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most furious here, around the chrysalis. Dalinar rested back against a shelf of rock and pulled his helm off, exposing a sweaty head to the cool breeze. The sun was high overhead; the battle had lasted two hours or so. Adolin worked efficiently, using his Shardblade with care to shave off a section of the outside of th...
feeble, feeling his way with a cane until he recognized Kaladin. Then he stood up straighter. “Oh. It’s you.” It had been two more long days. Daytime spent working and training—Teft and Rock now practiced with him—evenings spent at the first chasm, retrieving the reeds from their hiding place in a crevice and then milk...
on one side to keep them from rolling away. “Actually,” the apothecary said, rubbing his chin. “I’ll give you three.” He took out one more mark. “Hate to see all of your effort go to waste.” “Kaladin,” Syl said, studying the apothecary. “He’s nervous about something. I think he’s lying!” “I know,” Kaladin said. “What’s...
that this could grow very dangerous. Men killed to keep such secrets. “Line my pocket or line the brightlords’,” Kaladin said. “I guess I can’t argue with that logic.” He set the bottle back on the counter. “I’ll take the deal, provided you throw in some more bandages.” “Very well,” the apothecary said, relaxing. “But ...
so it would be plausible. He’d be taken for a deserter, but he could live with that. That had been his plan for most of the later months of his enslavement, but he’d never had the means. It took money to travel, to get far enough away from the area where his description would be in circulation. Money to buy lodging in ...
the leeward side of a month was over!” “They’re people, Gaz. If we don’t ‘fill the barracks’ with wounded, it’s because we’re leaving them out there to die.” “They’ll die here anyway.” “We’ll see.” Gaz watched him, eyes narrow. It seemed like he suspected that Kaladin had somehow tricked him in taking the stone-gatheri...
Bridge Four began to gather near the bottom of the ladder, staying in a clump. Every fourth man lit his torch, but the light didn’t do much to dispel the gloom; it just allowed Kaladin to see more of the unnatural landscape. Strange, tube-shaped fungi grew in cracks. They were a wan yellow, like the skin of a child wit...
to harvest. The crew was required to bring up a specific amount of salvage or face docked pay for the week, but the quota wasn’t onerous. Enough to keep the bridgemen working, but not enough to force them to fully exert themselves. Like most bridgeman work, this was meant to keep them occupied as much as anything else....
normal personality. “I was talking,” Teft said, “about slot canyons. You want to guess what will happen if we get trapped down here in a highstorm?” “Lots of water, I guess,” Rock said. “Lots of water, looking to go any place it can,” Teft said. “It gathers into enormous waves and goes crashing through these confined s...
Horneater sounds flowing easily from his lips. “Of course. Is description of very special rock my father discovered the day before my birth.” “So your name is a whole sentence?” Dunny asked, uncertain—as if he wasn’t sure he belonged. “Is poem,” Rock said. “On the Peaks, everyone’s name is poem.” “Is that so?” Teft sai...
the way back. At every intersection or branch, Kaladin made a white mark on the wall with a piece of chalk. That was the bridgeleader’s duty, and he took it seriously. He wouldn’t have his crew getting lost out in these rifts. As they walked and worked, Kaladin kept the conversation going. He laughed—forced himself to ...
didn’t like talking about their pasts. Anyway, Dunny was probably right to correct him. Kaladin would be punished if he were heard omitting a lighteyes’s honorific. Kaladin put the cap in his sack, then rammed his torch into a gap between two moss-covered boulders and started helping the others get the bodies into a li...
real soldiers. It’s the difference between fighting to defend your homeland and fighting on foreign soil. It’s good to care when you fight, so long as you don’t let it consume you. Don’t try to stop yourself from feeling. You’ll hate who you become. The spear quivered in Kaladin’s fingers, as if begging him to swing it...
the earth, holding the spear of a fallen man, fingers gripping the wet wood, a faint dripping coming from somewhere distant. Strength surged through him as he spun the spear up into an advanced kata. His body moved of its own accord, going through the forms he’d trained in so frequently. The spear danced in his fingers...
