text stringlengths 1.73k 3.83k |
|---|
It was like watching an explosion in slow motion again. Waxillium raised his Sterrion, and found his arm incredibly still. It had been still on the day he’d shot Lessie, too. He’d shot her with this very gun. Sweating, trying to banish the images from his head, he tried to find a clear shot at Tarson. There wasn’t one.... |
face again. This hit barely bothered him, and the half-naked man lurched forward. Toward Marasi. Miles was unarmed, but there was murder in his eyes. Wax dashed forward, throwing the empty gun at Miles, then fishing out a handful of bullets. He Pushed them toward the 1former lawman. One sliced him in the arm, one cut t... |
difficult to brawl with a man who didn’t flinch when you hit him. Another punch sent Wax to the ground again, head ringing, eyes seeing stars and flashes of light. Miles leaned down, speaking in his ear. “Thing is, Waxillium, I know you feel it too. A part of you knows that you’re being used, that nobody cares about th... |
of things. A lowly bullet can end the life of the most powerful, most capable, most secure of men.” “Not me,” Miles said. “Bullets are nothing to me.” “No,” she replied. “You’ll be brought down by something even more lowly.” “Which is?” he asked, amused, voice growing closer. “Me,” Marasi replied. Miles laughed. “I’d l... |
the constables pulling a gag over his mouth as he was tied tightly. “The more alone you are,” Waxillium said softly, “the more important it is to have someone you can rely upon.” 20 “The constable-general has decided not to charge your associate for impersonating an officer of the law,” Reddi said. Waxillium dabbed at ... |
was as stiff-backed as before, constable’s hat carried under his arm. “Lord Waxillium,” he said in a monotone. “Constable-General.” “For your efforts today, I have requested that the Senate give you a citywide deputized forbearance.” Waxillium blinked in surprise. “If you are not aware,” Brettin continued, “this would ... |
head. “Nothing. Maybe Miles will know where they are.” If he’ll talk, Waxillium thought. Miles had stopped feeling pain long ago. Waxillium wasn’t certain how anyone would go about interrogating him. Waxillium felt that by not rescuing the other women, he had failed in large measure. He’d vowed to get Steris back, and ... |
evenly. “And, considering the self-indulgences of some men I’ve known, this wouldn’t be problematic by comparison.” She leaned forward. “In short, my lord, I see you for what you are. The two of us, we are beyond the points in our lives where expecting the other to change would be realistic. I will accept this about yo... |
to the restraining pole. He’d shown that same expression through most of the trial—the first one she’d helped prosecute as an attorney, though Daius had been the lead on the case. The trial had gone quickly, despite its high-profile and high-stakes nature. Miles had not denied his crimes. It seemed that he saw himself ... |
the welling of emotion. He’d thought her dead in the wreck that supposedly claimed his uncle’s life, but had dealt with his emotions, such as they were. It had been years since he’d seen his sister. Why, then, was finding out that she lived so powerfully meaningful to him? He couldn’t even define which emotions he was ... |
is no proof of that. Just speculation on your part. A few of the Vanishers will swear to their graves that Miles raped and killed the women. I know for a fact that one of those Vanishers survived. Though I am still curious how you found me here, in this particular train.” Waxillium made no reply to that specifically. “... |
time, he realized. While someone stole the horses. It wasn’t about robberies, or even kidnappings. It was insurance fraud. “We needed only the temporary disappearance of goods,” Edwarn said. “And everything has worked out perfectly. Thank you.” * * * The bullets ripped through Miles’s body. Marasi watched, holding her ... |
collar, then began to dine. “But you are not ready. I will see that you are sent the proper information. For now, you may withdraw and consider what I’ve told you.” “I don’t think so,” Waxillium said, reaching into his jacket for a handgun. Ladrian looked up with a pitying expression. Waxillium heard guns being cocked,... |
the skin marring the tattoos. Marasi knew this creature from mythology, but seeing him left her cold, terrified. “Ironeyes,” she whispered. “I apologize for bringing you like this,” Ironeyes said. He had a quiet, gravelly voice. “Like this?” she said, her voice coming out as almost a squeak. “With emotional Allomancy. ... |
