way to the tower. It caused an avalanche. If one of them had hit Kaladin…"

"I'd be dead," Kaladin said flatly. "I'd be very dead. And she could launch those things… miles. As long as she had an unobstructed line of sight."

"That… does not sound like any Surgebinding I recognize," Archive said slowly.

"Me either," Syl admitted. "I was hoping you'd recognize it."

That is not Surgebinding, the Stormfather's voice echoed in the room. That is something new.

"Excellent," Sarus leaned back in his chair with a grimace. "I suppose we already didn't know the details of the enemy's capabilities. But now we can't even assume they'll operate on the same rules we do. Did she even use Stormlight to fuel these bolts?"

"I don't know," Kaladin admitted. "We were flying over a highstorm, so it's possible. But then, why every forty-five seconds?"

"You said she chased you back to the mountains?" Sarus asked. "How did you lose her?"

"I didn't," Kaladin admitted. "When we reached the mountains, she stopped, gave me her name, and turned back towards Alethkar."

Sarus made a sound of frustration. "Excellent. So we have a Voidbringer—at least one—with capabilities that sound like a siege weapon more fearsome than any on Roshar, who for some reason decided not to bring them to bear against Urithiru. Did she say why?"

"No," Kaladin said. "She just said she 'was not to approach it alone or unprepared.'"

"Damnation," Sarus cursed. "That does complicate matters. She could attack tomorrow—she could attack today—and we would have no way to respond. Or, storms, she could turn those abilities on Kholinar. Or any other city on Roshar. Why hasn't she?"

Silence fell. No one had any answer. In the quiet, Kaladin became aware of sound outside the room. There was some sort of commotion outside the door. He turned just in time to see it burst open.

"Ah—begging your pardon, Brightlords, B-Brightladies," said a stuttering clerk, nervously looking around the room. "Only, there's been a—"

"Enough, I can introduce myself." A woman swept past him. Her eyes were pale violet, and her long, dark hair was tied back in a simple tail. She scanned the room, her eyes going from Dalinar, to Elhokar, to Renarin, to Shallan.

All four lighteyed Radiants stood up. "Sister," Elhokar breathed.

Jasnah Kholin gave him a stiff nod. "Brother. Uncle. Cousin. And Shallan—I hear I have you to thank for guiding everyone to Urithiru?"

-x-x-x-

I've been having too much difficulty keeping up with my weekly updates even when I am actively trying to write. As such, I am transitioning to an every-other-week schedule. The next chapter will therefore be released on the 23rd instead of the 16th.

LithosMaitreya

Dec 9, 2024

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Threadmarks 82: The Other Elsecaller

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LithosMaitreya

Character Witness

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Dec 23, 2024

#2,038

Thanks to Elran and BeaconHill for betareading, and to Phinnia for the commissioned icon.

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The Other Elsecaller

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I'll talk to some of the others for you. They're less likely to want Rayse to tear me to pieces than they are you.

-x-x-x-

Sarus staggered to his feet despite the shaking of his frail legs. The others all stood as well.

"Jasnah," Dalinar said roughly. Sarus glanced over and saw that the man's face had softened in sincere relief. It was perhaps the tenderest expression Sarus had ever seen on it. "You're alive."

"I am," Jasnah said. "Although it was a near thing for a while." She looked between them all. "I was told this was a meeting of the Knights Radiant, here in Urithiru. Is that the case?"

"Yes," Dalinar said. "Then—you are…?"

"For years now, yes," Jasnah said. "An Elsecaller, if that means anything to you."

Dalinar glanced over at Sarus, who nodded before looking back at Jasnah. "That makes two of us," he said. He looked down at Archive, studying Jasnah from her seat on the edge of the table, before turning back to the princess. "Your inkspren wouldn't happen to be named Ivory, would they?"

She blinked. "…As a matter of fact, he is."

"It is good to hear he is well," Archive said. "I came to the Physical Realm after him. My hope of yet finding him was not."

Jasnah considered Archive for a moment before meeting Sarus' gaze. In her eyes, Sarus saw glittering intelligence and an icy tower of unbent pride. He knew at once that here was a kindred spirit—one who would not allow herself to be steered, as he so often steered others. Then she turned to look at the rest of the Radiants. "I see we also have a pair of Parshendi. Are they here as liasons, or have the higher spren decided to extend Nahel bonds to them as well?"

"We are Radiants, Brightness," Rlain said, a little stiffly. "And we have no more love of Odium than you."

Jasnah nodded slowly. "I'd be interested in discussing exactly what your people know of the enemy. But first—I have news." She stepped forward and pulled up a seat beside her uncle.

"W-wait," Elhokar stuttered. "How did you even survive? Brightness Shallan said she saw you die!"

"It was dark," Shallan murmured. "But—I could have sworn I saw the pirates stab you right through the chest!"

"They did," Jasnah said evenly. "But I had enough Stormlight to recover from that. I did not have enough to Soulcast the lot of them, however. So I turned to my other Surge for my best chance of escape."

"Transportation," Sarus said.

"I opened a temporary Perpendicularity and entered Shadesmar," she said, nodding at him. "I am fortunate that we were over water at the time. What is water in the Physical Realm is land in Shadesmar, and vice-versa. Unfortunately, Elsecalling back to the Physical Realm from Shadesmar is not possible without some sort of anchor, so I was unable to return for some time. But I was able to gather some intelligence while I was stuck there. Odium's forces had, at the time when I crossed over, perhaps two weeks ago, not yet crossed over into the Physical Realm in large numbers. The vast majority are still trapped in the Cognitive Realm."

"Trapped how?" Sarus asked, leaning forward. "Archive mentioned the existence of a permanent Perpendicularity somewhere on Roshar that allows travel between Realms. Does something prevent them from using it, or is it being held against them?"

"The reverse, unfortunately," Jasnah said grimly. "The enemy's forces have blockaded Cultivation's Perpendicularity in the Horneater Peaks. I originally tried to make my way there to cross back to the Physical Realm, but couldn't get through. It seems, however, that the Voidbringers can't use the Perpendicularity. Not if they want to be as powerful as they can be."

"Why?" Sarus asked.

"Because they have no physical bodies in this Realm. The creatures we call Voidbringers—the ones that were imprisoned on the world we call Damnation over four millennia ago—are essentially spren. Malignant, ancient spren, with mortal minds driven mad by the centuries of hatred in which they've been stewing, but still Cognitive beings. If they were to cross over using Cultivation's Perpendicularity, they would be as diminished as our spren are before the Nahel bond is forged. Far from the deadly warriors Odium demands."

"The Voidbringer I fought wasn't just a spren," Kaladin said. "I've never fought anything like it. The legends don't do them justice."

"You fought one?"

Kaladin nodded. "Earlier today, on my way back to Urithiru. She called herself Rine, Pact-Bearer of the Shanay-im."

"I've no idea what a Pact-Bearer is," Jasnah said. "But the 'Shanay-im' are one of the nine Brands of Fused. That is what the Voidbringers seek to become—Fused. That is how they unlock their power in this realm. I've only heard vague rumors, but it apparently involves a partnership between the ancient Voidbringer spren and a modern singer, not entirely unlike the Nahel bond between Radiant and spren."

"And how is that partnership formed?" Dalinar asked. "In our case, the spren finds a prospective Radiant, who must then say the First Ideal. Is it similar for the Fused?"

Jasnah shook her head. "I don't know. But I doubt it demands as much. Odium is… not like Honor. He does not care to ensure his power is used only by the deserving. Only that it is used on his behalf. And," she nodded at Kaladin, "if the Fused he fought seemed skilled, it seems unlikely that the modern formerly-enslaved parshman was in control of her body."

"Even stormform threatened our control over our own minds and bodies," Rlain said. "It seems all too likely that a true god—a true ancient singer, a Voidbringer as you call them—would entirely subsume our will, if they found their way into a singer's gemheart."

"And yet, it cannot be that simple," Sarus countered. "Because if it was, every singer currently in Urithiru would already have been converted into a Fused. Why would Odium waste his time amassing an army in Alethkar when he could create one on the inside of the Tower?"

"I do know that the 'Everstorm' his servants have created is involved in the process of creating a Fused," Jasnah said. "Perhaps the parshman must be outside during the Everstorm, in the same way that a sphere must be outside during a highstorm to become infused?"

Yes. The Stormfather's voice echoed in the chamber. And yes, the ancient singer entirely subsumes the modern parshman. The parshman provides the body; the spren provides the mind. This is the fusion. It is not a Nahel bond.

"Clearly," Jasnah said, leaning forward, resting her chin on her clasped hands. "Which of you is the Bondsmith?"

"Me," Dalinar said.

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? I knew you were changing these past five years, but I didn't realize how much."

Dalinar visibly flushed. "I… was I really so much worse, when you were young?"

She shot him a pitying look. "Suffice to say that the man I knew as a child would not have been deemed worthy by a Sliver of Honor."

Dalinar looked away.

Sarus was impressed. It wasn't that he hadn't thought much the same of Dalinar, but the sheer courage, the refusal to be bound by expectation or caution… he could never be Jasnah Kholin, and he wondered how often her sharp tongue must have pierced the roof of her own mouth throughout her life, but he could not help but respect her.

"Can Fused even be killed?" Jasnah asked, eyes on the ceiling as she spoke to the Stormfather. "I'd expect that killing their body would just banish the spren back to Shadesmar."

Just so. Then they can return to the Physical Realm the next time the Everstorm passes, so long as they can find a host body.

"There is an obvious solution, then," Jasnah said. "Remove all the host bodies."

…Ah. That would be the sharp tongue stinging the roof of her mouth, then.

"Are you suggesting driving singers—us—extinct!?" Eshonai exclaimed, leaping to her feet.

Jasnah shot her a look. "I don't consider it a good idea," she said. "Merely a base case. If there is absolutely no other solution—"

"Even if it were not deeply immoral," Sarus interrupted, "it would simply not be feasible. The singers are a distributed population of hundreds of thousands of individuals spread across all Roshar. They are rapidly organizing, they have better communications than we do through the enemy's voidspren, and a not-insignificant portion of our own forces are made up of singers."

"More to the point," Rlain said, his quiet voice plodding to a stiff, implacable rhythm, "if you think that option is worth considering, you do not understand the war we fight. You do not understand why we fight it."

"Odium has offered no terms for our surrender," Dalinar said. "We suspect, at this point, that he intends to drive humanity extinct. But we don't actually know that. He hasn't claimed it. I have no intention of stooping even lower than the god that killed the Almighty."

Jasnah raised her hands. "Fine, fine," she said. "You're right, of course. But that does mean that rather than one extremely unpleasant win-condition for this war, we have none."

"None yet," Sarus corrected. "But there are avenues we can explore. It occurs to me that, if the mind of a Fused is as immortal as a spren, can we not entrap them in fabrials as we do lesser spren? Perhaps Brightness Navani and her artifabrians could investigate."

Jasnah leaned back. "It's… not a bad idea," she acknowledged. "I'll discuss it with her."

"Wait," Eshonai said. "Fabrials have spren inside?"

"Yes," Sarus said. "I am no artifabrian, so I don't know anything about how it's done. But I know that a specific spren is trapped in a gemstone to make a fabrial function."

Eshonai hummed to an intrigued Rhythm. "Fascinating. It's similar to how we take on forms. Guide a spren into our gemheart to give us new abilities."

"Very much like that, I suppose," Sarus agreed.

"Have you… seen her?" Elhokar asked suddenly, looking at Jasnah. "Mother? Since you returned?"

Jasnah's expression was wooden. "No. I came directly to this meeting."

"She was… distraught, when Shallan brought word to us," Dalinar said. "She'll be overjoyed to see you."

"I'm sure." Jasnah's lips were a thin, pale line in her tanned face, a shade darker than average for an Alethi. "I'll seek her out when we're finished here."

"But on the topic," Sarus said, glancing at his own spren. "Archive—do you know anything about higher spren being entrapped in gems or fabrials? Has it ever been done?"

"I do not know whether it has ever been done," she said. "But I do not know what it would do."