seen the entire kata? Flushing, Kaladin hurried up to them. Syl landed on his shoulder, silent. “Kaladin, lad,” Teft said reverently. “That was—” “It was meaningless,” Kaladin said. “Just a kata. Meant to work the muscles and make you practice the basic jabs, thrusts, and sweeps. It’s a lot showier than it is useful.” ...
uncut gemstones. Just as Kaladin had expected, they wore armor of a pale red color. Breastplates, helms on the heads, guards on the arms and legs. Extensive armor for regular foot soldiers. Some of it was cracked from the fall or the wash. It wasn’t metal, then. Painted wood? “I thought you said they weren’t armored,” ...
most glyphs in complex ways that made it hard to read them, unless you knew exactly what to look for. There was a figure at the center of the hilt, nicely carved. It was a man in fine armor. Shardplate, certainly. A symbol was etched behind him, surrounding him, spreading out from his back like wings. Kaladin showed it...
ring of stones and setting up some stumps of wood from the lumberyard scrap pile. That wood was free for anyone to take. Even bridgemen were allowed; some liked to take chunks to whittle. Kaladin got out a sphere for light. The thing Rock had been carrying was an old iron cauldron. Even though it was secondhand, it had...
bowl toward Skar. Steam curled from the surface of the brownish liquid. “Will you join us?” Kaladin asked. “Please.” Skar looked at him, then back down at the stew. He laughed, taking the stew. “I’d join the Nightwatcher herself around a fire if there was stew involved!” “Be careful,” Teft said. “That’s Horneater stew....
too strained. And when Adolin’s father felt strained, he grew cold and businesslike. When he spoke to Teleb, his tone was too controlled. Dalinar Kholin was suddenly a man laboring beneath great weight. And Adolin had helped put him there. The chulls advanced. Their boulderlike shells were painted blue and yellow, the ...
Plus, it was good for the men to see their highprince and his heir in their strength. They drew attention as they left the staging area and entered the warcamp proper. Like Adolin, Dalinar went about unhelmed, though the gorget of his armor was tall and thick, rising like a metal collar up to his chin. He nodded to sol...
gemhearts at the rate we have?” “I…” That was a good question. “What happens, I wonder, when the scarcest, yet most desirable, substance in the land suddenly becomes commonplace? There’s much going on here, son. Much we haven’t considered. The gemhearts, the Parshendi, the death of Gavilar. You will have to be ready to...
troops.” Adolin frowned, but the soldiers were waiting. One company at a time, Havrom had the men fall in. Adolin walked before them, inspecting their lines and uniforms. They were neat and orderly, though Adolin knew that some of the soldiers in their army grumbled at the level of polish required of them. He happened ...
to defend him. He opened his eyes. “I spoke to some of you before, I recall. But let me ask again. Did any of you see a cut strap on the king’s saddle?” The men looked at each other, shaking heads. “No, Brightlord,” one of the men replied. “If we’d seen it, we’d have changed it, right we would.” “But, Brightlord,” one ...
will speak to the runner myself.” Reluctantly, Niter waved the spindly fellow forward. He approached and dropped to one knee before Dalinar. “Brightlord.” This time, Dalinar didn’t ask for Adolin to take the lead. “Deliver your message.” “Brightlord Thanadal regrets that he is unable to attend you this day.” “And did h...
point that he no longer had the presence of mind to let go. A monarch is control, he thought, remembering a passage from The Way of Kings. He provides stability. It is his service and his trade good. If he cannot control himself, then how can he control the lives of men? What merchant worth his Stormlight won’t partake...
It felt good to be working. To be doing something useful. Lately, he felt as if his efforts had been akin to running about in circles. The work helped him think. He was losing his thirst for battle. That worried him, as the Thrill—the enjoyment and longing for war—was part of what drove the Alethi as a people. The gran...
was true. Bang! Stone could not be changed without pounding. Was it the same with a man like him? Was that why everything was so hard for him suddenly? But why him? Dalinar wasn’t a philosopher or idealist. He was a soldier. And—if he admitted the truth—in earlier years, he’d been a tyrant and a warmonger. Could twilig...