staring to the south. Toward the city, and his uncle. âœtâ™ a pretty good book,âWayne said, flipping a page. âœou should try it. Itâ™ about bunnies. They talk. Damnedest thing ever.â/p> Waxillium didnâ™ reply. âœo, was it your uncle?âWayne asked. âœes.â/p> âœrud. I owe you a fiver, then.â/p> âœhe bet was for twent... |
can be used to shield an individual from emotional Allomancy. BENDALLOY: Slider Mistings burn bendalloy to compress time in a bubble around themselves, making it pass more quickly within the bubble. This causes events outside the bubble to move at a glacial pace from the point of view of the Slider. Subsumer Ferrings c... |
a vision of possible paths their future could take. This is usually limited to a few seconds. Pinnacle Ferrings can store determination in an electrum metalmind, entering a depressed state during active storage, and can tap it at a later time to enter a manic phase. GOLD: Augur Mistings burn gold to see a vision of a p... |
end-positive, according to my terminology, meaning that the practitioner draws in power from an external source. The body then filters it into various forms. (The actual outlet of the power is not chosen by the practitioner, but instead is hardwritten into their Spiritweb.) The key to drawing this power comes in the fo... |
me. If one of these three arts is of great interest to the Cosmere, it is this one. I think there are great possibilities for its use. TOR BOOKS BY BRANDON SANDERSON THE STORMLIGHT ARCHIVE The Way of Kings Warbreaker THE MISTBORN TRILOGY Mistborn The Well of Ascension The Hero of Ages Elantris A Tor eBook Published by ... |
much editing these days outside of the Wheel of Time, and so I feel very honored and humbled to have her input and help here. Alan Romanczuk, working with her, should also be thanked for facilitating this edit. At Tor Books, Paul Stevens has been a huge help. He’s been our in-house liaison for my books, and he’s done a... |
him a block of cheese. I would also be remiss if I didn’t thank Tom Doherty for letting me get away with writing this book. It’s because of Tom’s belief in this project that we were able to get away with the novel being so long, and a personal call from Tom was what managed to get Michael Whelan to do the cover. Tom ha... |
stone ridges and mounds bore numerous scars. Some were shattered, blasted-out sections where Surgebinders had fought. Less frequently, he passed cracked, oddly shaped hollows where thunderclasts had ripped themselves free of the stone to join the fray. Many of the bodies around him were human; many were not. Blood mixe... |
When had he become so weak? “Jezrien, I can’t return this time.” Kalak whispered the words, stepping up and gripping the other man’s arm. “I can’t.” Kalak felt something within him break at the admission. How long had it been? Centuries, perhaps millennia, of torture. It was so hard to keep track. Those fires, those ho... |
people, Jezrien?” Kalak asked. “What will they say of this day?” “It’s simple,” Jezrien said, walking away. “We tell them that they finally won. It’s an easy enough lie. Who knows? Maybe it will turn out to be true.” Kalak watched Jezrien depart across the burned landscape. Finally, he summoned his own Blade and slamme... |
king’s daughter? Elhokar, the king’s son and heir, sat at the high table, ruling the feast in his father’s absence. He was in conversation with two men, a dark-skinned Azish man who had an odd patch of pale skin on his cheek and a thinner, Alethi-looking man who kept glancing over his shoulder. The heir’s feasting comp... |
Why had Shalash’s statue been removed? King Gavilar was said to be very devout in his Vorin worship. Too devout, by some people’s standards. The hallway here curved to the right, running around the perimeter of the domed palace. They were on the king’s floor, two levels up, surrounded by rock walls, ceiling, and floor.... |
the Stormlight. He could still feel it leaking out. Stormlight could be held for only a short time, a few minutes at most. It leaked away, the human body too porous a container. He had heard that the Voidbringers could hold it in perfectly. But, then, did they even exist? His punishment declared that they didn’t. His h... |
out, carving a line in the stone floor and passing through the second guard’s neck. As always, the Shardblade killed oddly; though it cut easily through stone, steel, or anything inanimate, the metal fuzzed when it touched living skin. It traveled through the guard’s neck without leaving a mark, but once it did, the ma... |
muscles bursting with energy. Light became a storm inside of him; his blood thundered in his ears. It was terrible and wonderful at the same time. Two corridors down, one to the side. He threw open the door of a storage room, then hesitated a moment—just long enough for a guard to round the corner and see him—before da... |