It has, the Stormfather says. Although, generally, rather than being entrapped in a gemstone, a higher spren simply takes the shape of the fabrial in the Physical Realm. Technically, every Shardblade is a simple fabrial containing a higher spren.

Sarus blinked. "Ah. I… suppose that makes sense—"

"Soulcasters," Jasnah said. "They're spren as well, aren't they?"

Yes.

"Are they deadeyes?" she asked. "Like Shardblades? Were they also created during the Recreance?"

I do not know.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" she demanded.

The Stormfather was silent for a moment. The fabrials you call Soulcasters do predate the Recreance, he said finally. They predate my… becoming what I am. My memory of the time before is not always clear.

"Ah," Jasnah said. "Excellent. It would have been far too convenient for us to actually have someone who remembered critical information from antiquity. I don't suppose you know why the Radiants abandoned their oaths, either, do you?"

No. Does it matter? They broke their oaths.

"Of course it matters," Sarus said. "The Recreance was not a moment of weakness by a group of people tired of upholding their duty. Every Knight Radiant abandoned their oaths, all at once, on the same day. It was organized. Perhaps even planned. And we do not know why." He spread his hands. They shook slightly as he held them out, still weak from his encounter with Melkor. "We are now walking in the footsteps of the ancient Radiants," he said. "If we do not know why their path ended the way it did…"

"We may be doomed to repeat it," Jasnah said. "Or to make some other crippling, avoidable error." She sighed. "Tell me someone has found some sort of historical record in the Tower? Or at least that someone has been looking?"

"There are teams exploring the tower all the time," Dalinar said. "We've found nothing resembling a library just yet, but it is one of the things we're most hoping to locate."

"Well, we can do nothing for now but continue to search," Jasnah said. "I have little else to report. I'll discuss everything else I've missed individually with the rest of you."

"One more thing should be discussed before we part," Sarus said. "Kaladin—the rest of Bridge Four lost the Surgebinding abilities they had gained a few hours after you left."

"What?" Kaladin blinked. "They—oh, Storms. I hope that didn't cause any problems?"

"Fortunately, having an entire unit of Surgebinders was a new enough phenomenon that we hadn't started to rely upon it," Sarus said. "But I expect they've gained the abilities back now that you've returned. Would you be willing to begin training them in their use?"

"Of course." Kaladin frowned. "Moash didn't get Surgebinding, right? Do you think it's because of his Shardblade?"

"Perhaps," Sarus said. "Or perhaps it's because he is rather more in my orbit than yours, at this point." He tried not to feel bitter about the implication that everyone else in Bridge Four was still more loyal to Kaladin than to himself.

"But he hasn't gained your Surges either," Kaladin pointed out.

"The Elsecaller Surges are much more difficult to use," Sarus said. "I only started practicing with them recently. I would not be surprised to find that Elsecallers do not naturally produce 'squires' as Windrunners do."

"That bears out with my experience," Jasnah said. "I encountered mention of such squires in my research into the Knights Radiant, but I never empowered anyone around me in that way. Then again, Shallan was the only ward I took on for any length of time after forming my bond with Ivory, and she was already being scouted by a Cryptic."

"So it could be the Shardblade, or it could be that Elsecallers just don't have squires," Kaladin said. "We could ask Moash to give away the Blade and see if he gets Surgebinding?"

"I'll discuss it with him." Sarus looked around. "Is there anything else to discuss, or shall we adjourn for the moment?"

"That's enough for now," Dalinar said, standing up. "Welcome back, Lieutenant Kaladin. And—welcome home, Jasnah. It's wonderful to see you. Let's go greet your mother, shall we?"

Sarus didn't think he was imagining the wince on Jasnah's face as she stood and followed her uncle out of the room.

LithosMaitreya

Dec 23, 2024

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Threadmarks 83: General

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LithosMaitreya

Character Witness

Subscriber

Feb 17, 2025

#2,065

Thanks to Elran and BeaconHill for betareading, and to Phinnia for the commissioned icon.

Apologies for the long delay. I was sick for well over a month, and traveling for part of that time besides. But I'm back now, and the next chapter is already well on its way to being drafted.

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General

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Bavadin in particular has good reason to stop Rayse, given that if he gets free of Roshar, she's bound to be right at the top of his hit list.

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"Rlain, thank you for joining us." Chivi, the nimbleform member of the Council of Five, nodded at him as he stepped into the makeshift meeting room. Red strata lines flowed along the stone walls. Light streamed in through a window, cutting a line across the stone floor. On one side of that line sat the three remaining members of the Five, the seats of warform and workform having gone unfilled since the Everstorm. On the other stood Thude, humming to the Rhythm of Peace, and Eshonai, whose eyes were turned down towards the stone floor.

Rlain closed the door, humming to Peace in unison with Thude. "You asked for me." He caught Thude's eye, who nodded once, still humming. "What do you need?"

"I suspect you know what we are here to discuss," said Abronai to Consideration, the seriousness of his expression odd on the curved features of mateform. "We have an offer for you."

Rlain nodded slowly. "You wish to refill the empty roles among the Five."

"Davim was lost to stormform," Chivi says to Mourning. "And the council has decided that Eshonai can no longer represent warform. Not after all that has happened."

"She was manipulated," Rlain said quietly.

"Yes," said Zuln. He spoke to Peace, but carefully, as if he had to listen hard to find the Rhythm. Rlain remembered that feeling well. "But that does not change what happened."

"Even if the others were willing to let me remain on the Council, I wouldn't want to," Eshonai said to Pleading. "Rlain—don't defend me. Please."

Rlain sighed. "Has a new representative for workform been chosen?"

"Not yet," Chivi said. "Given the current situation, we decided we needed a new General as quickly as possible."

"And that's me," Rlain said.

"Yes," Abronai confirmed. "If you're willing."

Rlain looked over at Thude. "You could do this," he said to Pleading.

"Absolutely not," Thude said to Amusement. Traitor.

"Why are you hesitating?" Rlain turned to look at the corner from which the voice emerged. Patu'ua was half-merged with the wall, his glowing orange eyes focused on Rlain. "Do you not think yourself qualified?"

"It's not that," Rlain said to Tension, conscious of the others in the room watching their conversation. "I just… I wanted to help Eshonai. That's what I set out to do when I left the Kholin warcamp. I didn't mean to usurp her."

"You have helped her," Patu'ua said. "And now, the rest of your people ask for your help. Will you deny them?"

Rlain sighed. "When you put it that way, I suppose not." He turned to the three remaining councilors. "But I have other responsibilities I cannot ignore. I am Neshua Kadal, the tower's only Stoneward, and a member of Bridge Four. Those roles also require my attention."

"Eshonai and I can continue helping to organize patrols and drills for the warform soldiers," Thude said. "But the Five need someone to be in warform at the meetings and represent the soldiers when decisions are made. That's you."

"Just so," Chivi said. "Well, Rlain? We understand that you need to train your Surgebinding and work with Highprince Dalinar and his subordinates. But the Listeners require someone to represent warform. Who better than the man who resisted the temptations for stormform for weeks?"

"Very well," Rlain said. "I accept this role, councilors. I will be your General."

"Excellent," Chivi said to Joy. "Then welcome to the Five. We will reconvene tomorrow morning to choose a new representative of workform." She stood. "Thank you, Rlain. This is a weight off all our shoulders."

"You worry that this is a move fueled by bitterness." Zuln spoke slowly, still to the ponderous Rhythm of Consideration. "That we do this to punish Eshonai, that by doing this you are betraying a person you took such pains and suffered such grief to save. It is not, we do not, and you are not. We ask you to be General, not because we wish to make enmity between you and your predecessor, but because you are a great warrior, becoming greater by the day, who understands better than anyone the enemy we face."

Rlain met the dullform Councilor's gaze. "I understand," he said. "And it is in that spirit that I accept the appointment."

Zuln nodded. "Good. Then we shall speak again tomorrow."

Once they had parted from the rest of the Five, Rlain turned to Eshonai. "I did not want this," he said to Pleading. "You understand, don't you?"

She hummed to Amusement, with a few notes borrowed from Longing. "Of course I understand, Rlain," she said. "This is the right thing for our people. I know that. Your spren knows that. I think you know it too."

Rlain sighed. "I don't like it. It doesn't… feel like my place."

"There is no one better," Thude said.

That isn't the point, Rlain thought. But there was no purpose, anymore, in saying as much. "General or not," he said instead, "we have work to do. It's now my responsibility to enact our plans, which means making those plans."

Eshonai nodded. "We need to figure out how we're going to reach out to the former slaveform singers. And we need to send out whatever envoys we attempt to send as soon as possible."

"I want to consult with someone about our plans," Rlain said. "He'll have valuable insight on persuading people. Come—he should be at the Oathgate right now."

-x-x-x-

"Captain," Rlain called to Joy, raising a hand in greeting. Eshonai and Thude followed behind him as they approached the Oathgate platform.

Sarus was seated on a chair with his back to one of the Oathgate chamber's outer walls. His eyes were shut as he leaned into the cushions, but he raised a hand in reply. Rlain thought he saw a flash of a wince on Sarus' brow. "Greetings, my friend," he said in his deep, resonant voice, musical enough that Rlain caught himself trying to pick out a Rhythm underlying the words. "What brings you here?"

"We were hoping to discuss something with you."

Sarus finally opened his eyes, quickly taking in the three of them. "Very well. I know you two, of course, but—you must be Thude, yes?"

Thude nodded, humming to Curiosity. "Rlain has told me a lot about you," he said.

Sarus' lips twitched. "Not too much, I hope. I find people who come to know me too intimately often stop liking me so well." He turned his gray eyes back on Rlain. "What did you want to discuss?"

"We're trying to figure out how we can cut into Odium's support among the singers," Rlain said to Resolve. "You're the best person I know for figuring out how to convince people of things, even when they're… reluctant."

"Reluctant," Sarus repeated, amusement as clear in his words as if he had spoken to the Rhythm. "Not the word I would choose for a people faced with the prospect of allying themselves with their former slavers. But not inaccurate."

"Then you don't think it's possible?" Thude asked.

"I didn't say that." Sarus let out a breath, leaning back against his cushions. "But it will be difficult. You should not expect miracles."

"Every singer we draw away from Odium is a soul freed from him," Eshonai said to Resolve.

"And one body less for his Fused," Sarus said grimly. "I agree that it's important. But the risks cannot be overstated." He met Rlain's eyes. "There are several problems facing us. Three in particular come to mind."

Rlain clasped his hands behind his back in a pose he'd seen Alethi officers take while listening to one another during his time in the warcamps. "Explain them, please."

"First," Sarus said, "the populations we would find it easiest to sway are also the ones we will find it hardest to reach—small groups, isolated from the gathering armies Odium is forming with the help of his voidspren and Fused. But he has voidspren, Fused, and the perspective of a god with access to the Spiritual and Cognitive Realms to find and reach them. We do not. Finding those isolated singer populations—small groups of a few dozen at most, broken free from small settlements—will be nearly impossible for us. For him, it will be the work of a few months at most. He has already begun the process, according to Kaladin's reports."

"Is there a way around that problem?" Rlain asked.

Sarus shook his head. "Not that I can think of," he said. "If we had more Radiants, yes. An army of Windrunners or Skybreakers could serve as a scout corps, combing Roshar for groups of singers. A dedicated force of Elsecallers with enough training could use Transportation to search the Cognitive Realm. But we have half a dozen Radiants in total. With only ordinary humans and singers lacking a Nahel bond, I see no way we can compete with Odium in terms of his ability to access those isolated groups. So, we must assume he will gather the vast majority of singers to his banner, in staging areas across Roshar. Those areas, at least, will be easier for us to find.

"Which brings us to our second problem. We have no way of knowing how much we can trust Odium."

"He is our enemy," Eshonai said. "Surely we can't trust him at all?"

Sarus waved a hand dismissively. "I know you've been fighting the Alethi lately, but the Alethi are unusually barbaric," he said. "Particularly when fighting people they consider inferior, which by and large means anyone who isn't also Alethi. In the rest of the world, enemies tend to be at least a little more civilized. Peaceful envoys, for example, are allowed to come and go between enemy factions unmolested, which is a courtesy I know Highprince Sadeas never afforded your people."