His mind was calm, clear. He swung the hammer again. “Wouldn’t the Blade be more efficient?” asked a dry, feminine voice. Dalinar froze, the hammer’s head resting on broken stone. He turned to see Navani standing beside the trough, wearing a gown of blue and soft red, her grey-sprinkled hair reflecting light from a sun...
communicated; the messages he’d sent her had prompted only the tersest of answers. When Jasnah was deeply immersed in one of her projects, she often ignored all else. If she was sending to him now, either she’d discovered something or she was taking a break to renew her contacts. Dalinar turned to look down the latrine...
scared your brother too, you know.” He said nothing. “It’s still in there,” she said. “I can see it in your eyes. But you’ve wrapped armor around it, a glistening set of Shardplate to contain it. That is part of what I find fascinating.” He stopped, looking at her. The palanquin bearers halted. “This would not work, Na...
to hear. She pretended—for propriety—that she wasn’t listening in. “You know, it is customary to eventually choose just one woman to court.” You’re going to need a good wife, son. Perhaps very soon. “When I’m old and boring, perhaps,” Adolin said, smiling at the young woman. She was pretty. But only in camp one day? Bl...
Dalinar stood beside the writing table, armored arms folded. He could see that his proximity made Danlan nervous, but he was too anxious to sit. Jasnah had elegant handwriting, of course—Jasnah rarely did anything without taking the time to perfect it. Dalinar leaned forward as the familiar—yet indecipherable—lines app...
come when I dare not stay away either.’” What? Dalinar thought. “‘Regardless,’” Danlan continued, “‘I have some questions for you. I need you to describe for me again what happened when you met that first Parshendi patrol seven years ago.’” Dalinar frowned. Despite the Plate’s augmentation, his digging had left him fee...
he made the treaty hoping to get out of them where they’d found the weapons? Is it his death? Dalinar wondered. Is that the secret Jasnah’s looking for? She’d never shown Elhokar’s dedication to vengeance, but she thought differently from her brother. Revenge wouldn’t drive her. But questions. Yes, questions would. “‘O...
had taken one. She always said she didn’t have the time. “This picture’s of a chasmfiend,” Dalinar said. Danlan wrote the words. A moment later, the reply came. “‘The book describes this as a picture of a Voidbringer.’” Danlan frowned, cocking her head. “‘The book is a copy of a text originally written in the years bef...
unsatisfied. What had he gained from the conversation? More vague hints? What could be so important about Jasnah’s research that she would ignore threats to the kingdom? He would have to compose a more forthright letter to her once he’d made his announcement, explaining why he had decided to step down. Perhaps that wou...
is a terrible mistake.” “It is mine to make. And I must repeat my request. I have many things to think about, Navani, and I can’t deal with you right now.” He pointed at the doorway. Navani rolled her eyes, but left as requested. She shut the door behind her. That’s it, Dalinar thought, letting out a long exhalation. I...
the most modern of clothing for a young woman her age: a deep blue patterned silk vest over a light green long-sleeved shirt with stiff cuffs. Her ankle-length skirt—also green—was stiff and businesslike, utilitarian in cut but embroidered for fashion. She wore a green glove on her left hand. Covering the safehand was ...
one who didn’t know when to protect himself, but instead just stared at the wall drooling. She dug into the ground with a finger, then brought it up to inspect the “soil,” as Vstim had called it. It was dirty stuff. Why, a strong gust could uproot this entire field of grass and blow it away. Good thing the highstorms c...
fields. They treat all farmers like that, lavish them with attention and respect.” Rysn gaped. “But most villages are filled with farmers!” “Indeed,” Vstim said. “Holy places, here. Foreigners aren’t allowed near fields or farming villages.” How strange, she thought. Perhaps living in this place has affected their mind...
outsiders think. And you give us metal for them! Metal that bears no stain of broken rock. A miracle.” Vstim shrugged. “Those scraps are practically worthless where I come from. They’re made by ardents practicing with Soulcasters. They can’t make food, because if you get it wrong, it’s poisonous. So they turn garbage i...