chambers. Tall, red ceramic vases lined the pathway, and they were interspersed with nervous soldiers. They flanked a long, narrow rug. It was red, like a river of blood. The spearmen in front didn’t wait for him to get close. They broke into a trot, lifting their short throwing spears. Szeth slammed his hand to the si... |
to fight nightmares were turned against common soldiers, the lives of men became cheap things indeed. Szeth turned and continued on his way, slippered feet falling on the soft red rug. The Shardblade, as always, glistened silver and clean. When one killed with a Blade, there was no blood. That seemed like a sign. The S... |
going down on one knee, letting Szeth’s Blade cleave empty air. Szeth leaped backward as the Shardbearer swung upward with his Blade, slicing into the ceiling. Szeth didn’t own a set of Plate himself, and didn’t care to. His Lashings interfered with the gemstones that powered Shardplate, and he had to choose one or the... |
a Stormlight-enhanced kick. The heavy Shardbearer crashed into the door of the king’s quarters, smashing it and falling partway into the room beyond. Szeth left him, ducking instead through the doorway to the right, following the way the king had gone. The hallway here had the same red carpet, and Stormlight lamps on t... |
Lashings in a row. Stormlight flashed out of him, clothing freezing, as he was pulled toward the king at twice the speed of a normal fall. The king’s posture indicated surprise as Szeth lurched in midair, then spun toward him, swinging. He slammed his Blade into the king’s helm, then immediately Lashed himself to the c... |
the wall and rolled. The balcony dropped away, the king looking up with shock as he lost his footing. The fall was brief. In the moonlight, Szeth watched solemnly—vision still fuzzy, blinded in one eye—as the structure crashed to the stone ground below. The wall of the palace trembled, and the crash of broken wood echo... |
Szeth needed to go. But… Tell my brother… To Szeth’s people, a dying request was sacred. He took the king’s hand, dipping it in the man’s own blood, then used it to scrawl on the wood, Brother. You must find the most important words a man can say. With that, Szeth escaped into the night. He left the king’s Shardblade; ... |
lining up—thousands of them. Cenn was right at the front, with Kaladin’s squad of about thirty other men. Why had Cenn been moved to a new squad at the last moment? It had something to do with camp politics. Why was this squad at the very front, where casualties were bound to be the greatest? Small fearspren—like globs... |
what they were looking at. “Looks good.” “The rest of you louts hear that?” Dallet shouted. The men raised their spears high. “Keep an eye on the new boy, Dallet,” Kaladin said. “He won’t know the signs.” “Of course,” Dallet said, smiling. Smiling! How could the man smile? The enemy army was blowing horns. Did that mea... |
broke into a dash, running out into the front at full speed. Cenn scrambled to keep up, panicked and terrified. The ground wasn’t as smooth as it had seemed, and he nearly tripped on a hidden rockbud, vines withdrawn into its shell. He righted himself and kept going, holding his spear in one hand, his shield clapping a... |
air as squads engaged one another. A group of enemy spearmen rushed up to Kaladin’s squad, perhaps coveting the higher ground. The three dozen attackers had some cohesion, though they weren’t in as tight a formation as Kaladin’s squad was. The enemy seemed determined to make up for it in passion; they bellowed and scre... |
plate on Kaladin’s shield was clear. Each time they changed formations, Dallet grabbed Cenn by the shoulder and steered him. Kaladin’s team didn’t chase down stragglers. They remained on the defensive. And, while several of the men in Kaladin’s team took wounds, none of them fell. Their squad was too intimidating for t... |
He fell to rocky ground, splashing in someone else’s blood. His foe raised a spear high, a looming silhouette against the stark blue sky, ready to ram it into Cenn’s heart. And then he was there. Squadleader. Stormblessed. Kaladin’s spear came as if out of nowhere, narrowly deflecting the blow that was to have killed C... |
Cenn’s mother would display when someone mentioned Kusiri, who had run off with the cobbler’s son. “Sir?” Dallet said hesitantly. “Subsquads Two and Three, pincer pattern,” Kaladin said, his voice hard. “We’re taking a brightlord off his throne.” “You sure that’s wise, sir? We’ve got wounded.” Kaladin turned toward Dal... |