"It used to be like that for us," Thude said to the Rhythm of Longing. "When families of Listeners fought. The wars were… small, looking back. And as important as they felt at the time, we never forgot that the enemies we were fighting were other Listeners. Other singers."

"And there you hit upon the problem," Sarus said. "Because we are not fighting other singers, or other humans, this time. We are fighting a god. Normally, it would be easiest and safest to disguise envoys like those we are sending to the other singers as diplomatic parties sent to negotiate with the enemy leadership. Even if we were fighting the Azish, they would not tolerate us explicitly attempting to poach their armies from under their noses. But they would tolerate diplomats, because that encourages reciprocity and allows for the possibility of a solution to the conflict that does not involve utter extermination. But our enemy may not feel the need for that reciprocity, and may not want a solution to the conflict that does not involve extermination. Even if we sent diplomats without any hidden aims of subverting the singers, we have no way of knowing that Odium will not simply have them put to the sword without a second thought.

"And that brings us to our third problem. We cannot afford to put anyone of great value—including any of our Radiants—at such uncertain risk. But the more important the former parshmen deem our envoys to be, the more they will feel we are taking them seriously, and the more likely they are to listen. Which is a difficult conundrum, but this one, at least, we can mitigate."

"How?" Rlain asked.

"Simply by sending Listeners, rather than humans." Sarus met his eyes. "The former parshmen have been exposed only to humans who think themselves inherently superior to anyone with marbled skin, and other former parshmen. By exposing them to Listeners—Listeners in strange, advanced forms, who otherwise look like them, and with millennia of rich oral history behind them—we show them that the world is not so simple. We demonstrate that there is another path, besides being slaves to humans or being slaves to a dark god. If they will find anything we can offer persuasive, it will be that. Ideally, we would send Listener Radiants. But we have too few of those to risk. So we will have to settle for more mundane Listener envoys."

"And that leaves us with the problems of where to send those envoys, and how to keep them safe on their missions," Rlain said.

"Just so," Sarus said. "At a guess, I do not think Odium will tolerate open attempts to subvert his armies. Our envoys will not be allowed to operate openly in his territory with impunity. I do not know this, but I strongly suspect it. To do otherwise would not make sense for a mortal mind, and while Odium is not mortal, he is also not quite incomprehensible. So, we will need our agents to be less ambassadors, and more spies. Saboteurs. And it will be an exceedingly dangerous assignment, because the same qualities that make Odium's forces more capable than ours at finding those isolated singer populations also make them more capable of finding our agents. But," he added, "it is not impossible to slip past. Kaladin managed it, despite being human. It may, however, be impossible for a singer in a form other than dullform to do so."

"So, the same approach we took with our spies in the Alethi warcamps," Rlain said. "Like me."

"Only with an enemy far more dangerous and capable than the infighting Alethi could ever be, yes," Sarus said. "And it will be useful to ensure that our agents are able to take new forms quickly. I don't know if that is a skill that can be trained—if some Listeners find it easier to take new forms in a highstorm—but if it is, that will be a quality you will want to select for in your agents."

"It is," Rlain said. "Though the difference between those with a great deal of experience taking new forms and those with less experience is not large."

Sarus nodded. "Another thing to consider is that we may need to extract our agents, and any singers they are able to recruit, very quickly. You should speak with Brightness Navani about acquiring a few spanreeds. I doubt her artifabrians can produce enough to equip every agent you will want to deploy, but sending a few and establishing dedicated rendezvous schedules between agents operating in the same regions will significantly decrease the risk."

"What if the enemy acquires our spanreeds?" Thude asks. "Couldn't they use that to bait us into a trap?"

"That's why we'll need ways to verify our agents' identities," Sarus said. "Ciphers, codes, and the like. I might suggest—"

There was a sudden burst of sound from behind them. Rlain turned to look towards the market on the other side of the Oathgate platform, where a commotion seemed to have started up. Humans were running about in a sudden frenzy of activity, men in uniform shouting to one another with weapons in their hands.

"What's going on?" Eshonai asked.

"I don't know," Rlain said.

"Go and investigate," Sarus said. "King Taravangian's delegation should be here in just a few minutes, and I'd prefer to limit the contact they have with those of us who are aware of his connection to the Assassin in White as much as possible. We can discuss ways of verifying identity over spanreed later."

Rlain nodded at him. "Thank you," he said to Praise. "Your advice will be invaluable. I've been named the Listeners' General, so it falls to me to make these plans."

Sarus nodded. "A worthy appointment," he said, shooting a quick, almost imperceptible glance in Eshonai's direction. "Let me know if I can help any further."

"I will, Captain." Rlain saluted like an Alethi soldier, then turned and led his fellow Listeners towards the market.

LithosMaitreya

Feb 17, 2025

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Threadmarks 84: King of Jah Keved New

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LithosMaitreya

Character Witness

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Mar 3, 2025

#2,076

Thanks to Elran and BeaconHill for betareading, and to Phinnia for the commissioned icon.

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King of Jah Keved

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The new hybrid shard on Scadrial—what is he calling himself, Harmony?—might also have an enlightened self-interest in helping you, given Rayse's history coming after both of the other Shards who paired up rather than going our separate ways as we agreed. Then again, since that Vessel isn't one of the people you've spent ten thousand years antagonizing, you can probably talk to him yourself.

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Sarus watched Rlain lead the other two Listeners away. Their spren followed—Patu'ua as a tiny ripple in the rock at their heels, the mistspren as an orb of pale light drifting on the wind. From what Sarus had heard, the mistspren had not yet spoken in any verbal language, communicating only through pulses in the singers' Rhythms. As such, even Eshonai still did not know its name, if it could even be said to have one.

"Many of the agents they send will die," Archive said quietly from his shoulder.

Sarus nodded, watching as Rlain, Eshonai, and Thude were swallowed up by the commotion in the marketplace. "Undoubtedly," he said. "But we are fighting a god. I may not remember, exactly, what my history with Melkor was, but I feel the shape of it at times. If the better part of our coalition remains alive and free by the end of this, I will count it a victory."

"What is the shape you feel?" Archive asked. "You have said little on what you know of Melkor, or of Curumo. Whatever connection between you is, we must unravel it."

Sarus hesitated. On the one hand, he agreed. The enemy was a dread creature who only appeared in whispers in the oldest myths—all that was known of mankind's history with Odium was that he had been held off through the Desolations, but not how. Not what the Heralds' role in that process had been, nor where those Heralds were now. Any intelligence to be found in his hazy memories of his previous life—if that was what he was experiencing, rather than something else entirely—was invaluable.

Except…

"Must we?" he asked softly.

Except that for every flash of narrative, of detail, that he could find in those misty visions, there were dozens of rushes of emotion. And most of them were far from pleasant.

Shame. Envy. Bitterness. Spite.

Whatever he had been, in that previous life, he did not think he had changed much.

Archive shot him a look. "Your hesitation is," she said. "Why?"

His expression twisted. It was a small, subtle thing—not because he was hiding it, but because he wasn't exaggerating it. He knew she saw it, nonetheless. "You remember our… argument, a couple of weeks ago?"

"Of course."

"Whatever life I lived before this one, it was still me living it. But I did not have an Archive beside me, then."

She frowned, briefly. Then he saw the understanding dawn in her black eyes. "Ah."

"I don't think it was a happy life I lived. We have our disagreements, Archive, but in solitude I…" He trailed off, unable or unwilling to find the word.

"I understand," she murmured. "I will not demand answers. But you know as well as I that turning away from an ugly truth does not make it a lie."

"I know. And I do intend to… interrogate those memories in more depth. At some point. But it's not as simple as them returning when I call them up. I've tried, and for my trouble I found only unpleasant feelings with little context to explain them. I need more clues. More encounters with Melkor, perhaps, or something else to knock those memories loose. Otherwise I'm just jogging in place with a bridge on my back."

She nodded. "Very well. But we should try to find ways to stimulate your memories without directly confronting Odium. It is to prepare for such confrontations that we seek those memories in the first place."

"True enough."

As they lapsed into companionable silence, Sarus returned to the Surgebinding practice he'd been engaged in before Rlain had approached. Now that he had learned to see into Shadesmar, he was starting to experiment with doing so more subtly, and being more conservative with his Investiture. The 'window' into the Cognitive Realm which his abilities opened seemed to be visible only to himself and Archive, which certainly went a long way to help with subtlety. But there were still ways to give the game away, if he was careless, and if someone watching him knew what to look for in an inexperienced Surgebinder. Which, unfortunately, the Fused certainly would, given they had fought Radiants for centuries.

Carefully, holding his body perfectly still, Sarus reached out with his mind and his Investiture. He shaped the energy into a tightly condensed charge, and then dropped it into the air just an inch from his left eye. The air rippled, and a window into Shadesmar opened—barely two inches across, almost completely encompassing the vision of his left eye, while his right retained an unobstructed view of the Physical Realm. There was an instant of vertigo, as one eye saw the world around him while the other saw another Realm entirely. He ruthlessly suppressed the sensation, keeping his expression perfectly composed. Placid.

"Well done," Archive said. "If I could not feel the Surge being used, I would have no idea."

He glanced at her, though he could see her only through his right eye—the left was still dominated by the luminous, crystalline spire of Urithiru, overlooking the sea of dark beads far below. "My face doesn't give it away?" he asked. "No tells, no wooden expression?"

"Not that I can see," Archive said. "But my skills in reading such things are not, at least in comparison to your own."

"Hm. We should speak to someone who knows what to look for, at some point. Moash, perhaps."

Before Archive could reply, the stone structure behind Sarus began to scrape as it rotated. The Vedenar Oathgate was activating.

He banished the window into Shadesmar and reached out towards Archive. Without a word, she flowed into his hand, solidifying into his staff once more. Leaning against her, he stood, stepped away from his chair, and turned to face the archway in the Oathgate platform.

Slowly, the inner archway rotated into alignment. There were several people inside the Oathgate, all of them entirely unfamiliar to Sarus. A woman pulled her Shardblade free of the control socket before banishing it. It faded into a spren, like a spiderweb of cracks hanging in the air beside her shoulder, streaming pale smoke.

Can you see the spren? Sarus asked Archive silently.

No.

Understood. Sarus made a mental note not to look directly in the spren's direction. Aloud, he cleared his throat. "King Taravangian," he said, turning his attention to the old man at the head of the group. He wore orange robes over a brown tunic and trousers. Sarus noted immediately their fine make, but simple design. He wore no jewelry, save for the crown on his head—not quite so fine as the one Elhokar wore to formal occasions, but visibly far older. In a monarch's crown, that was a good thing. "Welcome to Urithiru. I am Sarus, Knight Radiant of the Order of Elsecallers, and it is my honor to be your escort and guide through the tower."

Taravangian smiled, approaching. He moved slowly and carefully, in that way the elderly often did—not quite limping, but clearly no longer perfectly fit. His eyes were kindly, and his face was lined with care.

"The welcome is appreciated," he said. He beckoned the Radiant, who stepped forward, watching Sarus with suspicious, beady eyes. "This is Malata," he said. "She is a Dustbringer. It is thanks to her that we know as much as we do."

"A pleasure," Sarus said, nodding at Malata and not looking at her spren.

He kept his face controlled. But inside, he was startled. He looked closely, as he turned back to Taravangian, trying to find any hint of the scheming intellect he had assumed he would encounter, in the man who had sent Szeth on a rampage across Roshar. But there was nothing. No sharp edges in the eyes, no secretive quirk to the smile. Only a vague, distant guilt in the furrows on the man's brow.

"Please follow me, Your Majesty," Sarus said, gesturing down the thoroughfare towards the tower's great doors. "Highprince Dalinar and King Elhokar are expecting you. Your retinue is welcome to accompany you, of course."

"Thank you." Taravangian fell into step just half a pace behind Sarus, while the rest of the visiting group followed after. "It's an incredible building," the man observed, craning his neck as he looked up at the vastness of Urithiru. "Just how large is it?"

