Chapter 108

The best way to win is to provide your opponent with no options but to lose. But beware the assumption that you have considered every possibility.

— Proverbs for Towers and War, Zenaz, date unknown

A s Szeth led Kaladin to the Skybreaker monastery, the land grew exceptionally hilly. Brown rolling hills, covered in scrub grasses that hugged the ground. More weed than true grass, the plants had petals that spread out rather than grew upward. Szeth had never learned their names.

Kaladin found the grass fascinating. He still had a childlike wonder when investigating common, normal plants. Szeth might have gotten tired of that attitude, had it not grown into a certain respect and admiration. Kaladin actually appeared to like this place. After years in the East, Szeth would not have expected that from one of them.

“This grass is like half something of your world,” Kaladin explained at Szeth’s questioning glance, “and half something of mine. It doesn’t move when touched, but it looks like it’s hiding on the ground, trying to get out of the wind.”

This terrain was a borderland between their worlds. They crossed large sections of stone where the soil had washed away, and the road wound around those parts. Szeth didn’t bother to do likewise. Not anymore.

Eventually they halted atop a particularly tall hill, facing eastward. In these highlands, with their chill air even this far north, it didn’t feel like much separated them from stonewalker lands. The barrier here seemed more philosophical than physical.

Sylphrena came flying down to check on them. “You two all right?” she asked, remaining as a ribbon of light.

“Just wondering what’s happening to Dalinar and the others,” Kaladin said. “No reply from the spanreed last night. I wonder if we’re too unimportant to answer. Do you feel anything, Syl?”

“I feel a trembling in the wind,” she said, her voice growing smaller. “The world is holding its breath.”

Kaladin glanced to Szeth, who shrugged. He would have liked to be with Dalinar, but it was not his task. So he started down the hill. “I have decided,” he told Kaladin as the man caught up, “that I need to fight and kill despite my preferences. The duty I bear is too great.”

He glanced to Kaladin after he said it, ashamed.

The Windrunner merely nodded. “I’m sorry, Szeth. What can I do to help?”

“I cannot be persuaded.”

“I gathered that from the tone of your voice. Can I help?”

Szeth continued more carefully—waiting for the objections. “If I am to be a Herald, I will need to fight. That is that.”

Kaladin nodded, looking thoughtful as he hiked. Today, they had split the swords between them. Szeth wore Nightblood and a few Honorblades on his back, while Kaladin had tied several to the large rucksack he wore.

“I hear you,” Kaladin said. “I’ve had that same problem. Still rips me up inside, to think of the men—and singers—I’ve killed. At first, it helped me to divide everyone into us and them, then focus only on protecting the us. The longer I was in the military though, the more that shifted.”

“How?” Szeth asked, genuinely curious.

Kaladin’s expression grew distant. “I started to realize, Szeth, there can always be more them. When I started fighting? It wasn’t against Parshendi; it was my own people. Not even from another kingdom, merely other Alethi. We’ll always find someone to fight, if we look. I’ve fought against one of my own brothers, the man who took your sword. I realized I couldn’t simply kill whenever I was told. Neither could I walk away, or people I loved would die.”

“So … what did you do?” Szeth asked. “It sounds like there’s no answer.”

“No explicit one,” Kaladin said. “I do know someone, Zahel, who just walked away. I respect that. But I had to draw lines I wouldn’t cross.” He took a deep breath, as if admitting this next part was difficult. “Then I had to step up and take responsibility. Become one of the people who made decisions. If I wanted the killing to stop, I had to make it stop. From the top, as a leader.” He cocked his head. “I guess … I guess that means I really should be a lighteyes, doesn’t it? Maybe that was why Dalinar was offering …”

Szeth slowed on the path, considering. Then he stopped. “Kaladin?”

The other man hesitated, looking back.

“Tell me what to do,” Szeth said. “When we reach the next monastery. Should I fight, or should I refuse?”

Kaladin smiled, then shook his head and continued on.

Szeth ran to catch up, awkwardly holding the bundle of swords on his back, kicking up dust. “I will do as you say.”

“Not going to happen, Szeth.”

“You came to help me! Dalinar commanded you.”