the blood loss. Why point out the bound leg? It was a simple thing. Dallet just nodded. “He knows a lot about wounds. He can read glyphs too. He’s a strange man, for a lowly darkeyed spearman, our squadleader is.” He turned to Cenn. “But you should save your strength, son. The squadleader won’t be pleased if we lose yo... |
again. The sludgy grey slop was made from overcooked tallew grain, and this batch was flecked with crusted bits of yesterday’s meal. Revolting though it was, it was all he would get. He began to eat, legs hanging out between the bars, watching the scenery pass. The other slaves in his cage clutched their bowls protecti... |
not be banished easily, so Kaladin watched that hand. “I heard the guards talking,” the slave continued, shuffling a little closer. He had a twitch that made him blink too frequently. “You’ve tried to escape before, they said. You have escaped before.” Kaladin made no reply. “Look,” the slave said, moving his hand out ... |
It was a different man this time, though. He had a long black beard stuck with bits of food and snarled with dirt. Kaladin kept his own beard shorter, allowing Tvlakv’s mercenaries to hack it down periodically. Like Kaladin, the slave wore the remains of a brown sack tied with a rag, and he was darkeyed, of course—perh... |
skin around the scar faded to white. What was that glyphpair? “Sas morom,” Kaladin said. It was the highlord’s district where the man had originally been branded. The man looked up with shock. “Hey! You know glyphs?” Several of the slaves nearby stirred at this oddity. “You must have an even better story than I thought... |
the streaks of blood that trickled from the cracks; his right forearm was smeared with it. If he’d had a mirror, he could probably have spotted tiny red rotspren gathering around the wound. The sun set in the west, but the wagons kept rolling. Violet Salas peeked over the horizon to the east, seeming hesitant at first,... |
of the floor near Kaladin. She climbed up and into the wagon, as if scaling some high plateau. The windspren had taken the shape of a young woman—larger spren could change shapes and sizes—with an angular face and long, flowing hair that faded into mist behind her head. She—Kaladin couldn’t help but think of the windsp... |
Kaladin thought. Seeing things that aren’t there. Hearing voices. He took a deep breath, then opened his hand. His grip had cracked and broken the leaves. He’d need to tuck them away to prevent further— “Those leaves look interesting,” said that same feminine voice. “You like them a lot, don’t you?” Kaladin jumped, twi... |
he mad? Perhaps he should wish for that—madness was an escape from the pain. Instead, it terrified him. He opened his eyes. Tvlakv was finally waddling up to Kaladin’s wagon with his bucket of water. The portly, brown-eyed man walked with a very faint limp; the result of a broken leg, perhaps. He was Thaylen, and all T... |
small cage, bare feet thumping on the wood. Bluth glared as Kaladin knelt beside the sick man. The flickering light illuminated a long, drawn face and nearly bloodless lips. The man had coughed up phlegm; it was greenish and solid. Kaladin felt the man’s neck for swelling, then checked his dark brown eyes. “It’s called... |
him. Then, leisurely, the slaver walked over, straightening his deep blue knit cap. “He would have gotten you all sick, you see.” His voice was lightly accented, smashing words together, not giving the proper syllables emphasis. Thaylens always sounded to Kaladin like they were mumbling. “I would not lose an entire wag... |
oranges most often, but occasional blues and yellows too. She could hear the bells already, tinkling in the wind, ringing with pure voices. She had to strain her neck to look up toward the city’s loftiest rim; Kharbranth was like a mountain towering over her. How many people lived in a place like this? Thousands? Tens ... |
the docks, carrying cargo on their backs. Like the parshmen her father had owned, these were stout and thick of limb, with their odd marbled skin—some parts pale or black, others a deep crimson. The mottled pattern was unique to each individual. After chasing Jasnah Kholin from town to town for the better part of six m... |
a traveling ardent. She’d often fabricated silly versions of conversations to fill the mouths of people they could see, but not hear. That had established in her what her nurses had referred to as an “insolent streak.” And the sailors were even more appreciative of a witty comment than her brothers had been. “Well,” Sh... |