"Each of the ten tiers is comprised of eighteen floors," Sarus said. "Exploration is still ongoing in some parts of the tower, particularly in the second and third tiers. But the path we will be taking is well-secured."

"Secured from what?" Malata asked.

Sarus looks back at her. "Foes within and without," he said. "We are a coalition of former enemies. I was once a slave in the Alethi warcamps, and now I sit at a war table giving council to princes and kings. The very Parshendi we were fighting now live in this tower with us. There are tensions. And although we are high enough that the Everstorm does not damage us here, we are constantly aware of it. Our scouts report strange powers in the hands of our enemies, and we are watchful for infiltrators. Our Lightweavers have already made it abundantly clear that Surgebinders can make for incredibly dangerous saboteurs—doubly so when we do not even know the limits of the enemies' abilities." He met Taravangian's eyes. "I am sure that Highprince Dalinar will be happy to discuss the details of our security measures with you, but perhaps we should cement our alliance before that point, yes?"

"Of course," said Taravangian with an astonishingly warm smile. Truly, it was bizarre. If Sarus didn't know better, if he didn't have and trust Szeth's account, he could never have imagined that this was the man who had sent the Assassin in White to kill dozens of lords and rulers across Roshar. It was more than just being a skilled liar—Sarus knew a skilled liar when he saw one, as he did every time he passed a mirror. Taravangian was a skilled liar—that hint of guilt on his shoulders suggested that, yes, he was the man who had sent Szeth, and that the crime did not sit lightly on him.

But Sarus was good at reading people. He was better, in fact, than anyone he had ever known, Tailiah included. And the man in front of him did not seem capable of using Szeth as he had. Both because he didn't seem to have the steel in his spine that would be needed, and because he didn't seem smart enough to exploit the political ramifications of all those assassinations.

They came to one of the tower's lifts, and began to ascend. As the lift rose, Taravangian turned to face him fully. "You said you were a slave in the Alethi warcamp. It must be strange, then, to have your circumstances change so quickly, and so radically."

"It is," Sarus agreed. "But change seems to be catching, as it were, Your Majesty. The Everstorm, the Desolation—even before the past months, the appearance of the Parshendi was shaking Alethkar to its foundations, though the rest of Roshar likely saw little of it."

"Even as far as Kharbranth, we heard about some of the changes in Alethkar." Taravangian said. "There have been rumors—though most have been dismissed as either fantasy or propaganda." His expression shifted—subtly, but Sarus caught it. "It's generally known that the Assassin in White was defeated by the Alethi in an attempt on Highprince Dalinar's life. But some say that his Shardblade was… shattered."

This man was the mastermind behind Szeth's attacks? His face didn't betray him, but it scarcely needed to! The maneuvering of the conversation was so clumsy Sarus thought even Dalinar might have noticed it!

There was no point lying here. Anyone in Urithiru could tell them about Sarus' part in that event. "It's true," he said simply. "I was part of the team guarding the Highprince and His Majesty that night. We attempted to stop the Assassin. His Blade struck me, and broke. I survived. We still have no conclusive explanation how or why."

Taravangian's eyes went wide as he explained, and he studied Sarus with new interest. "Truly? It's… difficult to believe."

"I have difficulty believing it myself," Sarus said. It wasn't even a lie. "But I have my life, and I've seen the shards. It beggars belief, but it's true nonetheless."

"Incredible," Taravangian said. "What was it like? Did you… experience anything?"

"Intense pain," Sarus said. "And a vision, but neither I nor any ardent I've spoken to has been able to identify any part of that vision. I certainly didn't hear the Almighty Himself speaking to me, as I believe some of the rumors claim." No, that honor is reserved for Dalinar, apparently.

"What did you see?" Taravangian asked eagerly. "Perhaps my ardents will be able to offer insights the Alethi have not considered."

Sarus told him, honestly, about the girl and the man with pointed ears (Elf, some forgotten memory whispered) and the fleet of silver ships hanging in the sky. He did not mention the name the girl had tried to speak, because that was still something he was keeping to his closest confidants. They would not find it by asking around.

The lift reached the corridor outside the Gallery of Maps while he was explaining. He finished the narrative as he led them down the hall. "A few of the ardents I've spoken to suspect that it was the Tranquiline Halls I was seeing," he said. "But none have been able to identify the woman or the man."

"I'll speak with my own ardents," Taravangian said. "It is fascinating, regardless of what we can or can't find out. There is so much in Roshar that we still do not understand. You have brushed up against those secrets, I suspect."

That was an… intriguing way of looking at it. "Many of those old secrets are being uncovered now," Sarus said. "With the coming of the Desolation, the return of the Radiants, and the rediscovery of Urithiru. Perhaps the secrets of my vision will follow suit. Regardless," they stopped at the door and he pushed it open with the head of his staff, "we have arrived."

He led them inside. Dalinar and Elhokar were already there, goblets of pale orange wine in their hand as they leaned over a map of Alethkar. Design slowly rotated on one wall of the room, hidden in the shadows. The two men looked up as Sarus entered.

"Ah," Dalinar said, straightening. "Good. Welcome to Urithiru, King Taravangian. Captain, thank you for escorting them."

Sarus nodded wordlessly as Taravangian stepped forward. "Highprince Dalinar," he said. "I must say, I was pleasantly surprised to receive your message. Alethkar and Jah Keved are sibling nations, too often at each other's throats."

"Nothing like a Desolation to unite men, I suppose," Dalinar said. Sarus could see the tension in his shoulders, all the ways he carried his wariness with him, but so far he was conducting himself admirably. At least for him.

Dalinar was, perhaps, the single worst possible person to fill this role. The goal was simple—win Taravangian's trust, secure an alliance against Odium, and hopefully use the access they won through that alliance to uncover whatever secrets Taravangian was hiding. But Dalinar was simply not that skilled a liar. Sarus had been coaching him for days, but the sort of education he would need for this sort of diplomatic operation would have taken years before Sarus was truly confident.

Elhokar was here, of course, and he was a little better at this sort of thing. Not excellent, of course—he could be excitable and impulsive, as Kaladin's brief stint in prison had demonstrated—but he was at least already in the habit of keeping his true feelings hidden. But all of them knew Taravangian would expect to be negotiating with the Blackthorn, not the puppet sitting on Alethkar's throne. (Not that Sarus had put it so bluntly to either Elhokar or Dalinar's faces.)

Sarus took a seat and let himself fade into the background as Taravangian introduced his retinue. Malata was first, but to the lighteyes he also introduced some of the others—Sarus took particular note of a scribe named Adrotagia, for whom the man seemed to have a particular fondness. Then the conversation turned towards alliance.

Taravangian was interested in using the Oathgates for trade. Dalinar was interested in using Vedenar as a mustering ground for a military coalition against Odium. It was clear that a pact would benefit both parties… if only Taravangian hadn't sent an assassin after Dalinar, hadn't killed dozens of Dalinar's peers and everyone ahead of him in line for the Veden throne.

Still, Dalinar seemed to be relaxing. Seemed almost to be forgetting about that tension between them. Which was probably a good thing, so long as he didn't get careless.

The door burst open. Murk snapped a salute, hair matted down with sweat, his eyes wide and wild as they darted from Sarus, to Dalinar, to Elhokar. "Sir—sirs," he says. "Come quickly. Brightness Shallan just fought and drove off some sort of… evil spren."

"Where?" Sarus demanded, standing up and calling Archive back into his hand.

"The lower levels," Murk said, panting. "Down near the prison."

"Damnation," Dalinar said. "Sarus, go and secure Szeth and Graves. Make sure whatever is happening down there isn't a distraction to break them out."

"A distraction?" Taravangian asked slowly.

Dalinar's expression froze as he realized what he had said. He met Sarus' eyes, begging for some clever way out of this, but it was already too late.

"He did talk!" Malata exclaimed, and suddenly there was a Shardblade in her hands as the spren rushed to her.

The room exploded into commotion. Malata shoved herself between Taravangian and Dalinar. Dalinar leapt away from the table, looking furious with himself. Elhokar reared back, sucking in Stormlight, though Sarus doubted he had any idea what he was going to do with it. The rest of Taravangian's retinue had all frozen, closing ranks around their king, looking terrified.

Sarus shifted his grip on Archive. Obligingly, she transformed in his hand, sharpening from a staff to a longspear.

"I knew it," Malata said furiously, brandishing her Shardblade. Sarus limped forward, putting himself between her and Dalinar, but she didn't attack. She just glared at all of them. "I storming knew it. What did I tell you? You can't trust Radiants! You—"

"Enough, Malata," Taravangian said quietly. Sarus glanced his way and saw that he looked like he had aged years. That hint of guilt he'd been carrying seemed to have exploded in weight, until he was positively bent beneath it. "Enough."

"To be fair," Sarus said quietly. "The only words we were able to get out of Szeth at the beginning were his name. And Graves was the alias the assassin organizing attempts on King Elhokar's life was using—I doubt it's his real name. Your reaction, Malata, is entirely unwarranted."

She paled, but Taravangian shook his head. "You do know, though," he said. "Don't you?"

"We do," Sarus said. "It was difficult to get Szeth to speak, but not impossible. The thing about using broken men as agents, Your Majesty, is that they can often be broken again."

Taravangian nodded. "I don't know as much as I would like about Szeth-son-son-Vallano's story," he said. "But that doesn't especially surprise me." He looked sadly between Sarus and Dalinar. "So, what is this? A trap? Was all of this a pretext to capture me?"

"Of course not," Sarus said. "Why would we have waited so long? We'd simply have surrounded you as soon as you left the Oathgate. No, Your Majesty—we do need an alliance against Odium. We do not need to trust you to need your help."

"And yet you would trust us to help you against the Desolation?" Taravangian asked.

"Of course," Sarus said. "Odium is the common enemy of all men, isn't he? As the highprince said—nothing like a Desolation to unite men."

Taravangian nodded slowly, but Sarus saw the twist in his expression, too subtle for anyone else in the room to catch.

"This may even be a good thing," Sarus said smoothly. "There are no pretexts or lies between us now. Simply this truth. There may be no trust between our peoples, Your Majesty, but everything you discussed with Highprince Dalinar still holds true. The Oathgates can still be used for trade. Jah Keved will still be essential in any campaign against the enemy. We may be starting from a place of distrust, but at least we are starting from honesty. From that foundation, however slowly, perhaps trust can be built."

Taravangian sighed. "Perhaps. At any rate, if you don't mean to imprison us, perhaps it would be best if we departed for now. We can communicate further details by spanreed, once heads have cooled."

"Agreed," said Dalinar stiffly. "Murk, please escort King Taravangian and his servants back to the Oathgate, and see to it they're provided enough Stormlight for the return trip."

"Uh… yes sir," Murk said.

As they left, Dalinar fell into a chair and brought up a hand to rub at his temples. "Damnation," he said. "One conversation. I couldn't even keep the secret for one conversation."

"We knew this was not one of your strengths, Brightlord," Sarus said.

"That doesn't excuse this."

"Perhaps it does not need to be excused. This was not a total loss."

Elhokar and Dalinar both looked up at him. "What?" Dalinar asked. "What do you mean?"

"Did you hear what Malata said? 'You can't trust Radiants.' What an odd thing for a Knight Radiant to say, don't you agree?"

"Yes," Elhokar said slowly. "But what does it mean?"

"Perhaps nothing," Sarus said. "Her spren is likely bitter about the Recreance, and she's inherited that bitterness. Perhaps that's all it is. But that bitter spren must have had a reason to choose a Radiant anyway. Why?"

"Because there's a Desolation," Dalinar said, gesturing vaguely. "Odium must be fought. This spren likely understands that."

"Maybe. But I don't think so." Sarus thought of that guilty twist on Taravangian's lips when Sarus had said they trusted him to fight Odium. "I think Malata's outburst just gave us a piece of the puzzle we might have missed for weeks otherwise."

"That being?"

"We cannot trust Taravangian."

"We knew that," Dalinar said. "Of course we can't trust him."

"No," Elhokar said softly. "No, you mean we can't even trust him to fight Odium."

"Precisely." Sarus smiled grimly. "I do not think Taravangian has any intention of fighting Odium. I think he intends to betray Roshar to him."

