Chapter 75

SIXTEEN YEARS AGO

T he day he was to leave on his pilgrimage to become an Honorbearer, Szeth spent the morning in the monastery’s rock garden. Today, Szeth would leave to go train with Sivi—then each of the Honorbearers in turn, learning their skills. Well, except for the Stoneward powers—they didn’t have the Blade of Talmut-son-God—and the Bondsmith powers. That Blade was held by a civil leader, and passed down through a different tradition.

Today Szeth prayed, bowing before a brilliant stone: two feet across with a crystal vein running through the center. It opened at one side like a mouth, the crystal forming teeth. The spren of this stone certainly seemed an ostentatious type.

“Spren,” he whispered. “In wisdom, please, guide me.”

Every important moment in his life had involved a stone, hadn’t it? Was this one looking back, as he gazed upon it? Hesitant, he reached out and put his hand on it, feeling the grain of the surface, jutting with little bits of clear crystal. Still such a strange sensation, like the skin of some beast.

For a moment he felt … memories. As if … this stone had come from another place, and remembered being carried … with a group of terrified people …

Is this you? he wondered. Are you the spren I follow?

Ah, Szeth, the Voice responded, and it had a different sensation, the memories vanishing. Don’t think I’ve been ignoring you. You’ve merely been in good hands. Complete your pilgrimage. Then we will meet.

“Thank you,” Szeth whispered.

Your life has purpose, Szeth. Everything that has happened to you, I orchestrated. You have meaning because your meaning is part of my meaning.

Those words.

Those words were what he needed: a reminder that his life was not an accident.

I warn you, the Voice said, this next part will be the most difficult. You go among some who do not regard me as highly as Pozen does. Do not lose your way.

At least he wouldn’t be alone. You will be with me, right? Szeth asked the Voice.

No response.

“Father plans to follow you, Szeth.”

He shook out of his meditation and became aware of a quiet stream, a latticework skylight filtering sunlight, and fronds sheltering a variety of stones. No one would dare interrupt his final meditation … except Elid.

Standing by the doorway was a lean woman who—like Szeth—had their mother’s wiry strength. He’d seen Elid some mornings, exercising and training to use the sword with the shamans on the riverbanks. In this city, all who touched stone were, if they wished, allowed to train in weapons with the shamans. He’d found it strange—or perhaps oddly encouraging—that here, fighters weren’t dismissed as “those who subtract.” Merely “those who touch stone.” It was the wrong way of things, but sometimes the wrong way could … sound better.

Indeed, Elid carried a small side sword—symbolizing her commitment to Truth.

“You are forbidden in the monastery, Elid,” he said, turning back to his contemplation of the rock.

“I’ve been thinking of joining up,” she said. “Been talking to some of the shamans. They told me I should look around.”

“Your efforts to circumvent propriety are, as always, awkward,” Szeth said. “Pretending you want to join simply so you can come bother me is inappropriate.”

“It worked.”

“I am supposed to be alone during this meditation.”

“Which means we can talk in private,” she said.

He sighed, contemplating fetching a shaman to throw her out.

“Did you even hear me?” she said. “Father is planning to go with you. Again. When you leave on pilgrimage.”

Szeth felt a sudden, deep sense of relief. He hadn’t thought … but of course. Neturo would do as he always had. While some young men would have acted embarrassed by the idea of their father traveling with them, Szeth did not need such lies.

“I did not consider that he would come,” Szeth said, “but I am not surprised. It has been his behavior in the past.”

“You need to tell him to stay,” Elid said.

“Why?”

She strode farther into the garden, not even pausing to offer prayer to the stones she passed. “Szeth! He’s built something here! He’s the mayor. ”

“A strange position,” Szeth said. “Why let men choose a leader, instead of trusting the spren? We didn’t do anything like that at home.”

“Because we were backwater sheepherders!”

He thought for a moment she’d stopped to reverence a stone, but no, she couldn’t be … Elid jumped over a section of garden from path to path to stand near Szeth. That woman …

“You can’t let him go with you, Szeth,” she said, looming above where he knelt on the soft, mossy soil, his hand still on the top of the stone. “Do the right thing—let him stay.”

“I don’t let or make him do anything, Elid.”

“You don’t say anything, but you imply a whole lot.”

“And you,” he said, “always like to make so many assumptions.” With a quiet prayer, he removed his hand from the stone, then stood up—trying to shelter the rock from her tantrum. “Maybe Father wants to go on pilgrimage. Maybe he wants to go live at the Willshaper monastery. Maybe he has … reasons.”