if overstated, mark of affection. She was pale-skinned in an era when Alethi tan was seen as the mark of true beauty, and though she had light blue eyes, her impure family line was manifest in her auburn-red hair. Not a single lock of proper black. Her freckles had faded as she reached young womanhood—Heralds be blesse... |
flowing skirt below. It was blue silk with chull-shell buttons up the sides, and she carried her satchel by pressing it to her chest with her safehand while holding the railing with her freehand. She stepped off the gangplank into the furious activity of the docks, messengers running this way and that, women in red coa... |
the porter in that same clipped language, and the man responded. “The long way gives a good view of the city,” Yalb said. “The short way goes straight up to the Conclave. Not many good views, he says. I guess he noticed you were new to the city.” “Do I stand out that much?” Shallan asked, flushing. “Eh, no, of course n... |
journey had taught her new scents, of brine and clean sea air. There was nothing clean in what she smelled here. Each passing alleyway had its own unique array of revolting stenches. These alternated with the spicy scents of street vendors and their foods, and the juxtaposition was even more nauseating. Fortunately, he... |
ask for five.” Before this trip, she’d never used money; she’d just admired the spheres for their beauty. Each one was composed of a glass bead a little larger than a person’s thumbnail with a much smaller gemstone set at the center. The gemstones could absorb Stormlight, and that made the spheres glow. When she opened... |
outdoors. This place—with its bustling servants, its lesser brightlords and brightladies—was familiar. She raised her freehand in a sign of need, and sure enough, a master-servant in a crisp white shirt and black trousers hurried over to her. “Brightness?” he asked, speaking her native Veden, likely because of the colo... |
a master scholar if it weren’t for her vocal denunciations of religion. Most specifically, she denounced the devotaries, the various religious congregations that proper Vorin people joined. Improper quips would not serve Shallan well here. She would have to be proper. Wardship to a woman of great renown was the best wa... |
up blood. A futile, delusional attempt at escape. The wagon continued to roll. The same routine each day. Wake up sore and aching from a fitful night spent without mattress or blanket. One wagon at a time, the slaves were let out and hobbled with leg irons and given time to shuffle around and relieve themselves. Then t... |
in the army to get more than a halfhearted pinch from one. Bluth and Tag climbed down from their wagons and walked up to meet Tvlakv. The slavemaster stood on his wagon’s seat, shading his eyes against the white sunlight and holding a sheet of paper in his hand. An argument ensued. Tvlakv kept waving in the direction t... |
you see?” “I don’t want vengeance,” Kaladin said. The windspren came back—she’d darted off for a time to inspect one of the strange shrubs. She landed in the air and began walking around Tvlakv’s face, inspecting him. He didn’t seem to be able to see her. Tvlakv frowned. “No vengeance?” “It doesn’t work,” Kaladin said.... |
dishonesty.” “Nothing besides a headache for you.” “But you just said you have no desire for vengeance against me.” “I could learn.” Tvlakv laughed. “Ah, if you have not learned that already, then you probably never will! Besides, did you not threaten to throw me off a cliff? I think you have learned already. But now, ... |
things that walked the storms. In the army, he’d been forced to weather a highstorm or two beneath the lip of a protective stone overhang or other bit of impromptu shelter. Nobody liked to be out during a storm, but sometimes you couldn’t avoid it. The things that walked the storms—perhaps even the Stormfather himself—... |
the landscape. Over the last few days, the hills had given way to uneven rock formations—places where weathering winds had left behind crumbling cliffs and jagged shapes. Grass grew up the rocky sides that saw the most sun, and other plants were plentiful in the shade. The time right after a highstorm was when the land... |
once had, and so he’d stopped letting her presence annoy him. “There are others near,” she said. “Others like you.” “Slaves?” “I don’t know. People. Not the ones here. Other ones.” “Where?” She turned a translucent white finger, pointing eastward. “There. Many of them. Lots and lots.” Kaladin stood up. He couldn’t imag... |
here. To war. This place would be subject to Alethi law and rules. He’d expected that Tvlakv would want to avoid such things. But here, he’d probably also find the best prices. “The Shattered Plains?” one of the slaves said. “Really?” Others crowded around, peering out. In their sudden excitement, they seemed to forget... |