LithosMaitreya

Mar 3, 2025

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LithosMaitreya

Character Witness

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Mar 17, 2025

#2,091

Thanks to Elran and BeaconHill for betareading, and to Phinnia for the commissioned icon.

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Assignments

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Consider it your homework: talk to someone who knows what you are without making them want to strangle you.

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Jasnah sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Not even one conversation. Really, Uncle?"

Dalinar, who had already been grimacing, flushed. "I know."

"Still, as Sarus said, it was not a total loss," Jasnah acknowledged. She nodded at the other Elsecaller, who nodded back. Elhokar had the feeling that there was a tension between his sister and Sarus, but he couldn't for the life of him guess at what that tension was. He didn't think it was attraction. For one thing, he didn't think Jasnah had ever been attracted to anyone, at least to a degree he'd been able to notice. For another, well, she was more than ten years Sarus' senior. That seemed a rather large gap for such things. So he assumed, anyway.

"I could be mistaken," Sarus allowed. "It is possible that Malata's spren is simply bitter in general, and that Malata has inherited that bitterness. It is possible that what I saw in Taravangian's face was something else, or a trick of the light. But I am fairly confident. And there is something else I noticed."

"That being?" Dalinar asked.

"Taravangian is stupid," Sarus said. "Or—not stupid, perhaps, but not brilliant, either. The political ramifications of every assassination Szeth made were enormous. The risks he took clearing his path to the Veden throne were not insignificant. And based on how he conducted himself, I do not think he is the sort to blindly take those sorts of risks without some form of assurance."

"You think he's already in contact with Odium," Kaladin said. "That Odium is, what, feeding him information?"

"I think he has some source of intelligence that we haven't identified," Sarus said. "I do not think that source is Odium. The timeline doesn't fit. Szeth's killing spree started several months before the Everstorm came. We know Odium was somewhat active in Shadesmar at that time, but I don't think he was risking exposure in the Physical Realm."

"We don't know that," Eshonai said quietly. "Venli discovered stormform somehow. It's possible Odium gave her the secret, sent a stormspren to her deliberately."

"Perhaps," Sarus acknowledged. "But giving Venli a single piece of information could very easily be done without risking his own exposure—and even if she did turn on him and the Listeners found out about his presence and goals, there would be no way for that information to easily spread to the rest of Roshar. The only humans the Listeners had regular contact with were the Alethi, and we weren't exactly on speaking terms. Providing a constant stream of actionable intelligence to a human king is another matter entirely. It would be an immense risk, and I do not think Taravangian is a man on whom Odium would risk so much."

"What would the risk be, exactly?" Elhokar asked, surprising himself. He didn't often speak up in these meetings. But it was different when Sarus was explaining his reasoning. He felt like a student in one of his tutors' lectures again, encouraged to ask for clarification when he didn't understand something. "Even if Taravangian decided to betray Odium, what would that do?"

"In theory, word of Odium's actions and goals could reach us in the Shattered Plains," Sarus said. "Particularly if Taravangian knew about the Everstorm. The War of Reckoning had to be very carefully orchestrated—the Listeners had to discover stormform at precisely the time when they were desperate enough to take such an immense risk, and that meant that the Alethi had to be unwilling to parley with them as a matter of policy. I imagine Highprince Dalinar's offer to negotiate very nearly threw Odium's plans entirely off-course."

"It did," Eshonai confirmed. "I tried to convince everyone to wait until I'd spoken with him before we tried stormform. I think I almost managed it. And if it had been anyone but me who took stormform first, I probably would have used that parley to warn Dalinar about what was happening."

"Which tells us a few things," Sarus said. "First, that Odium's foresight is not perfect. I can attest to that myself, based on what I saw when I held back the Everstorm for those few minutes during the evacuation of Narak."

"You saw him using his foresight?" Renarin asked. Elhokar had almost forgotten he was there. It was so odd to see his awkward, bespectacled cousin sitting in a chair, surrounded by Alethkar's most influential people, while Adolin was nowhere in sight.

Sarus, uncharacteristically, hesitated. "I've not… shared much of this with anyone but Archive," he said quietly. "And I'll not share all of it now. But suffice to say, he attempted to convince me to join him. One of the ways he did that was to show me visions of Roshar, gleaned through his foresight, as it would be if I did not exist. He meant to stoke my ambition, to show me that I had achieved so little with my life that my presence or absence made no difference."

"A lie," Kaladin said.

"Not as much of one as you would think," Sarus said quietly. "But, yes, a lie. I realized that almost the instant I woke up in the hospital. And from the details of what he showed me, and what he said, I gathered some limitations of his foresight. Specifically, there are certain things which, in his own words, he must 'manually factor in'. Things his foresight does not warn him about, unless he is already aware of them. What exactly those things are is not yet clear, but the mere fact that such limitations exist, and that he is aware of them, means that he understands that there are risks to his plans, even with all his power and knowledge. And if word reached the Alethi of his plans in advance of the Everstorm, before the Listeners took stormform, it was possible that we would have sued for peace rather than allow the Voidbringers to return."

"And that would have left him trapped in Shadesmar," Dalinar said.

"Precisely. I am confident he had contingency plans in case that happened, but it was certainly not the desired outcome. More to the point—Szeth's only assassination attempt in the warcamps failed. The only reason Odium would have taken such a risk with Taravangian would be if Taravangian offered him something truly essential to his plans. Clearly, as the Everstorm has come despite Szeth's defeat, that was not the case."

"Unless Taravangian was part of a more long-term plan," Jasnah pointed out. "Something that has not yet come to fruition."

"It is possible," Sarus allowed. "But it would have to be a vitally important plan for Odium to risk his return to Roshar. The presence of the Everstorm, according to the Stormfather, essentially means this Desolation will never end. Unless we find a way to defeat him, we have already lost. I find it difficult to imagine what possible plan Odium could still have that would be worth jeopardizing the chance of reaching this state of affairs."

"While I do not consider him a god, he does exist and operate on a level above those of humans and singers like us," Jasnah said. "We can't presume to know exactly how his mind works, or what his priorities and goals are."

"This is true," Sarus admitted. "I still think it more likely that Taravangian has some other source, and that his betrayal of Roshar is not a treaty whose terms he has already settled with Odium. But I could be wrong."

Jasnah nodded. "I agree."

"But you were just disagreeing with him?" Kaladin asked blankly.

Since when has that ever mattered, with Jasnah? Elhokar thought.

"I think it's important for us to remember that these are assumptions and best-guesses we're making," Jasnah said. "We need to be aware of that fact as we make our plans. But we also do need to make plans—the risk of getting something wrong does not outweigh the certainty of our defeat if we do nothing."

Sarus nodded. "The point is well made," he said. "Regardless of whether Taravangian's source is Odium or not, it is a relatively safe assumption, I think, that he does have one. That means we need to uncover it, and either exploit it for ourselves or remove it from the board."

Dalinar nodded. "Sensible. Another priority, then. I've also had a breakthrough regarding my negotiations with the other monarchs. I can't win them over via spanreed, but the Stormfather can bring other people into my highstorm visions with me. I can ask him to bring them into those visions, and speak to them face-to-face there."

"Hopefully that goes better than your conversation with Taravangian," Jasnah said dryly.

"It will," Dalinar said firmly. "Taravangian was different. I knew the truth about him, and was trying to hide it. That sort of deception isn't something I'm good at. I never have been. But speaking to people directly and honestly? That, I can do."

Sarus nodded. "I agree," he said, surprising Elhokar. "We will leave that to you, then."

Dalinar nodded. "But we've stayed hidden away in this tower for too long already," he said. "It's time to start sending our Radiants out to win this war. Given what we suspect of Taravangian, we should probably send a team to Vedenar—or to Kharbranth, depending on where Taravangian holds court now."

"An infiltrator," Sarus said. "Brightness Shallan? Your Lightweaving would make you ideal for that role, but it would be dangerous. Are you willing?"

Shallan smiled hesitantly. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the expression shifted into something more confident as she sat up straighter. "Of course."

"I'm a Lightweaver too," Elhokar said. "Not as experienced—I haven't even tried Lightweaving with Design yet—but I can… try to learn?"

"You serve our cause better by wearing your own face, Your Majesty," Sarus said. "We need to open the Kholinar Oathgate. A coalition of Roshar's leaders is all well and good, but you are Alethkar's leader, and we must see to your people. It will be easier if you are with that team. The people of Kholinar, including your wife, will likely trust you far more easily than anyone else we could send."

"Without the Oathgate, we'll need to travel overland," Kaladin said. "Unless you've figured out how you brought us to the Shattered Plains in time for the battle, Sarus?"

"I have not, unfortunately."

"Then I'm our best bet to get there quickly," Kaladin said. "I can fly the king to Kholinar, along with whoever else we send. It won't be a short flight, and it's east of here so we won't be able to ride a single highstorm, but if we carry enough Stormlight with us we should be able to make it."

"Odium's forces are besieging Kholinar, aren't they?" Rlain asked.

"The ones I met were headed in that direction," Kaladin said. "They'll be there by now. I don't know for sure if a siege is what they were planning…"

"But it seems very likely," Dalinar finished for him.

"Then we should send a Listener with you," Rlain said. "We won't have another opportunity to reach so many of Odium's singers all at once again, and this way our agent will have two Radiants to protect them."

"Three," Eshonai said. "I'll go."

Rlain blinked. "Eshonai—"

"I'm not doing anything useful here," Eshonai said. Singer expressions were always subtle, if they were there at all—Elhokar had heard that they conveyed emotion through the rhythms that lent their words a singsong quality, rather than in their faces—but she seemed rueful. "I can help you find volunteers to send out to speak to the other singers, but that's about it, and most of them are less likely to listen to me than they are to almost anyone else you could ask. But this, I can do. They'll need as many fighters as they can get, as many Radiants as they can get. And like Sarus said," she nodded in the man's direction, "a Listener Neshua Kadal will be the best possible person to get through to them. This is a Radiant operation, so it's the perfect chance to put that theory to the test."

Rlain grimaced. "I don't like sending you out alone."

"She won't be alone," Kaladin said quietly. "I'll look after her, Rlain. I promise."

Rlain met his eyes, hesitated for only a moment, then nodded. "Very well, Kaladin. Thank you."

"I, unfortunately, am still recovering from my… injury," Sarus said. "So I cannot join you this time, Kaladin. Instead, I will see if I can offer my services to Brightness Navani and her artifabrians."

"I don't think I'd be much help in Kholinar or Jah Keved, either," Renarin said quietly. "But I can help out here. Do what I can."

Which is what, exactly? Elhokar thought uncharitably. He was instantly ashamed of the thought, but he put it out of his mind. On the table, Design seemed to twitch slightly in her slow rotation.

"I've been named the Listeners' general," Rlain said. "So I can't leave the tower for the moment—not until things are more stable."

"And I intend to see what I can glean from the archives Shallan uncovered when she banished the Unmade," Jasnah said. "The books may be too fragile to handle, but there may be a way around that."

"Very well," Dalinar said, standing. "Then we all have our assignments." He looked around at each Radiant in term. Elhokar tried to hold his gaze—but found himself looking away almost immediately. "Elhokar, Kaladin, Eshonai, you should all make ready to depart in two days—we'll use the highstorm tomorrow to gather enough Stormlight for your flight. Shallan—"

"I can leave immediately," Shallan offered.

"No, you should go undercover with our first group of merchants who visit Vedenar by Oathgate," Dalinar said. "I haven't yet finalized with Taravangian when that'll be, but we're communicating by spanreed. I expect it'll be within a week."

"He'll expect spies there," Shallan pointed out.

"True, but he'll know we've sent an infiltrator if you take the Oathgate on your own before any treaty is formalized," Sarus said. "Besides, waiting a few days will give me time to interrogate Graves again. Now that we have more to work with, I want to see what I can get out of him. Anything I can get from him is something you don't have to find. I'll speak with him tomorrow."

Shallan nodded at him. "All right. Let me know what you find out."

"I will."