“I’m helping as best I can,” Kaladin said. “What do you feel you should do?”

“I feel I need to fight,” Szeth said. “I have to kill. Someone needs to do it.”

“Then I’ll support you. Help you work through the pain.”

“But you want me to make the other choice,” Szeth said. “Say it.”

“I want you to choose. What I’d choose isn’t relevant, Szeth. I’m not here to make you do anything specific. I’m here to try to help you be healthy in making your choice.”

And … he seemed honest. Legitimately honest. How long had it been since someone in Szeth’s life had … refused to give him orders? The only time he could remember was long ago, when he’d spoken to the Farmer in his childhood.

Kaladin was a killer, one of the best Szeth knew. But somehow he expressed the same wisdom as the most peaceful man Szeth had ever met. It was a revelation. Like a burst of gloryspren, though he did not draw any in this place. Kaladin had actually found a path to peace. It was possible.

Szeth could choose to find peace himself. And perhaps, maybe, with work, he could be well again.

Suddenly, everything looked different. Windswept hills weren’t just dusty and brown, they were home, welcoming Szeth back after his long, exhausting trials. A blue sky that had watched him dance wanted to see joy once more. Life wasn’t a thing of beauty for him, and the shadows hadn’t vanished, but someone had found a way out. The road was no longer a path toward doom or death. It was a way forward.

Strange, how much could change because of a conversation.

Szeth’s first instinct was still to try to swear some oath to Kaladin, this man who had shown him so much. But that was wrong. That wasn’t the point.

Don’t expect to heal quickly, he thought, recalling one of the things Kaladin had said to him early on. Szeth was surprised he remembered. He had been listening more than he assumed. It’s a long road.

Well, Szeth was accustomed to long roads.

“Is that it?” Kaladin asked, pointing up the way to some structures on a ridge.

“That is it.”

“Feels … wrong,” Kaladin said, frowning. They shared a look, and Szeth nodded. Yes, it did.

They were in the air a moment later to get a better view. Syl joined them in ribbon form, and the problems became evident: fallen roofs, the walls standing alone, the broken doors.

This town had been attacked. Without waiting for Kaladin, Szeth increased his Lashing, wind rushing around him. The town here was clustered among hills in a dusty, out-of-the-way section of the highlands. Nothing but brown wilderness extended for miles outside the town’s walls.

“This happened a while ago,” Kaladin said as they slowed above the monastery. “A couple of the buildings are burned, but there’s no scent of smoke.”

“Agreed,” Szeth said. This place had been raided, then abandoned. No, he thought, noticing some movement in the shadows of rubble. Mostly abandoned.

“You see that?” Kaladin asked, pointing at some other shadows. “The people are here, as in the other towns. The darkness covers this place.”

“I had hoped it would be different,” Szeth said.

“Why?” Syl asked, forming her full-sized human shape.

“Because we know this Honorbearer,” Szeth said, leading the way down toward the monastery in the center of town—the largest structure, perched on one of the higher hills.

They landed before the monastery, which had a broken-in roof, but all four walls standing. The great wooden gates were ajar, and Syl peeked in first, then nodded to the other two. The doors were heavy enough that they had to slip in between them, leaving them mostly shut.

Inside, a figure in a black uniform stood at the far end of the grand entryway. Facing them. Hands on the crossguard of his Shardblade, which was planted point-first into the stone floor. Nin-son-God looked unchanged from when he’d left them last night.

Szeth took off his swords and handed them to Kaladin.

Szeth? Nightblood asked. I think you should use me for this fight. I’m a really good sword.

“I know, sword-nimi,” Szeth whispered. “I fear this is not the test for you.”

But—

“Please let me choose,” Szeth said.

Oh. Oh, RIGHT. Got it.

Szeth nodded to Kaladin, then summoned his Blade. He turned and strode farther into the room, stepping into sunlight streaming through the broken roof. He walked over and around the rubble of its fall, and some boulders from a collapsed chimney.

“Sir?” he asked Nin. “What happened here?”

“There are those,” the Herald said, “who seek to prevent what is coming. What you will become.”