Elid gaped at him. “You know. ”

“About Father and Sivi? Yes. I deduced it.”

She gaped again, her eyes wide, jaw dropping.

“What?” he demanded.

“I just thought if you knew,” she said, “you’d spend every day preaching at him about his sinful state, Szeth. What, do you berate him during lunch when I’m not around?”

He blushed, then started to walk out of the rock garden. They could at least have this conversation somewhere less holy.

“You honestly don’t care?” she said, hurrying to keep up with him. “You don’t think what they’re doing is wrong?”

“ Mother left him, ” Szeth said.

“She might come back!”

He halted in place, causing Elid to lurch to a stop. He met her gaze, eye to eye, as they were roughly the same height.

“You,” she said, poking him in the chest, “will need to spend months at each monastery. If Father goes with you, then that will soon mean the end of him and Sivi.”

“So you’re in favor of their relationship?”

“I’m in favor of anything that doesn’t rip our family apart further.”

He met her eyes. “You could have gone back; you could have stayed with her.”

“And leave Father?” Elid said. In a moment, her confidence seemed to evaporate as she wrapped her arms around herself. “I miss her. Do you?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“I used to feel sorry for you,” Elid said. “Used to want to protect you, like Father. But … then she left us …” She shook her head. “That broke Father. You know how many nights I spent holding his hand while he cried? You weren’t there, Szeth. I was.”

“I know.”

But there was a reason. The Voice. Szeth walked a purposeful path. He had to believe it.

“Well, I’m not going to go with you this time,” Elid snapped. “ I’m not going to spend the rest of my life pretending you’re a lost child. If you have any kind of decency, you’ll tell Father to stay so you don’t keep ruining his life either.”

Szeth stepped around her. He quickly bowed his head to each stone as he walked, his emotions in turmoil.

“Do you know why?” Elid called after him. “Why he’s always willing to follow you? Why he doesn’t care about me as much as he does you? Why are you his favorite?”

Szeth bowed his head again, this time not out of reverence. He reached the doorway.

“I hate you,” Elid called after him. “I hate you, Szeth!”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “for not knowing a better way.”

He left his sister behind then. Taking only a change of clothing and his sword as he left the monastery.

It was raining by the time Szeth reached the bridge. He walked alone, by tradition … but not by law. So it wasn’t strictly against any rules for Neturo to meet him there. Pack slung over his shoulder, his beard now streaked with grey. Heavyset, with no splash, but smiling.

How could he smile? Szeth felt he’d lost the capacity years ago.

“Thought you could sneak away without me?” Neturo asked.

Szeth took a deep breath and spoke the words he’d needed to go over a hundred times in his head during this walk. “Please stay behind, Father.”

Neturo considered, rain streaming off his umbrella. Szeth had brought none. It was a light rainfall; he would merely need to care for the sword when he found shelter for the night.

“Is that what you want, Szeth?” Neturo asked. “Or is it what you think you should want?”

“You have a life here,” Szeth said.

“I have a life wherever my family is.”

“Your family is here too!” Szeth said. “With Elid. Or back home, with Mother. Who left because of me …”

Father dropped the umbrella and seized him in an embrace. Szeth held in the tears, although they would have been invisible in the rain. He did not wish to offend the spren by acting as if a pilgrimage were a sad occasion.

“Szeth,” Father whispered to the sound of splashing rain, “what happened between your mother and me was not your fault. We were struggling long before you found that stone.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“That could have been my fault too, though. It had to be hard, living with a boy who didn’t know what is right.”

Father held tighter. “Son. It was never you. I took your mother from her family and persuaded her to question things that others never dare. For that, we were forced to live outside, as no one would rent to us. I have letters from her sisters. She’s happy, Szeth. Happier without me.”

That sounded insane, but there it was. Szeth did not question whether it was the truth, if his father had spoken it.

“You should still stay with Elid,” Szeth whispered.

“Elid hates me, Szeth.”

“What? No! She loves you.”

“That’s not what she says,” Neturo said softly. “I don’t know how to deal with her. I never have. I try to talk to her, and she walks away. I bring her gifts, and she accuses me of trying to bribe her.” Neturo took a deep breath. “I think that … space will do us good. I’ll come back later, and see if she’s cooled off.” He pulled away from the embrace, and kept on smiling through the water streaming down his face. “I don’t want you to think you have to care for your old father. But I’ll go with you, Szeth, so you don’t have to go by yourself. It’s the only way I know how to help.”

“Thank you,” Szeth whispered. “ Thank you. ”