around a small, scroll-shaped golden ornament with two long hairpins holding it in place. The rest tumbled down behind her neck in small, tight curls. Even twisted and curled as it was, it came down to Jasnah’s shoulders—if left unbound, it would be as long as Shallan’s hair, reaching past the middle of her back. She h... |
Those gemstones on his fingers, the way he carried himself, the way other lighteyed attendants deferred to him…Stormfather! Shallan thought. This has to be the king himself! Not Jasnah’s brother, Elhokar, but the king of Kharbranth. Taravangian. Shallan hastily performed an appropriate curtsy, which Jasnah noted. “The ... |
truthfully and do not exaggerate, as I will soon discover your lies. Feign no false modesty, either. I haven’t the patience for a simperer.” “Yes, Brightness.” “We shall begin with music. How would you judge your skill?” “I have a good ear, Brightness,” Shallan said honestly. “I’m best with voice, though I have been tr... |
best.” “I apologize, Brightness.” “This is an embarrassing hole. History is the most important of the literary subarts. One would think that your parents would have taken specific care in this area, if they’d hoped to submit you to study under a historian like myself.” “My circumstances are unusual, Brightness.” “Ignor... |
be your ward. I took this initiative upon myself.” “My condolences,” Jasnah said. “Perhaps you should be with your father, seeing to his estates and comforting him, rather than wasting my time.” The men walking ahead turned down another side passage. Jasnah and Shallan followed, entering a smaller corridor with an orna... |
“If only we had a Shardblade—” Jasnah cut him off with a wave of the hand. “I was not seeking to renegotiate our bargain, Your Majesty. Access to the Palanaeum is worth the cost. You will want to send someone for wet rags. Have the majority of the servants move down to the other end of the hallway. You may wish to wait... |
scene to memory. For a long, extended moment, nothing happened. And then, briefly, Shallan heard a sound. A low thrumming, like a distant group of voices, humming together a single, pure note. Jasnah’s hand sank into the rock. The stone vanished. A burst of dense black smoke exploded into the hallway. Enough to blind S... |
of them all. I brought my portfolio. I would show you what I can do.” Jasnah pursed her lips. “The visual arts are frivolity. I have weighed the facts, child, and I cannot accept you. I’m sorry.” Shallan’s heart sank. “Your Majesty,” Jasnah said to the king, “I would like to go to the Palanaeum.” “Now?” the king said, ... |
had a disorderly look. They weren’t dirty, but they didn’t seem particularly disciplined either. They roamed the camp in packs with coats undone. Some pointed and jeered at the slaves. This was the army of a highprince? The elite force that fought for Alethkar’s honor? This was what Kaladin had aspired to join? Bluth a... |
Kaladin. “Here now. This is far better stock than the others.” “I thought that you might like this one,” Tvlakv said, stepping up to her. “He is quite—” She raised the rod and silenced Tvlakv. She had a small sore on one lip. Some ground cussweed root could help with that. “Remove your top, slave,” she commanded. Kalad... |
lead rebellions against his masters. I couldn’t sell him to you as a bonded soldier. My conscience, it would not allow it.” He hesitated. “The men in his wagon, he might have corrupted them all with talk of escape. My honor demands that I tell you this.” Kaladin gritted his teeth. He was tempted to try to take down the... |
a tower and a hammer on a field of deep green. That was the banner of Highprince Sadeas, ultimate ruler of Kaladin’s own home district. Was it irony or fate that had landed Kaladin here? Soldiers lounged idly, even those who appeared to be on duty, and the camp streets were littered with refuse. Camp followers were ple... |
“These spindly things?” Gaz said, chewing on something as he walked over. “They’ll barely stop an arrow.” The soldier beside Kaladin shrugged, shoving him forward once more for good measure. “Brightness Hashal said to do something special with this one. The rest are up to you.” The soldier nodded to his companions, and... |
bridge crews were gathering at this point. Gaz had found himself a wooden shield and a gleaming mace, but there were none for anyone else. He quickly inspected each team. He stopped beside Bridge Four and hesitated. “Where’s your bridgeleader?” he demanded. “Dead,” one of the bridgemen said. “Tossed himself down the Ho... |
