Chapter 8

Her memory was keen, but her interpretation and explanation of that memory could be fanciful. Those days, though, I believe that she was deliberate, concerned, and focused.

She did not see the future.

But she somehow knew it anyway.

—From Knights of Wind and Truth , page 5

K aladin found Szeth standing in the antechamber, his strange Shardblade sheathed and tied across his back. He appeared to be staring at the wall.

“All right,” Kaladin said. “Easiest way for us to get to Shinovar is to fly with the highstorm after it passes Azimir later tonight.”

“As you wish,” Szeth said.

“I’m going to pick up my rucksack,” Kaladin said. “Do you need anything?”

“No.”

Oh! A voice popped into Kaladin’s head. He’d always construed it as vaguely masculine. Are we going somewhere?

“Haven’t you paid attention, sword-nimi?” Szeth asked calmly, still staring at the wall.

Of course I have! the strange Shardblade replied. But where are we going?

“To Shinovar,” Kaladin said.

Will there be snacks? the sword asked. I’m supposed to ask if there will be snacks anytime we go somewhere.

“Who told you that?” Szeth asked.

Lift. She says it’s important. I don’t think I can eat snacks—maybe cut them up though? But if it’s important that they be there, I want to know.

“I’ll bring snacks,” Kaladin said. “Szeth, let’s meet at the Oathgate in two hours. All right?”

Szeth nodded.

Kaladin collected Syl and his armor spren, who were once again hovering in the room where Navani was taking meetings. Then he leaped over the banister and dropped almost the entire length of the tower before swooping into a corridor along which people were accustomed to seeing Radiants fly overhead. The Wind went with him.

They landed by the tower’s Windrunner barracks and made their way to the quartermaster’s office. Leyten, a heavyset man with short, curly light-brown hair, was doing his usual puttering with ledgers and accounts. Far too fond of numbers, that one was, for all his skill as an armorer.

“Ah!” Leyten said, straightening and throwing him a Bridge Four salute. “Got your things right here.” He disappeared into a rear room, then came out with a travel rucksack, no fewer than three canteens strapped to it.

“Bedroll,” Leyten said, “rations, medical kit, mess kit. Two extra uniforms.” He winked at Kaladin.

“Thanks, Leyten.” Kaladin turned the pack around on the counter, and noted the side pocket for personal effects. He unzipped it and found Wit’s flute: carved from dark wood, with some odd knobs partitioning it. Kaladin had sent it down with his other items, because nobody could pack for a ruck like Leyten. Kaladin always felt uncertain unpacking for the night, as he never knew if he’d be able to magic it all back together in a similarly tight and efficient way. In that same pocket was Tien’s small toy horse, along with … a rock?

Yes, a rock. Dull brown. Huh.

“Oh, sorry!” Leyten said. “I didn’t put that in there.” He reached for it, but Kaladin slipped it back in.

As Leyten was showing him how to snap apart and reassemble the new mess kit design, Dabbid came out of the rear room carrying some supplies. He gave Kaladin a farewell hug, then continued on his way, whistling to himself. And behind him, darting with a furtive air, was a small windspren?

No, an honorspren. Kaladin froze.

“Yeah,” Leyten said, grinning, “Dabbid hasn’t noticed her yet.”

“I thought there weren’t any more honorspren coming to us.”

“It must have to do with Prince Adolin’s trip,” Leyten said, with a shrug. “She showed up yesterday, alone, and she’s been trailing Dabbid ever since.”

Syl frowned, still full sized and visible to all. He thought he heard her huff.

“What?” Kaladin asked.

“Lusintia,” Syl said. “She’s an absolute bore. No fun at all. I didn’t expect her to join us.”

“Ethenia likes her,” Leyten said.

“Ethenia is a bore too,” Syl said. “She likes numbers, almost as much as Vienta does. And she’s practically a Cryptic.” But then she cocked her head. “Maybe I need to rethink some things. Can I note how horribly unfair it is that these newer spren make the transition so quickly? I was essentially a drooling idiot for years.”