Szeth stopped a safe distance away. “Is this challenge like the others?” he asked, right palm sweaty as he carried his Blade. Could he … fight a Herald ?

“No,” Nin said, bringing him relief. “You would not survive a fight against me, so it would be unfair. Thus, in this challenge, I simply command you to accept your place. The next monastery is the last, where you will be tested to your fullest. I demand your word that you will obey me, and do exactly as I tell you, once we reach it.”

It was a simple test. The easiest for Szeth. For he always did as his masters required.

“Now,” Nin said, “give me your oath.”

Szeth opened his mouth. And an oddity slipped out.

“No.”

Silence. Even the whispers quieted, shocked.

“Szeth,” Nin said, “I require this.”

“Tell me what you will make me do,” Szeth found himself saying. “I cannot judge if I do not know the cost.”

Nin floated forward, his coat trembling in the breeze. “You never needed this before.”

Szeth did not speak. He had said what he wanted.

Nin halted maybe five feet away. Within Shardblade striking distance. “Promise me you will follow my commands,” he said softly. “Give me an oath. This is your test, Szeth.”

The room felt colder. Szeth breathed out, and swore he saw it puff. “What is happening to this land, Nin? Why are the people consumed by darkness? Who is the Unmade that I fight? What is going on ?”

“You don’t need to know that yet. Speak the words.”

Szeth met his eyes, and said them. “I,” he whispered, “am not a thing. ”

Nin let the slightest sigh of annoyance pass his lips. It was the strongest sign of emotion Szeth had seen from him.

“I,” Szeth repeated, “am not a thing, Nin. I’m not a rock to be handed between people, exchanged like money. I’m a person. You ask me to be a Herald. A Herald! A demigod, an immortal leader of humankind. Yet you want me to do as I’m told?”

“You always have before,” Nin said.

“I was broken before!” Szeth shrieked. “I was ripped away from my perfect life and pounded and forged and beaten into a weapon! I can’t be what you want! At least not unless I know what it will cost me. I get to choose. I … I deserve to be able to decide. If I can’t have the life I want, I at least deserve to choose what I’m walking toward instead!”

He looked to Nin, pleading, wishing for him to understand. Szeth just needed this small measure of comfort. He’d do it. He’d take up the mantle, he’d give away everything he’d started to dream he could have. He’d do it.

But he had to make the choice. It was a luxury that he’d never before wanted, but that now—suddenly—he absolutely needed.

“So be it,” Nin said, raising his sword in one hand. “We will do this the more difficult way. I do not think it is possible, but you will have to defeat me as you did the others. If you kill me, I will be reborn, as our immortality was sealed through ancient arts related to—but not dependent upon—the Oathpact. Unfortunately, I am very likely to kill you instead.”

He stepped down onto the ground, leaving the air to give himself purchase and leverage for a lunge, then swung.

Szeth dropped his Shardblade, determined not to fight.

It was the wrong choice.

He knew that in an instant. His sister had refused to kill him, but Nin would not hold back.

So Szeth saw his death approach as a silver wave of light. Until a spear intercepted it with a resounding clang.

Kaladin stepped up beside Szeth, tossing off Nale’s attack.

“You cannot interfere, Stormblessed,” Nale said, calm, pulling backward into the air.

This man, Kaladin thought. This storming man. “For a person who harps on about the law so often,” Kaladin snapped, “I find it shocking that you forget there are no rules.”

“It should be a struggle between me and him,” Nale said.

“Szeth,” Kaladin said, not daring to take his eyes off Nale, “do you want my help?”

“Yes, please,” Szeth whispered. “Nin, this is my champion. I cannot fight you. I choose not to. But he defeated me. He can defeat you.”

Nale raised his sword in a formal posture. He blinked once, then turned to Kaladin. “I see. This is the way forward. Once you are dead, Szeth will be free of your influence.”

“Nale,” Kaladin said. “Don’t force this. Let’s talk about—”

“I will be your death, Stormblessed,” Nale said. “If you are certain you accept this charge and duty.”

Great. Your thoughts? he asked Syl in his mind.

I think this is the only way, she replied. But Kaladin … Heralds are supposed to be virtually undefeatable.