“Those are rather different things, master.” “Yes,” he said. “But with the Shin, it’s often hard to distinguish among them. Regardless, what did you really learn?” “That they treat being humble like the Herdazians treat boasting,” she said. “You both went out of your way to show how worthless your wares were. I found i...
where I am, then? Excellent.” A few heartbeats of mental focus finally banished the headache. He opened his eyes, and this time found the sunlight quite pleasant. Brick walls rose toward the sky on either side of him, overgrown with a crusty red lichen. Small heaps of rotting tubers were scattered around him. No. Not s...
hand, which was touching one of the ratty blankets draped over one of his equally ratty boxes. He perched atop them, like…well, like a god looking down over his people. Poor fool, Axies thought. It was really time to be moving on. Wouldn’t want to bring any bad luck down upon the addled fellow. The beggar held up the b...
so drunk that he’d written his observations someplace inconvenient. He’d done that once, and reading the mess had required two mirrors and a very confused bathing attendant. Ah, he thought, discovering a new entry near the inside of his left elbow. He read it awkwardly, shuffling down the incline. Test successful. Have...
golden pedestals that had been placed there by the people of the city. The spren came at the same time every day, without fail. They called it by name, Cusicesh, the Protector. Some worshipped it as a god. Most simply accepted it as part of the city. It was unique. One of the few types of spren he knew of that seemed t...
Nearby, a group of men in brown cloaks sat chatting and rubbing their thumbs and forefingers together. Wisps of smoke rose between their fingers, accompanied by a faint crackling sound. Rubbing firemoss was said to make a man’s mind more receptive to thoughts and ideas. The one time Szeth had tried it, it had given him...
would steal the Oathstone from them? Were they terrified that the weapon they employed so callously would be turned against them? Perhaps he feared that if it were known how easily Szeth was controlled, it would spoil their reputation. Szeth had overheard more than one conversation centered around the mystery of Makkek...
arrogantly made his home in a large mansion on the eastern side of town. It belonged to the provincial landlord; Gavashaw had his favor. The landlord had heard of Makkek and his quick rise to prominence in the underground, and supporting a rival was a good way to create an early check on Makkek’s power. The citylord’s ...
of the mansion. He dropped down onto the dome, Stormlight streaming from his body. Translucent, luminescent, pristine. Like the ghost of a fire burning from him, consuming his soul. He summoned his Shardblade in the stillness and dark, then used it to slice a hole in the dome, angling his Blade so that the chunk of roc...
Szeth to kill minor rivals, instead sending him to kill Shardbearers or powerful lighteyes? How long before someone made the connection? A Shin assassin with a Shardblade, capable of mysterious feats and extreme stealth? Could this be the now-infamous Assassin in White? Makkek could draw the Alethi king and highprinces...
He scanned the room, looking for motion in the other shadows. None seemed to be hiding anyone. “I’ve watched you,” the voice said. “You’ve been sent to intimidate shopkeepers. You’ve killed footpads so unimportant even the authorities ignore them. You’ve been shown off to impress whores, as if they were high lighteyed ...
and his Stormlight illuminated some two dozen names written in the warrior’s script of his homeland. Some had a note beside them with instructions on how they were to be killed. Glories within, Szeth thought. “These are some of the most powerful people in the world! Six highprinces? A Selay gerontarch? The king of Jah ...
confident. The most difficult thing of all was knowing that it would soon end. Coming to study in Kharbranth was, without doubt, the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her. I will manage, she wrote. You are the ones living the difficult life, maintaining our family’s interests at home. How are you doing? It...
did figure out where Father got it, Nan Balat sent. Shallan, he was involved in something. Those maps, the things Luesh said, and now this. We continue to pretend that Father is alive, and occasionally he gets letters from other lighteyes that speak of vague “plans.” I think he was going to make a play to become highpr...
care, Nan Balat sent her. You too. And that was it. She set the spanreed aside, then read over the entire conversation, memorizing it. Then she crumpled up the sheets and walked into the sitting room of Jasnah’s quarters. She wasn’t there—Jasnah rarely broke from her studies—so Shallan burned the conversation in the he...
be the right word, then?” “I don’t know. ‘Errorgant,’ perhaps.” Jasnah raised a skeptical eyebrow. “It means to be twice as certain as someone who is merely arrogant,” Shallan said, “while possessing only one-tenth the requisite facts.” Her words drew a hint of a smile from Jasnah. “What you are reacting against is kno...