“The bonds form faster,” Leyten said, “because the way was paved by a brilliant, very brave spren pioneer.”

Syl pulsed, her color becoming more blue, the violet on her sleeves more vibrant. “I’ve always liked you, Leyten. Even when you were making armor out of skulls.”

“Used more ribs than skulls,” Leyten said, glancing up at something hanging above the doorway to the quartermaster’s office. A breastplate seemingly fashioned out of pieces of carapace and bone. Out of respect for Rlain, they’d used wood for this one, and painted it red-orange. Kaladin remembered running with Bridge Four toward the enemy, wearing that improvised equipment, whispers around camp calling them silly things like the Order of Bone.

“Rlain and now Dabbid,” Kaladin said. “Did any of the other squires pick up one while I wasn’t looking?”

“Probably a better question for Skar,” Leyten said, bringing out a bag of gemstones for Kaladin. He gestured into the next room. “He’s been working with the new recruits.”

Kaladin should have continued on his way. Sigzil commanded the Windrunners, and could worry about these questions. But Kaladin felt responsible, even if he no longer was. Beyond that, there was something in the air. That Wind blowing from behind him, that phantom warning echoing in his mind. He wanted to check in one last time, to see that everything was all right with his troops.

For a storm was coming.

Shallan screamed, twisting in the air, still flying—yet helpless as the Windrunners clashed with a group of Heavenly Ones. In a moment, their peaceful trip turned chaotic. Blue uniforms zipped past, weaving among Fused with flowing outfits of stark white, black, and red.

All Shallan could do was hang there. She waved her arms, flailed about, but couldn’t do more than turn over onto her back. There was nothing for her to grab onto or pull against. Adolin was slightly better off. They’d Lashed him in such a way that he could sit in the saddle—floating, but not completely weightless. He was able to whip out a sword and stand up in his stirrups to swing at a Heavenly One as they passed.

She counted eight Heavenly Ones, bad odds for the five Windrunners, who had to protect their charges. She had no idea why there was a Heavenly One patrol over this ocean—she saw nothing here except the rolling beads some thirty feet below and a little strip of barren land marking a river in the Physical Realm.

Regardless, they were in trouble. A Heavenly One wielding a long lance ran one of Drehy’s squires straight through, sending a spray of blood across Shallan. A distant painspren howled, and the squire gasped, dropping her spear, arms out to the sides as the lance began to traumatically drain her Stormlight.

Shallan breathed in Stormlight, frantic for a way to help, trying to devise a proper illusion. A second later, a thrown knife cut the Heavenly One across the face. Then a mace struck the creature square in the forehead. Shallan glanced at Adolin, who had opened one of his weapon boxes and was fishing out a short sword. He threw this next. Storms. He’d had a mace in there all along?

The weapons weren’t designed for throwing, but after being hit with another knife, the Heavenly One was forced to pull her lance free of the unfortunate squire and go after Adolin instead.

“Adolin!” Shallan cried as he twisted in the saddle to swipe at the enemy he’d engaged. The Heavenly One did a quick spin around him, then came in with her lance—which she rammed straight through the illusory version of Adolin that Shallan created as a distraction.

It wasn’t perfect. Shallan didn’t have many sketches of Gallant, and so the horse was off—but her doppelganger of Adolin was flawless. The Heavenly One, while turning, had lost track of the real him. She glanced at Shallan, identified the correct Adolin—and ducked underneath the horse.

To rise on the other side and barrel into Adolin.

Adolin was sent tumbling free, swords falling around him, the saddle knocked askew. He fell slowly because of his Lashing. Shallan’s next Lightweaving—of a Windrunner coming for the Heavenly One—distracted the attacker from chasing Adolin. But Shallan’s eyes followed Adolin as he fell thirty feet and crashed into the beads. He’d suffocate down there.

Shallan screamed, struggling as the Lashing carried her away from him.

No. No. No!

Shallan … Shallan had been Lashed by Drehy.

Be. Drehy.

She sucked up the Stormlight Lashing her in place. Then, with nothing holding her up, she dropped to the beads after Adolin.