If that were the case, he thought, they wouldn’t have died during each of the Desolations. They still need Stormlight, right? They’re experts in the Surges. So maybe …

“Your word, Stormblessed?” Nale asked.

“You’d accept such an unfair fight?” Kaladin asked, treading carefully, his armor spren humming in his mind, currently invisible—as they usually were when not dancing with the wind—but ready to manifest. “I’m willing, but I want to be sure.”

“If you do not face me, I will kill Szeth,” Nale said. “So this is fairer than slaying him as he stands there.”

“And if we could make it even more fair?” Kaladin said, untying the pouch of spheres at his belt. “I’d go without Stormlight. What about you? Just the skill of one soldier against another.”

“I am blessed with millennia of training. It would not be fair even still.”

“But more fair?” Kaladin pressed.

Nale contemplated, then fished a pouch from his pocket.

What do you think? Kaladin asked Syl.

I think … this might be better, she said. You’re more recently practiced without powers. He might be rusty. But do you really want to fight? Isn’t there another way to reach him?

Logic won’t work, Kaladin thought to her. If he were reasonable, we wouldn’t be here. So maybe this is the only way to force him to change.

Another voice … “Take care,” the Wind whispered. “Honor is dead, and Jezrien is gone. Nale … can command forces once forbidden him … But this is your best chance …”

“Fine,” Nale said, tossing first one pouch to Szeth, then a second, then finally a third. “Sword against spear.”

“Fine,” Kaladin said, tossing his gemstones to Szeth as well. “I accept your challenge, Nale. I will protect the one who cannot right now protect himself.”

“Windrunners,” Nale said, as if it were a curse. “Still, I commend you for your sacrifice.” The man dropped fully to the rubble, boots scraping stone and broken bits of wood, then exhaled until his Stormlight was gone.

Kaladin infused a rock with all of his own Stormlight and sent it sailing off at an angle into the sky. Szeth, holding their pouches of spheres, backed up toward the wall—where Kaladin had dropped his pack and the Honorblades.

“I have heard of your skill with the weapon, Stormblessed,” Nale said, swinging with his Blade experimentally as he stretched. “I shall enjoy seeing what you can do. I warn you, this is to the death. Your armor is allowed, as are our Blades and talents unrelated to Stormlight. We go on your mark.”

Kaladin stepped back, raised his spear into position, and gave a mental command to his armor to make sure it was in place.

“ Go, ” he said.

After dealing with an interesting matter involving the battle at the Shattered Plains, Jasnah met Fen at the designated time in the small temple Dalinar had repaired. Fen arrived with apparent curiosity, while Jasnah …

Jasnah was drawing exhaustionspren.

She’d wasted time, exactly as Odium had predicted, mulling over the nature of the upcoming debate. She’d compared notes with Fen, who had also been visited by Odium and been told the same thing: to meet at the temple for a debate about whether or not Thaylenah should join his empire.

Jasnah had held herself back—with general success—from diving into the historical record to search for examples of one of the three gods appearing directly to individuals. Instead she’d gone straight to Wit.

His words, via spanreed, had persuaded her. Taravangian taking up Odium explained, in Wit’s mind, the deity’s odd behavior. Rayse always did assume he was invincible, Wit had written, even before his Ascension. But all along, the power has been seeking someone more aligned to its interests. Taravangian’s Ascension is the answer to the question I was seeking. And good riddance to a terrible person who deserved far worse than he got. I hope it was painful.

That said, I do not know if this is good for us. Rayse was crafty, dangerous, and destructive—but he was easy to anticipate and goad into action. Taravangian … I do not know him well enough. Take care. He will no longer be the man you knew, but a being of immense power. Not truly God, a point upon which you and I agree, but the closest the cosmere knows.

She’d prepared as best she could, all night. Now Jasnah settled down at her table, laying out her books and scribbled notes. Fen paced, wearing Thaylen clothing: a vest and blouse above an ankle-length skirt with straps up over the shoulders.

“You really think he’s going to come?” Fen said. “This isn’t some distraction?”

“Taravangian is a philosopher. He will welcome the chance to prove himself in a debate.”