tried very hard to discourage.” “Likely through strict punishments.” “Yes. Making me sit in the corner holding books over my head was the preferred method.” “Which, in turn,” Jasnah said with a sigh, “only trained you to make your quips more quickly, for you knew you had to get them out before you could reconsider and ...
when she proposed the theory of the three realms.” “But for every Sunmaker or Gavarah, are there not a hundred Gregorhs?” He had been a youthful king notorious for beginning a pointless war with kingdoms that had been his father’s allies. “There was only one Gregorh,” Jasnah said with a grimace, “thankfully. Your point...
world. Your goal is to protect your brothers and your house. Still, she needed to make a good show of her wardship. And that gave her a reason to immerse herself for two hours until footsteps in the hallway interrupted. Likely the servants bringing the midday meal. Jasnah and Shallan often ate on their balcony. Shallan...
but then turned back to his soup. He seemed intimidated by Jasnah. “And how is your granddaughter, Your Majesty?” Jasnah eventually asked. “She is recovering well?” “Quite well, thank you,” Taravangian said, as if relieved to begin conversing. “Though she now avoids the narrower corridors of the Conclave. I do want to ...
“Nonsense,” Shallan said. “A face like yours is just what an artist needs.” “It is?” “Yes, the—” She cut herself off. She’d been about to quip, Yes, the skin is enough like parchment to make an ideal canvas. “…that handsome nose of yours, and wise furrowed skin. It will be quite striking in the black charcoal.” “Oh, we...
usually best for the individual as well. Humankind is noble, when we give it the chance to be. That nobility is something that exists independent of any god’s decree.” “I just don’t see how anything could be outside God’s decrees.” The king shook his head, bemused. “Brightness Jasnah, I don’t mean to argue, but isn’t t...
let myself grow sloppy.” “Well, certainly we can at least see it, child,” the king said, standing. Shallan tightened her grip. “Please, no!” “She has an artist’s temperament at times, Your Majesty.” Jasnah sighed. “There will be no getting it out of her.” “I’ll do you another, Your Majesty,” Shallan said. “I’m so sorry...
a wonderful man,” Jasnah said, “and worth a hundred self-proclaimed experts on courtly ways. He reminds me of my uncle Dalinar. Earnest, sincere, concerned.” “The lighteyes here say he’s weak,” Shallan said. “Because he panders to so many other monarchs, because he fears war, because he doesn’t have a Shardblade.” Jasn...
surge of pleasure. Praise from Jasnah was more precious than an emerald broam. But…I’m not going to be a scholar. I’m going to steal the Soulcaster and leave. She didn’t like to think about that. That was something else she’d have to get over; she tended to avoid thinking about things that made her uncomfortable. “Now ...
he wouldn’t have had to live with that darkness. One of his eyes was always closed. Close the other, and the darkness swallowed him. Gaz glanced left, and the darkness scuttled to the side. Lamaril stood leaning against a post, tall and slim. He was not a massive man, but he was not weak. He was all lines. Rectangular ...
just cast themselves into the chasm. Bait. They were bait. Draw the Parshendi attention, let the savages think they were doing some good by felling a few bridges’ worth of bridgemen every assault. So long as you took plenty of men, that didn’t matter. Except to those who were slaughtered. Stormfather, Gaz thought, I ha...
bridge in a quick motion. It hit the ground awkwardly, scraping the stone. They got into position, pretending to move it across a chasm. Kaladin helped at the side. We’ll need to practice on a real chasm, he thought as the men finished. I wonder what kind of bribe it would take for Gaz to let me do that. The bridgemen,...
sergeant. Eventually, she made her way over to Kaladin, landing on his shoulder, taking her female form. “He’s planning something,” she said. “He hasn’t interfered,” Kaladin said. “He hasn’t even tried to stop us from having the nightly stew.” “He was talking to that lighteyes.” “Lamaril?” She nodded. “Lamaril’s his su...
said. “The craftsmen want to make bridges that last. The soldiers I listen to, they just want to get to the plateau, grab the gemheart, and get away. It’s like a game to them.” “That’s astute. You’re getting better and better at observing us.” She grimaced. “I feel more like I’m remembering things I once knew.” “Soon y...
