Chapter 117

NINE YEARS AGO

O nce again, Szeth sat while others decided his fate.

Tonight he did it by a fire, arms crossed on his knees, cheeks stained with tears. His army camped a short distance away. The Stoneward army had retreated to its fortifications. All the others camped around him, and their Honorbearers stood with his father nearby.

At least Szeth had finally become a threat that was worthy of attention. His father …

His father carried an Honorblade now.

Neturo had become one who subtracted.

It was silly to let this bother Szeth. Neturo had become a soldier the moment he’d joined up, and he’d trained with the sword like everyone else. It was just that … he’d become an administrator so quickly, and Szeth had trouble picturing him as a killer. Yet the Bondsmith Blade was said to be the most destructive of them all. When the time came, the others would kill hundreds, and the Bondsmith tens of thousands …

His gentle father. A killer. Szeth closed his eyes, hugging his knees, and listened.

“The Voice wanted this to continue,” Sivi said. “Surely that makes you wary, Pozen.”

“We almost had war,” Moss said. “Straight-up civil war.”

“What is his real game?” Sivi asked. “He could have stopped this at any point, but he didn’t. He let Szeth continue building momentum. If those soldiers hadn’t listened to Neturo …”

“My son gets confused sometimes,” Neturo said. “But he’s a good lad, with a heart stronger than any of us. I still don’t understand why I couldn’t talk to him about these plans. I’ll need a better reason than God gave last week, that’s for sure.”

He sounded … he sounded like he’d been part of this for a great long time. He’d known for years ?

But known what?

Hello, Szeth, the Voice said in his mind.

Szeth jumped. “Get out of my head,” he hissed.

No. Regardless of your tantrums, here we are, and you have proven to have no more backbone than your predecessor. I genuinely thought you’d strike Neturo down and start a revolution.

“My father?” Szeth said, pained. “You thought I’d kill my own father?”

Yes. The gods did it once. You seem of a similar air. Regardless, I’m going to have to do something to harden you. This land needs armies if we are to fight, and armies need generals who are actually acquainted with war.

“I don’t understand. And I don’t want to understand.”

You don’t need to, fortunately. Simply do as you are told. If you do not trust me, trust your father. Goodbye, Szeth. I’ll see you in a decade.

The Voice vanished. Szeth huddled down, and suddenly wondered if he’d somehow dreamed all of it. The others said they heard the Voice, but was he only imagining that they said those things? What if he couldn’t be trusted at all, in any way, to make his own decisions? What then?

“Truthless,” Pozen said.

Szeth caught the word. Truthless.

“There has to be another way,” Neturo said. “Truthless … that’s harsh, Pozen. Too harsh.”

“It is the right decision,” Pozen said. “He will learn humility in that station. And Neturo, he will be a threat to no one. Isn’t that what you want?”

“He must pay,” Vambra agreed. “If we don’t punish civil war, then what will we punish?”

“I suggest,” Gearil the Dustbringer said, “we declare here and now that the Voidbringers are never going to return. We need to push Truth to mean something else, something new, or we will have further problems like this.”

“Agreed,” Dulo the Edgedancer said. “And we must make an example of this man. He’s Truthless. If we don’t declare it, we will face other rebellions.”

“He’s just …” Neturo said. “He’s just confused …”

“Neturo,” Sivi said, her voice gentle, “you’ve known Truth since the day I let you touch the Bondsmith Blade. You saw the stones transform; you’ve seen the future; you spoke to God. You know what is coming.”

“You know there are no Voidbringers,” Pozen said. “The spirits of the stones themselves showed it to you. The former powers are no more. The Knights Radiant are fallen. We are all that remains, and we must focus on the true threat.”

“War,” Neturo whispered. “With other worlds.” His voice sounded stronger, and he joined the others as they strode back to the fire. Neturo took a deep breath. “Give up the sword, Szeth.”

In response, still seated, Szeth summoned it. He understood little of their conversation, and his mind was foggy, confused. Dazed. Yet …

No Voidbringers.

There were no Voidbringers?

No more Knights Radiant?