and out deeply,” said the muffled voice. “Focus on the steps. Count them. It helps.” Kaladin followed the advice. He could hear other bridge crews running nearby. Behind them came the familiar sounds of men marching and hoofbeats on the stone. They were being followed by an army. Below, rockbuds and small shalebark rid... |
chasm lacking a permanent bridge. To the sides, the other bridge crews were pushing their own bridges forward. Kaladin glanced over his shoulder. The army was two thousand men in forest green and pure white. Twelve hundred darkeyed spearmen, several hundred cavalry atop rare, precious horses. Behind them, a large group... |
epoch, a time when gods had walked Roshar. “Is that the king?” Kaladin asked. The leathery bridgeman laughed tiredly. “We could only wish.” Kaladin turned toward him, frowning. “If that were the king,” the bridgeman said, “then that would mean we were in Brightlord Dalinar’s army.” The name was vaguely familiar to Kala... |
to stand again. But when Gaz called for them to rise, Kaladin somehow struggled to his feet. It was either that or let Gaz win. Why were they going through all of this? What was the point? Why were they running so much? They had to protect their bridge, the precious weight, the cargo. They had to hold up the sky and ru... |
the other side of the rift stood a rank of men with marbled crimson and black skin. They were wearing a strange rusty orange armor that covered their forearms, chests, heads, and legs. It took his numbed mind a moment to understand. The Parshendi. They weren’t like common parshman workers. They were far more muscular, ... |
were screaming in pain, arrows cutting them out from underneath their bridges. There was a crashing sound as another bridge dropped, its bridgemen slaughtered. Behind, Gaz called out. “Lift and down, you fools!” The bridge crew lurched to a stop as the Parshendi launched another volley. Men behind Kaladin screamed. The... |
The ground near him was littered with bodies. The air smelled of blood and worse. A pair of sorry bridgemen were shaking each man in turn, checking for life, then pulling the vests and sandals off their bodies, shooing away the cremlings feeding on the bodies. The men would never have checked on Kaladin. He didn’t have... |
amusing. It appears that I have a nickname.” “Congratulations.” Kaladin stood up again, wobbling. To the side, Gaz stood with hands on hips, shield tied to his back. “You,” he said, pointing at Kaladin. He then gestured to the bridge. “You’ve got to be kidding,” Kaladin said, looking as the remnants of the bridge crew—... |
Davar lands. Shallan had never known enough to be suspicious of that wealth’s origins. Every time the family had exhausted one of its quarries, her father had gone out with his surveyor and discovered a new one. Only after interrogating the surveyor had Shallan and her brothers discovered the truth: Her father, using h... |
she could still hear distant bells ring behind her. Perhaps that was why the people here liked them so much; even in the depths of the Conclave, one could hear the outside world. The servant led Shallan to a pair of grand steel doors. The servant bowed and Shallan dismissed her with a nod. Shallan couldn’t help but adm... |
just reading their titles. But no. Perhaps once she’d made certain her brothers were safe—once her house’s finances were restored—she could return. Perhaps. She felt like she was starving, yet leaving a warm fruit pie uneaten. “Where might I wait?” she asked. “If someone I know is inside.” “You may use one of the readi... |
balconies that extended out over the Veil. It was round, like a turret, and had a waist-high stone rim with a wooden railing above that. Other occupied alcoves glowed with different colors from the spheres being used to light them; the darkness of the huge space made them seem to hover in the air. This alcove had a lon... |
seemed to draw of their own accord. It was so much easier to think while drawing. Before too long, she had copied her Memory onto the page. She held up the sheet, satisfied, relaxed, her mind clear. The memorized image of Kharbranth was gone from her head; she’d released it into her sketch. There was a sense of relaxat... |
Eventually, she held up the page, satisfied. It depicted Yalb and the porter in detail, with hints of the busy city behind. She’d gotten their eyes right. That was the most important. Each of the Ten Essences had an analogous part of the human body—blood for liquid, hair for wood, and so forth. The eyes were associated... |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.