"Anything else?" Dalinar asked, looking around the room. When no one offered anything, he nodded. "Very well. Radiants, dismissed."

LithosMaitreya

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Threadmarks 86: The Parting of the Winds New

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LithosMaitreya

Character Witness

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Mar 31, 2025

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Thanks to Elran and BeaconHill for betareading, and to Phinnia for the commissioned icon.

-x-x-x-

The Parting of the Winds

-x-x-x-

Ceph… by now, you're probably wondering why I'm taking this tone. Why I'm acting as though I'm not one of the people you've done your level best to alienate. Honestly, I'm not completely sure either.

-x-x-x-

"Hello again," Sarus said as the cell door closed behind him.

Graves halted his push-ups and sat back against the side of his cot, pale green eyes watching Sarus. He said nothing.

"I met your patron yesterday," Sarus said, tone idle, as if their discussion was of no consequence.

Graves twitched. "You don't know who—"

"King Taravangian," Sarus said flatly.

Graves fell silent. In his shocked, horrified expression, Sarus read the truth. He grinned.

"I wasn't certain, you know?" he told the prisoner. "There are parts of this picture that do not make sense. Why would Taravangian send Szeth after Dalinar, and send you after Elhokar with the intention of replacing him with Dalinar? My current best guess is that the two plans are contingencies for one another, but there are holes in that theory. Perhaps you can help me fill them in?"

"I'll tell you nothing," Graves growled, eyes flashing with hate.

"How is that going for you, so far?"

Graves shook with impotent rage, but gave no other response.

"The first question I have," Sarus said, "is not about Taravangian at all. It's about you. I know why Szeth obeyed him—his Shin traditions, his Oathstone, commanded his loyalty. I don't find that reason compelling, personally, but he clearly did. I haven't yet found a similar reason for you."

Graves didn't answer.

"I suspect he has some sort of leverage," Sarus said. "Hostages, perhaps? Well, we Knights Radiant are led by the Blackthorn, and we know Taravangian is our enemy. Just like Brightlord Tanalan, during the rebellion of the Rift ten years ago. Perhaps we shall do to Kharbranth and Vedenar what was done to Rathalas?" Sarus scanned Graves' face. "No. Clearly that thought holds no particular dread for you."

"You can't know that," Graves hissed. "I've played cards hundreds of times, and won more often than I lost. I know my face isn't showing anything."

"I'd advise against playing cards against me, then," Sarus said, chuckling. "No. Then what? Does he keep his hostages elsewhere, or am I entirely on the wrong trail? It's the latter, isn't it? He holds some other leash on you."

"There is no leash," Graves snapped. "I'm loyal. Is that so storming hard for you to understand, Shardbreaker? I may have—" he stopped short, cutting himself off midsentence.

"You may have what?" Sarus asked softly. No answer was forthcoming, so he continued. "Loyalty is not a free thing. It must be bought or won. Some people, certainly, are loyal by default to the monarchs and brightlords their families and birthplaces served. But you're Alethi. You consider yourself a patriot. So Taravangian has no traditional sway over you, which means there is a reason you are loyal. Perhaps he has no dread punishment waiting if you betray him, and yet you remain loyal in any case. But that just begs the question: what did he give you to win that loyalty in the first place? And I suspect I know the answer."

Graves sneered. "You don't."

"No? Then it's not the strange source of intelligence he used to plan Szeth's assassinations?"

Graves' sneer slid off his face. But he rallied quickly. "You don't know anything. You're guessing."

"It's not a difficult guess to make. Your plans would have needed more knowledge about the internal politics of House Kholin than a minor lighteyes would have. Just like Taravangian would have needed more intelligence than what I saw yesterday to chart all the outcomes of Szeth's murders, unless he had considerable help."

"You don't know a thing about King Taravangian," Graves said darkly. "Not one storming thing."

"Oh?" Sarus considered. "That is an interesting objection to make."

Graves grimaced silently.

Sarus leaned on his staff, watching him, pondering. "Based on your reaction the last time we spoke, you have no fondness for Odium," he said. "And yet—if I tell you Taravangian intends to betray Roshar to him, I do not think you would be surprised. Would you?"

Graves said nothing.

"No. No surprise. King Taravangian, it seems, was very generous with his patron's information, at least among his allies." Sarus watched the prisoner's reactions carefully as he spoke, taking note of every minute shift in his face at each individual word.

Patron. There was something about the idea of Taravangian's patron that Sarus was missing. Some last piece of information Graves clung to, something Sarus had not guessed. Everything else, Sarus was fairly confident in. Taravangian had some source of incredibly valuable intelligence on all of Roshar. He had shared that information with Graves, and likely with other close allies of his. Graves had taken that information to try and supplant Elhokar with Dalinar, despite the fact that Taravangian himself had sent Szeth to kill Dalinar. All of that, Sarus was sure, was true. He was missing two pieces.

First, what was that source? Why did Graves seem almost triumphant when Sarus brought up the idea of Taravangian's patron? What was he missing there?

Second, why had someone Taravangian trusted with this incredible trove of information used it in a plan which seemed to directly contradict Taravangian's own? Why had that act not, seemingly, been viewed as a betrayal by either of them?

"Were you also willing to betray Roshar to Odium, as Taravangian is?" Sarus asked.

Graves didn't answer, just ground his teeth. In his eyes, Sarus read the conflict. As difficult as it usually was for Graves to hold himself back from the bait Sarus laid before him, in this he was glad not to answer—because even he wasn't sure what answer would come out of his mouth.

Sarus smiled. That was a weakness. A chink in the man's armor. Something Sarus could exploit.

"You know," Sarus said quietly, "We have lost all contact with Kholinar."

Graves went still.

"Last we heard, there was rioting in the city. Open sedition against Queen Aesudan's regency, I believe, although the few reports we have received have all come from biased sources. All this while the Everstorm begins ravaging the world, giving minds and purpose to the hundreds of thousands of parshmen across Roshar.

"Not all of those former slaves will become footsoldiers in Odium's army. But most will. And we already have reports of those armies marshalling in Alethkar. Moving on Kholinar. Kaladin flew all the way there, you know, to report to us." Sarus studied Graves, watching the conflict, the dread, spread across his face. "Whatever Taravangian's plan is for negotiating with Odium—even if we assume that plan will work—do you really think he will be able to negotiate for Alethkar's independence, if Odium has already conquered the kingdom by the time those negotiations take place? Do you think he will even try?"

Graves' fists clenched. Sarus suspected he was trying, unsuccessfully, to hide the fact that his hands were shaking.

"Your loyalty to King Taravangian, to the man who offered you this knowledge and allowed you to do as you think best with it, is admirable," Sarus said. And that was what had happened—Graves' reaction confirmed it. For whatever reason, Taravangian had trusted Graves with this information, and had not demanded Graves use it the same way Taravangian himself did. Fascinating. "But you are an Alethi patriot. Taravangian is not. And Alethkar… we are trying to retake it, but we are outmaneuvered. Odium knows where we are—he knows we found the Oathgate in Narak, knows we have come to Urithiru, and as soon as he finds the Unmade we drove out of this tower, he will know even more about our numbers and plans. And we have none of that information.

"We still intend to try and retake Alethkar. But one of the chief obstacles in our path is simply the lack of intelligence we have. Intelligence, it seems, that Taravangian possesses. Intelligence he is not willing to share with us. So I ask you, Graves—fellow Alethi—to help us. You want what I want, what Highprince Dalinar wants: an Alethkar free of Odium, strong enough to stand against him. So help us achieve that."

Graves swallowed, face pale. And then, at long last, he began to speak. "It's called the Diagram," he said. "I had a copy, but I had contingencies to make sure it was destroyed if I didn't return for it. Everyone has those contingencies, even if I could point you at other members. And I can't because I don't know most of them. Us."

"And what is this Diagram?" Sarus coaxed.

Graves hesitated, not because he was having second thoughts, he was committed now, but because he was visibly struggling with where to begin. "The first thing you have to understand is that King Taravangian isn't stupid," he said. "Not all the time, anyway. Some days, yes. He is. Other days, he's… brilliant. More brilliant than any man has ever been."

"I don't understand."

"I know. Nor do I. Apparently it was his curse and boon from the Nightwatcher—he asked for the capacity to save his people from the disaster he saw coming, and he was given it. He has both the heart that wants to save his people from Odium, and the mind to achieve it—but never both at the same time. Some days, it's one. Others, it's the other. Most days, somewhere in between."

"Fascinating," Sarus breathed. Little was known about the Nightwatcher. There were rumors that Dalinar had gone to see her, though Sarus had always assumed those to be just that—rumor. Folktales to explain the transformation that seemed to have been wrought in the Blackthorn after his brother's assassination, as if the death of his wife and brother weren't enough to cause those changes in and of themselves.

"He created the Diagram," Graves continued. "In one day of incredible brilliance, his smartest day ever, he charted everything. Figured out how it all fit together, saw all the patterns, all the plans, even those of the gods. And he wrote them all down, but there wasn't enough time to write it down in simple, easy-to-understand terms. So he used codes, and cyphers, and shorthand. And when he woke up the next morning, no longer brilliant—at least not as brilliant—he couldn't remember what he'd been thinking when he created it. So for the past three years we've been trying to decipher it. Trying to understand the plans he made that one day, trying our best to act them out."

"And you don't always agree," Sarus realized. "That's why Taravangian didn't mind you going your own way. Because you disagreed on interpretation, and he couldn't be sure that you were wrong."

"Exactly." Graves sighed. "We called ourselves the Diagram, because that's what we were—pieces of it, acting out our roles, playing our parts. King Taravangian's plan was to conquer as much of Roshar as possible before Odium arrived, then negotiate with Odium to leave his territory safe when he took the rest of the planet. But you're right—I don't think that's going to include Alethkar. Not with everything that's gone wrong. And I'm Alethi. That matters to me. And I'll always be grateful to King Taravangian for his trust and his help, but I have to put Alethkar first."

"And you had a copy, you said? Of the original Diagram?"

"We all do, to consult with when we need to. It's not perfect though. The original is—it's an entire room. He wrote on everything, that day. There are papers on all the walls, there's scrawling on his bedsheets, glyphs scratched into the glass of his windows. They've left that room basically untouched ever since it happened. The parts that could be transcribed make it into those books, but on his smarter days he goes back to the original room to try and figure out anything we might have missed."

Shallan, Sarus realized, has an eidetic memory.

"We need access to the Diagram," he said. "If we can get access to this information, maybe we can turn it to our own purposes. Maybe we can use it to save Alethkar. We have our own plans, too, you know. And we have information I strongly doubt Taravangian had access to when he created it, based on what I know of predicting the future." An Ainu, even a Maia like you, needs to be manually factored into my foresight. "Do you know where the original Diagram is? His bedroom, you said?"

"Yes, in Kharbranth," Graves said. He gave Sarus the location within the palace. "But it's not like you can move the entire room."

"No," Sarus said. "But we have ways. Thank you, Graves. This will, I hope, be more helpful than you can guess. You may have just saved Roshar." A bit of flattery couldn't hurt, after all.

-x-x-x-

"—Don't get careless." Moash was saying as Sarus stepped out of the Oathgate. The Shattered Plains, once a cold wasteland compared to Alethkar proper, felt like warm summer even in the early spring after the chill of the Mountains of Ur.

There were two small crowds of people congregated on the plateau. The first was comprised of more than two dozen men in Kholin blue uniforms, all clustered around Kaladin. Most of Bridge Four had turned out to say goodbye to their supposedly-former captain as he departed again for another long journey that only a Windrunner could make. Sarus would have joined them, if he hadn't needed to ferry the last stragglers by Oathgate twice now.

The second group was much smaller. Only a few people had come to see Elhokar off—his immediate family, Navani and Jasnah, as well as Dalinar and his sons. The King's Wit was there, too, a man Sarus had seen a few times but hadn't spoken to more than a handful of times. He'd heard tell of Wit's insults, but he'd never seen them in person. In fact, Wit had always seemed to him to have a habit of blending into the background, of going unseen and unnoticed even when he was present.

Then there was one person outside of both groups. Standing awkwardly to the side, a complicated expression on her face and a conflicted Rhythm on her lips, was Eshonai.