The spirits of the stones themselves promised it?

This Blade was the ultimate manifestation of his sin. He tossed it to the grass. Stones Unhallowed … he’d killed so many … He thought he heard the dead whispering in the night around him.

Pozen nodded, and a few soldiers took Szeth from behind, forcing him up to his knees, binding his wrists. As he struggled, his father put a hand on his shoulder, calming him.

“He gave up the Blade willingly,” Neturo said. “He allowed himself to be bound. There’s no need for harsh punishment.”

Szeth looked at the sky. That beautiful black infinity, broken by stars. He closed his eyes, ignoring the pain in his shoulder from having his hands tied. He felt the wind. There as always.

“They are correct, Father,” Szeth whispered. “I am Truthless. I must be.”

“Son?” Neturo asked.

“There are two options,” Szeth whispered. “Either I was right to attack you all, or I was wrong. If I am right, then I need to kill all of you here. Even you, Father.” Tears stained Szeth’s eyes as he gazed upward. “However, if there is no Voidbringer … then I’ve committed a terrible sin. You must name me Truthless. One or the other. Decide. For I will not.”

Silence, other than the teasing wind.

He never could trust in his own opinion, could he?

“So be it,” Neturo said softly.

Szeth closed his eyes. “What is the punishment for being Truthless?”

“An Oathstone,” Sivi said. “Banishment.”

“You will swear it?” Pozen asked. “To follow the way of the Oathstone?”

A stone. A stone would know better than he did, wouldn’t it? That would be … so, so very nice.

“I don’t want to decide anymore,” Szeth whispered. “I’m done. Give me the stone.”

Pozen reached into his pocket and brought out a small round rock. A simple one with a few quartz crystals and a rusty vein of iron on one side. He raised it up. “Before this Oathstone, before the spren, before your father. Promise to do whatever this stone’s holder demands of you, except the demand to kill yourself.”

“I make the Oathstone promise,” Szeth said. “I will follow what is said by the one who holds it, as you say.” He felt an immediate liberation at saying the words. No more choices.

Freedom.

They cut his bonds, and he stood, holding out his hand for the stone.

“Take his Blade,” Pozen said, waving. “Until we can …”

He trailed off, then looked toward the sky. They all did, even his father.

“What?” Szeth asked.

“The Voice says …” Sivi whispered, standing just to Szeth’s right. “He says you’re to keep it.”

“A Truthless with an Honorblade?” Father said. “That sounds incredibly dangerous.”

They all paused again, and shivered from whatever the Voice said. His father cursed and glanced at Szeth, then away, squeezing his eyes shut.

“He will be sent East,” Pozen said, pressing the Oathstone into Szeth’s hand. “We will give him to one of the Farmers to send off with a caravan. If God says to leave him the Blade … Well, add this to your vow: you may not give the Blade away. A stonewalker should never hold it.”

“I promise it,” Szeth whispered.

“Then may the stones guide you, Szeth-son-Neturo.”

“I’m Truthless,” Szeth said. “I do not deserve that name any longer.”

“Son,” Neturo said, turning back, weeping openly. “You’ll always deserve it.”

“I don’t decide that,” Szeth said, relaxing, loving that idea, “and neither do you. We merely do what we are told.”

“Szeth-son-son …” Pozen began.

“Vallano,” Neturo said, wiping his eyes, though tears kept flowing.

“Szeth-son-son-Vallano,” Pozen said, “for sins against Truth, you are banished. And may the Heralds protect those you are turned against.”

Szeth nodded.

It was done.

It was over.

His father, though, grabbed him in an embrace once more. “I can’t go with you this time, son.” It seemed to be breaking him. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I’ve failed you. I’m so, so sorry … my little boy …”

“Your little boy is dead, Neturo,” Szeth whispered. “You lost him years ago, that night when he killed.”

Soldiers pulled them apart, and left Neturo on the ground amid a patch of trodden-down grass. They hauled Szeth away. He was eventually sold to a stonewalker with curious eyebrows and far too colorful clothing.

From there, Szeth resolved not to look back.

And never to question.