“Taravangian,” Fen said, pacing back the other way. “I don’t believe it’s him. This is a game. Though I’m intrigued. I’ll admit, even with all of our preparations, I was worried about losing the city to his army. But our battle is merely a conversation … If he realized he couldn’t conquer us, and is instead trying something more desperate … this could stall us until the deadline.”

Jasnah didn’t contradict her, though she was far less certain. Her gut said that an army would be easier to deal with than the concentrated attention of a Shard of Adonalsium. She looked over her notes again, readying her arguments.

Fen found that amusing as well. She insisted she wasn’t going to give in to Odium as Tashikk and Emul had, so why did Jasnah bother? But Taravangian was subtle, careful, and highly capable. He obviously thought this would work. To that end, Jasnah had rehearsed appeals to the Thaylen sense of pride and independence. Arguments against the morality of the singer empire. Specific criticisms of Odium’s historical methods of rule, which she had records to prove.

Having done all of that, having spent so many hours planning in a flurry, she suddenly felt foolish. It was all so obvious. Of course the Thaylens wouldn’t choose to follow the enemy. They had worried, throughout the founding of the coalition, that Jasnah’s uncle would dominate them. They were quite capable of rejecting Odium doing the same.

Why, then, was she so anxious?

The entrance to the small room darkened. Guards who had been waiting outside rushed in to surround Fen, one of them even charging through the black smoke itself. He stopped in front of the queen and put the point of his sword toward the forming Shard. Jasnah took a mental note to ask his name later; he might be Radiant material.

The darkness coalesced into a kindly old man, standing straight-backed, but with a golden walking stick. He had on orange and gold robes that weren’t nearly as gaudy as the attire his predecessor had reportedly worn. As in life, Taravangian had a wispy beard, pointed at the front, white and short along his jaw. He hadn’t fixed his balding forehead.

He didn’t seem to mind looking small and unassuming. “It’s good to see you both again,” he said. “Thank you for taking my suggestions seriously. Fen, you will not need those guards.”

She eyed him, mostly obscured by hulking soldiers, then quietly asked for them to step outside. They went reluctantly. Jasnah’s tension rose as Taravangian sat down, a stool forming behind him from dark smoke.

He waved in front of him. “Shall we chat here, as former friends?” Two more stools formed.

“I don’t see the need, Odium,” Fen said, folding her arms, remaining standing. “I can just tell you no, right here, right now. There will be no accommodation between us.”

“Fen, Fen,” Taravangian said. “Are you not a merchant? A queen of merchants? Are you absolutely certain you want to reject an offer before you even hear the terms?”

“I can’t imagine any terms,” Fen said, “that would convince me to give up my country to you.”

“Then what harm is there in listening?” Taravangian asked. “It will keep me distracted, after all. Wouldn’t an extended negotiation serve you best? So long as I have hope to persuade you, I obviously won’t need to try other ploys for the city.”

She eyed him. “Well, storms,” she said under her breath. “It truly is you, isn’t it?”

“It truly is,” Taravangian said. “Jasnah, you’ve confirmed with your Wit?”

“I have,” she admitted.

“Tell him I apologize for the necessity of altering his memories,” Taravangian said. “He realized almost immediately that I wasn’t Rayse—but I had not yet decided how to reveal myself.” He gestured before him once more. “Shall we sit and discuss? I promise to deploy no tricks against you, and no attacks upon this city, during our conversation. It is a promise that, in making, I am bound by deific powers to keep.”

Jasnah looked at Fen, who looked back. Finally, the two of them picked up chairs—reminiscent of the way Dalinar insisted they all carry seats at Urithiru—and placed them in a circle with Taravangian at the center of the chamber. With a sigh, he made his stools vanish.

“How is this going to proceed?” Fen said as she sat. “You make an argument, and Jasnah counters it?”

“Actually,” Taravangian said, smiling, “I believe Jasnah is going to make my argument for me.”

“ What? ” Jasnah said, nearly scattering the stacks of papers in her lap.

“You, Jasnah,” Taravangian said. “You are the reason Fen will decide to join my empire.” He smiled more broadly. “Thank you for your service all of these years. Now, let us begin.”