Rlain and Thude stepped out of the Oathgate chamber from behind Sarus and approached her. Her Rhythm changed as she saw them approach, becoming something warmer as a smile touched her face. Sarus, who could not honestly say he knew Eshonai particularly well, turned instead towards Elhokar first.

"Promise me you'll be careful," Adolin was telling his cousin. "I know you're king, and Kholinar is your home, but last we heard the city was in the middle of terrible unrest. We don't even know how the people would react to you without the enemy army bearing down on them, and that won't help."

"I know, I know," Elhokar said quietly. "I'll be careful, Cousin, I promise. I'll follow Kaladin's lead."

"You can trust him, you know," Sarus said, stepping up between Jasnah and Renarin. "Kaladin, I mean. You have reason not to, of course, but he renewed his oaths, and he will stay committed to them. He questioned them, and found an answer that satisfied him. He will not falter again."

"I know," Elhokar said, meeting his eyes. "I don't… I don't hold it against him. Really, I don't."

Sarus smiled slightly. "I confess, I don't find that particularly encouraging, Your Majesty," he said. "You should hold his behavior against him. You should hold mine against me, too. I'm capable of admitting that."

Elhokar frowned. "Why would you want me to hold a grudge against you? Or against Kaladin, for that matter?"

"A grudge, no," Sarus said. "But Kaladin endangered you, and I allowed you to be endangered. I would like to be forgiven for that crime, and I think Kaladin would like the same. But we cannot be forgiven if the man against whom we transgressed does not see a transgression."

"It's not that I don't see what you did…" Elhokar said. "I just—"

"You understand why we did it. Why Kaladin and I both made the choices we did. Why they seemed like reasonable courses to us at the time. And there is no anger in your heart towards either of us for it."

"Exactly."

"And that, Your Majesty, is a problem. I suspect Design will be pleased if you can admit why."

"That's cheating," Design complained from where she sat, faded and almost invisible, on Elhokar's lapel.

Sarus shot her a look. "No, it isn't. He still has to work it out for himself." He gave Elhokar another nod. "Be careful in Kholinar, Your Majesty. Be safe. We will see each other again."

Elhokar nodded firmly, eyes thoughtful. "Yes. We will. Thank you, Sarus. For everything. And—please. Call me Elhokar."

Sarus hesitated, leaning on Archive. "That… very well. Elhokar." No point in arguing, not now. There would be time, when Elhokar returned, if he even still felt like arguing then. "Good luck."

Then he turned to join the rest of Bridge Four. "I know, I know," Kaladin was saying with a rueful chuckle. "It'll be all right, Moash. We won't be taking any risks we don't absolutely have to."

"Good," Moash said. He glanced over at Sarus. "Ah, Captain, you made it."

Sarus' lips twitched at the title. "Yes, Captain, I did. I see what you're doing." He passed between the others, who parted to let him through, and stopped just a pace away from Kaladin, shifting his weight on his Shardstaff. "I suppose this is the lot of men who can fly," he said dryly. "To be constantly coming and going, never alighting in one place any longer than they must."

"Not my choice," Kaladin said. "I'd much rather be staying a while. I know the others would like longer to practice their Surgebinding, and once I'm gone they'll lose it within a few hours. But it has to be done."

"And some of us will get to practice," Murk said. "It's just the rest of you poor sods who are going to have to stay behind."

"Still don't see why we can't all go," Gadol complained.

"Yes, you do," Sarus said. "A flock of infant chickens is bound to have a few falling out of the sky. Better to have as few children for Kaladin to babysit as possible."

Gadol grumbled, but most of the others laughed at the analogy. Kaladin, however, did not. He didn't even seem to have heard it. He was looking at Sarus with a complicated expression on his face. "Sarus, I—"

"I know," Sarus said.

"That makes one of us," Kaladin mumbled.

Sarus laughed. "It's all right, my friend. You've survived far worse than this, and so have I. we've both even done so on our own. There is no doubt in my mind that you will return safely to Urithiru, and that I will be here when you do."

"Yeah, well, there was no doubt in my mind that we were going to be unstoppable together after the Tower," Kaladin said. "It took, what, two months for us to be on opposite sides of an assassination attempt?"

Several of the men shifted uncomfortably at the reminder. Sarus did not. He met Kaladin's gaze unflinchingly. "You and I are both stronger, better men now than we were even those few weeks ago," he said. "We have growing left to do, but we have excised the worst of our doubts. That is good, because it is what will allow us to do what must be done in the times to come. And when it is over, we will meet again."

"I'd still rather leave nothing unsaid between us," Kaladin said. "Just in case." In his eyes, Sarus could see the shadow of Tien, the brother Sarus had never met and would never meet.

"Very well." Sarus held out the hand that wasn't supporting his weight against his staff. Kaladin took it firmly. "Then let it not go unsaid that, if I am a better man than the one who laughed as he ran to stop you that night a few weeks ago, I consider you to be one of the primary reasons for it. If I am stronger than the man who gave up on affecting the world around him, it is because you called me Tesh that night in the barracks. I have seen the shadows of the world as it was without me, and of the man I could have been without you. Both are worse. And that fact, I credit in large part to you."

Kaladin swallowed. "I haven't seen what you have," he said. "There's a lot of things you've done I couldn't have—holding back the Everstorm, breaking the Honorblade with your body, giving me your Light when I was dying after that highstorm. I know you've doubted, sometimes, whether you've changed anything. You haven't said much about what Odium showed you. But I gathered that I was in those visions, and that from the outside I looked the same as I do in this world, with you here. But I want you to know that it doesn't matter what Odium saw from the outside. I'd be a different man if I hadn't known you. And I'm glad to be this one."

Sarus… didn't believe it.

Perhaps you should, Archive murmured in his head.

Perhaps, indeed, he should. He smiled slightly. "I'm glad," he said quietly, resolving to struggle with this question in private. Then he pulled his hand away. "Enough. The highstorm will be here any minute. You'll want to catch it."

The people on the plateau quickly reorganized. Kaladin, Elhokar, and Eshonai took the center. They were flanked by Murk, Sigzil, Drehy, and Leyten, who would be their escort from among Kaladin's squires. As the highstorm approached, Kaladin breathed in Stormlight from the heavy pouch of spheres he carried, and touched Eshonai and Elhokar in turn. They began to rise into the air. Eshonai's Rhythm changed into something sharp and exhilarated, while Elhokar's face twisted in something like dread.

Windrunner, squires, and other Radiants ascended, slowly at first, then faster, until soon they were smaller than all but the most distant of skyeels above the world. And not a moment too soon, because Sarus could see the stormwall approaching from the east. As the seven specks began their long flight northwest, he began ushering those who remained grounded on the plateau back into the Oathgate. As Kaladin and the others disappeared even from his sight, he turned and entered himself to bring them all back to Urithiru.

LithosMaitreya

Mar 31, 2025

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Threadmarks 87: Night Patrols New

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LithosMaitreya

Character Witness

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Apr 14, 2025

#2,110

Thanks to Elran and BeaconHill for betareading, and to Phinnia for the commissioned icon.

-x-x-x-

Night Patrols

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When I started writing, I intended only to tell you I shared your concerns about Rayse.

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"Eshonai," Rlain said as he and Thude stepped past Sarus and approached her. As they did, he saw Eshonai relax, and the Rhythm of Longing in her chest gave way to Joy.

"Rlain, Thude," she said. "I was…" she paused. "I'm glad to see you."

"We wouldn't let you leave without seeing you off," Rlain said to Fortune, as was customary for farewells. Beside him, Thude took up humming the same Rhythm. "You're packed? Well-stocked with Stormlight?"

Eshonai shifted the weight of her rucksack on her back. "I am," she said. "I thought you were in a meeting of the Five?"

"I was," Rlain said. "But I left early."

"They didn't mind?"

Rlain thought about the displeasure on Abronai's soft face as he excused himself. "I didn't care," he said. "You'll be gone for weeks. You won't leave without a proper farewell."

"The rest of the Five don't seem to understand the importance of your mission," Thude said. "They think this is just a way to get you away from the rest of the Listeners for a while. Stupid. What you're doing out there is more important than anything we'll be up to back here."

"I doubt that," Eshonai said. "You'll be keeping our people alive here. Keeping them from starving, keeping the Alethi from attacking us, keeping us from attacking them."

"And you will be taking the Listener cause, our culture, to the singers who have known nothing but enslavement," Rlain said. "First to the Alethi, and then to Odium. In a way, you will be living up to the promise of our people more than we ever have. The Listeners came into being in resistance to Odium. Now we take that resistance to its logical conclusion. You will be actively standing against him, trying to bring other singers out from under his influence. It's a very important task."

Eshonai grimaced, humming to Tension. "If the others saw it that way, they wouldn't be happy about me doing it."

"No," Rlain agreed. "Which is why I haven't put it to them in those terms. When you return, successful, they will have no choice but to admit what we here already know—that you are one of us. That you are loyal. That what happened was not your fault."

Eshonai continued humming to Tension for a moment. "And if I fail?"

"Then you will have tried. All I ask is that, success or failure, you return. The rest, we can manage after."

Eshonai allowed Tension to give way to Resolve. "I will. Thank you, Rlain."

He joined in the Rhythm with her. "Thank you, Eshonai, for what you go to do. It can only be you. I've been speaking to some of the humans about Radiants. They say the Willshaper Order believed in the right of all people to be free. So go, Willshaper, and free our people."

"I will."

"Eshonai!" Kaladin called. "Ready to go?"

"Yes!" Eshonai responded. She met Rlain's eyes one last time. "I'm going to change into workform during the flight, if I can," she said. "Once we're in Kholinar, I'll try to blend in with the other singers."

"Good luck."

Rlain and Thude stepped away and allowed Eshonai to join Kaladin, Elhokar, and the squires who would be joining them. As the highstorm approached, Kaladin Lashed them, and Eshonai and the others disappeared into the sky. Rlain watched until she was too small to make out before turning away.

-x-x-x-

"General," the leader of the Listener patrol said as all three warform soldiers saluted him.

He saluted them back, the pale light of the hallway spherelamps casting strange, rippling shadows across all of their marbling patterns. "Any disturbances?"

"None, sir," said the officer.

"Very good."

Two minutes later, Rlain closed the door to his private chamber with a sigh. He hummed to the Rhythm of Rest as he infused the dun spherelamp on one wall with Stormlight, illuminating the small room.

Eshonai's departure had been only one of many things that needed to be seen to from dawn to dusk today. Not even the first—that had been the morning meeting of the Five, where they had discussed candidates for the new representative for workform and the need to begin searching for new forms again. That search had previously been headed by Venli—that was why no one had originally doubted her when she revealed her discovery of stormform. Even now, Rlain wondered whether that had been a legitimate discovery gone horribly wrong, or a plot laid by Odium.

Zuln had argued that there was no need to replace Venli. That they could not risk another calamity like stormform. Chivi had agreed, but Abronai and Rlain had argued that they had a better understanding now of what they needed to watch for, in any newly discovered form, and how to prevent something like the spread of stormform through the Listeners from happening again. For now, they were at an impasse on the topic, but that deadlock would be broken when the Five had the correct number of members once again.

After seeing Eshonai off, Rlain had overseen the first drills of the new warform Listeners. Only a few Listeners took warform in each highstorm, for the simple reason that almost every Listener interested in warform had been lost to stormform during the Battle of Narak. But there were a few volunteers, spurred by the strange new circumstances in which the Listeners found themselves. Every one of those new warriors needed to be trained from scratch, and Rlain and Thude were the most qualified to provide that training.

By the time he finished, the sun was setting into the mountains to the west of the tower. He went to the Listeners' makeshift mess hall, ate quickly while fielding questions and concerns from what felt like every Listener he hadn't already spoken to today (and several he had), and then, finally, he could retreat to his room for the night.

And even then, the first of the Listeners' night patrols had given one last distraction before he could rest for the evening. It was unsettling that they needed patrols of the corridors between their own chambers, but those corridors connected directly to rooms inhabited by the Alethi. So far, there had been no outbursts larger than a tavern brawl. Rlain worried constantly that the slightest lapse in caution would bring an end to that peace. And now that he was one of the Five, he was directly responsible for preventing those lapses in caution.

He sank into the chair by the window, looking out at the violet moonlight painting the snowy mountaintops. Tomorrow, he knew, would be another long day of labor and responsibility and little rest. As a dullform spy in the Alethi warcamps, he had often been bored. While he didn't miss the way the Rhythms felt distant in dullform, he did miss that boredom. Sometimes, at least.

"You should sleep," Patu'ua said quietly from a shelf beside the bed.

"I will," Rlain said to Rest. "But I want to enjoy at least a little of the evening."

"You've been very busy," Patu'ua observed. "Your role as General has added more work than I expected."

"Some of this work would have come to me even if I'd refused the title," Rlain said. "I would still need to train the new soldiers, still need to help develop the patrol routes, still need to manage our relationships with the humans and the other Radiants. I just might not have to do quite as much of those things alone."

"Particularly if Eshonai had remained in Urithiru."

Rlain shook his head. "This is good for her," he said. "Here among the Listeners, she is reminded every day of what happened, and that most of our people blame her for it. She will like Kaladin, and it will be good for her to have work that only she can do."

"Assuming she is strong enough to see it done. Subterfuge, espionage—these are not skills in which Eshonai is trained."

"Nor was I, when I was sent to the Alethi. I managed."

"You were talented. And you were infiltrating a people who were accustomed to seeing those who look like you as lesser beings. Eshonai is going to infiltrate other singers, led by the Fused. It will be more difficult."

"I trust her."

"Good."

Rlain stretched, a yawn slotting neatly into a break in the Rhythm of Rest. "Patu'ua, I am curious. You originally did not intend to take a singer as your Stoneward, correct?"

"Yes. I do not regret it."

"And I appreciate that, truly. But my question is, why have we seen so few spren? You are the only peakspren I've heard of. Archive and Ivory are the only inkspren. Syl is the only honorspren. Are there truly no others crossing over from Shadesmar?"

"I expect there will be more coming now, as they feel the enemy's presence more acutely," Patu'ua said. "Odium's armies, according to Jasnah's report, have blockaded Cultivation's Perpendicularity. They will be swarming all over Shadesmar, I expect. It will be impossible even for the most isolationist spren, such as the honorspren or inkspren, to ignore. It will be a difficult decision for many, to decide whether their hatred of Odium is a greater force than the sting of the Recreance. But it is a decision being forced more and more with each passing day, and not all of them will decide to remain apart."

"But many will," Rlain said.

"Yes. The honorspren in particular will not come across in large numbers. They are a stiff-necked people. Proud. They have convinced themselves that the affairs of mankind, that the war against Odium, are not their affair."

"Are they right?" Rlain asked. "What will Odium do to them if he wins?"

"He may leave them be in their fortress-cities," Patu'ua allowed. "But he is Odium. The hatred of God. And Honor is an old enemy of his. I think it more likely that he will take his vengeance upon them only after they have allowed all of their potential allies to be destroyed. But they will not convince themselves of that."

"Then how can we convince them, if they refuse to come into the Physical Realm in the first place?"

"We may have to go to them," Patu'ua said. "Perhaps not yet—there are still too few Radiants, and certainly too few Elsecallers and Willshapers, to be traveling to and from Shadesmar freely. I believe the Oathgates should be able to transmit their users there, though no one has yet figured out how. But once we have a way to reliably go between this Realm and the Cognitive, we may need to send envoys to the larger populations of spren."

"One more problem to solve," Rlain sighed. He looked out the window one last time, then stood up and turned towards his bed. "I'll sleep now. Good night, Patu'ua."

"Sleep well, Stoneward."

-x-x-x-

"Rlain!"

At the sudden call, Rlain turned away from the would-be soldiers he was drilling. Renarin was approaching, wearing his Bridge Four uniform. There were two distinct outfits Renarin wore, he had found: there was the military Bridge Four uniform, and there were the finer jackets and doublets he wore in his capacity as Prince Renarin of House Kholin. To the average Listener, he suspected the two were indistinguishable—both were dyed in the rich blue of House Kholin, and both included the double-breasted coat standard in Alethi military fashion. But Rlain, when it came to understanding humans, was far from the average Listener. "Renarin," he greeted warmly, speaking to the Rhythm of Joy. "What brings you here?"

"I—Father wanted to talk to you," Renarin said. "About policing? He wanted to discuss the Listener patrols in the tower."

Rlain was conscious of the muttering spreading among the Listeners behind him. He ignored it for the moment. "I'm happy to discuss it with him," he said. "Tell me, is Sarus aware of whatever the issue is?"

"Um… I don't know?"

Rlain shrugged. He'd have liked Sarus' help mediating with Dalinar, but it would hopefully be unnecessary. Dalinar, while not exactly an easy man to get along with, was also not Rlain's enemy. "All right," he said. "Give me a moment." He turned back to the trainees. "I have to be a General for a bit, instead of a sergeant," he told them to Amusement. He was gratified to hear Tension give way to Amusement in their throats as well. "I want you all to keep practicing that kata for… let's say another half an hour. Then you can break for lunch. Well done today."

They saluted in unison. Five years ago, that sort of military discipline had been entirely new to the Listeners. But they had learned it quickly. He saluted them back, then turned to Renarin. "Let me go change into my Bridge Four uniform," he said. "Then we can go and speak with your father."

Renarin blinked. "This is a Sarus thing, isn't it?"

Rlain grinned, humming to Amusement. "Yes."

Several minutes later, he stepped back out of his room, clad in the Kholin blue uniform Kaladin had ordered for him months ago. He'd had to get it tailored after his arrival at Urithiru, to account for his new warform proportions, and he hadn't had much opportunity to wear it since. He spent most of his time among other Listeners, now, and they would not be encouraged to see one of their Neshua Kadal, and now their General, wearing the uniform of the people they had been at war with not two months ago. But there were times when a uniform was the correct thing for him to wear.

Times like now.

"Shall we?" he asked Renarin, who nodded and started down the corridor. Rlain fell into step beside him.

"I haven't seen you much lately," Renarin said. "You're not spending much time with the rest of Bridge Four these days."

"I wish I had more time," Rlain said to Longing. "I miss the others. And Rock's stew."

Renarin nodded. His face carried little expression, but that wasn't so unusual to Rlain. The man almost seemed like a singer, except that he didn't hum the Rhythms to display the emotions his face kept hidden. "I'm sure you're busy. I'm not sure what being a general implies for the Listeners, but I know Khal has a lot of work overseeing the army."

"Not a general," Rlain corrected. "The General. The Listeners have only the one. I represent warform on the Council of Five, as Eshonai did. And yes, it is a great deal of work."

"The Council of Five?"

"Our people's leadership. Each of our forms has a representative, and those representatives make decisions for the Listeners as a whole."

"How did you become General, then?" Renarin asked. "If Eshonai was General before you… I suppose she doesn't have any children. Was one of her parents General before her?"

"No," Rlain shook his head. He hummed to Amusement, but he didn't laugh. He suspected Renarin had been laughed at for not understanding things far too often in his life. "That's not how it works among us. First of all, the Listeners have only been united for a few years—we first united shortly after first contact with the Alethi, before the war broke out. Before then, each family had their own Five. Some of those families did pass the roles down through direct descent, but not all. We haven't yet figured out how we're going to handle succession for the Five in the long term. There have been more pressing issues. I only became General because the Listeners… didn't entirely trust Eshonai anymore, after everything that happened with stormform."

"Oh." Renarin was silent for a while as they continued down the corridor. "So you don't know who will be General after you? It could be anyone?"

"Any Listener who wears warform most of the time," Rlain said. "At some point, we'll develop a more reliable system. I'm inclined towards the Azish system of choosing their Emperor, although we probably won't use essays. We've only had a system of writing like your people for a decade. Venli developed it after we met you."

"Do you know how to write, then?"

"No." Rlain shook his head. "I haven't had the chance to learn. When I have the time, I hope to."

"I suppose you're not Alethi. There's no stigma against it among your people."

"No. And I can't deny the utility." Rlain grinned, still speaking to Amusement. "Did you know, Alethi women have a whole section of their writing that they don't read aloud to men? They call it 'undertext.' I overheard a few women talking about it when I was posing as a slaveform servant."

"I know. I taught myself to read over the past few months. Writing showed up too often in my visions. I needed to understand it."

"Oh, really? I didn't know."

Renarin nodded. They lapsed into silence, save for Rlain humming to Peace, as they ascended the lift and emerged onto the upper floor where Dalinar typically held court. Renarin led Rlain to the Gallery of Maps, where Dalinar stood with his back to the door.

"—why it's failing now," the highprince was saying to the empty room. "The Nightwatcher's Old Magic is supposed to be absolute."

I do not know, the Rider of Storms' rumbling voice answered. But you have guests.

Dalinar turned. "Ah, Renarin. Rlain. Thank you for coming. I wanted to discuss the Listener military patrols that have been going throughout the tower's corridors the past few weeks."

Rlain nodded. "Of course," he said. Though he wore the uniform of Bridge Four, he did not call the man 'Brightlord'. He wanted to remind Dalinar of his kinship with the Alethi through Bridge Four, but he did not want to make Dalinar think he was a subordinate. "I just finished refining those routes with Thude yesterday."

Dalinar clasped his hands behind his back. "I've had a few complaints from some of the people living nearest the Listeners," he said. "Apparently, they've been creeping up and down the corridors at all hours, even at night, even in some sections without any Listeners at all. There's been no violence, thankfully, but I was hoping we could come to some sort of compromise."

"I'm sure we can, Highprince," Rlain said to Peace. "I know there were a few Listeners going a little further afield than necessary in the previous routes. We've cut down on that—our patrols shouldn't be going anywhere that doesn't have Listeners."

"That's good," Dalinar said. "I appreciate it. But I think it would also help my people's peace of mind if you cut down on the nighttime patrols as well."

Rlain hummed to Consideration—not because he was actually considering acquiescing, but because he was thinking about what to say. "I don't think we can do that," he said. "The nighttime is when those patrols are most important."

Dalinar frowned. "Surely you don't think the Alethi would attack you in your sleep? I'd have anyone who tried strung up."

"I believe you," Rlain said honestly. "Though it would be little comfort to whatever Listener they got to first. But, no, I don't actually think such an attack is likely. That's not the purpose of the patrols."

"Then what is?"

"Reassurance. My people have difficulty sleeping, Highprince Dalinar, surrounded as they are on all sides by the very people who were trying to drive us extinct mere weeks ago. Those patrols let us feel like we have claimed that part of the tower as our own. I am not particularly worried about the Alethi attacking us, because the Alethi have Odium to fight—or will, very soon. So long as we keep to ourselves and avoid making ourselves scapegoats, I suspect we will outlast the Alethi's enmity. No—the patrols are meant to prevent my people from causing problems."

Dalinar blinked. "What on Roshar do you mean?"

"So long as my people patrol those corridors," Rlain said, "they feel like they have some control. They feel like that part of the tower is theirs. They worry about the humans on our 'borders', but at least there are such so-called borders to draw between us. If those patrols stopped—or worse, were replaced by human ones? There would be panic. And panicked people lash out."

"I… had not considered that."

"I know," Rlain said. "If there's any other concern you have, we can discuss it. But I can't stop the nighttime patrols."

Dalinar nodded slowly. "You give me your word that those night patrols won't be causing any trouble for my people?"

"I swear it," Rlain said. He considered telling Dalinar about the Listener tradition of assassination—white to give warning—but decided that it would be in poor taste to explain the Assassin in White to the brother of his first victim.

"I'm satisfied, then," Dalinar said. "I'll talk to the people who were complaining, see to it that they don't make trouble for you."

"I appreciate it, Highprince Dalinar."

Dalinar nodded. "I won't keep you, then."

Rlain returned the nod, humming to Peace, then left, giving Renarin a quick crossed-hands Bridge Four salute on his way out.

Last edited: Apr 14, 2025

LithosMaitreya

Apr 14, 2025

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