subsquad commanders, something that bridgemen didn’t normally have. But soldiers worked best in smaller groups of six or eight. Soldiers, Kaladin thought. Is that how I think of them? They didn’t fight. But yes, they were soldiers. It was too easy to underestimate men when you considered them to be “just” bridgemen. Ch...
of the time, only half of a bridge crew will survive a bridge run. We can carry it back this way when there are fewer of us. It will let us shift positions, at least.” Gaz hesitated. Only half a bridge crew… If they carried the bridge like that on an actual assault, they’d go slowly, expose themselves. It could be a di...
men in Kal’s drawings. “We could spend the spheres,” Kal said hesitantly. “Those are for your education,” Lirin snapped. “If I could send you now, I would.” Kal’s father and mother had sent a letter to the surgeons in Kharbranth, asking them to let Kal take the entry tests early. They’d responded in the negative. “He w...
them all. Shouldn’t Lirin fight back somehow? Do something other than sit and wait? But he didn’t say anything; he knew exactly what Lirin would say. Let me worry about it. Get back to your studies. Sighing, Kal settled back in his chair, opening his folio again. The surgery room was dim, lit by the four spheres on the...
the roadway. Kal had an image in his head of the reptilian creatures, as big as horses but with carapace across their backs. Was one of them sniffing at the door? Brushing it, trying to force its way in? “Father!” Kal yelped. Lirin pulled open the door. The dim light of the spheres revealed not a monster, but a man wea...
didn’t say anything to them at first. He stood with that light blazing, illuminating the entire stone square outside. The men seemed to shrink down, as if they knew he recognized them. “Well?” Lirin said. “You’ve threatened violence against me. Come. Hit me. Rob me. Do it knowing I’ve lived among you almost my entire l...
Four is down to thirty fighting members.” “Bridge Six and Bridge Fourteen have fewer than that.” “They each had twenty-nine and you just gave them both a big helping of new members. And Bridge One is at thirty-seven, and you sent them three new men.” “You barely lost anyone on the last run, and—” Kaladin caught Gaz’s a...
with me? You don’t know anything about the different bridge crews.” “You were only picking one,” the man said. “That means one man gets to be special, the others don’t. I’ve got a good feeling about you. It’s in your eyes, gancho.” He paused. “What’s a bridge crew?” Kaladin found himself smiling at the man’s nonchalant...
rain barrel? Go get some waterskins from the carpenter’s assistants. They told me we could borrow some. Fill as many as you can, then catch up down below.” “Sure, gancho,” Lopen said. “Bridge up!” Kaladin shouted, moving into position at the front. “Shoulder carry!” Bridge Four moved. While some of the other bridge cre...
They set their bridge down before the penultimate chasm, positioning it, and Kaladin felt a foreboding as the scouts crossed. The Tower was wedge-shaped, uneven, with the southeastern point rising far into the air, creating a steep hillside. Sadeas had brought a large number of soldiers; this plateau was enormous, allo...
army and put it down, waiting for the other bridges to get in place. Lopen and the other two water-carriers hung back with Gaz; it looked like they wouldn’t get into trouble for not running. That was a small blessing. Kaladin felt sweat bead on his forehead. He could just barely make out the Parshendi ranks ahead, on t...
bows. They pulled arrows to marbled cheeks, sighting on the bridgemen. As expected, many aimed at his men. Almost close enough! Just a few heartbeats more… Now! Kaladin turned sharply to the left just as the Parshendi loosed. The bridge moved with him, now charging with the face of the bridge pointed toward the archers...
the side carry. As one straggling crew tried to hold their bridge up in the new position, they dropped it. Two more bridge crews were cut down completely by the Parshendi, who continued to fire. Heavy cavalry charged, crossing the six bridges that had been set. Normally, two riders abreast on each bridge added up to a ...
needs of his own crew. It was a foolish mistake, and he should have known better. He would have known better, if he’d still thought of himself as a real soldier. He hated Sadeas; he hated the way the man used bridge crews. But he shouldn’t have changed Bridge Four’s basic tactics without considering the larger scheme o...
then pointed at Kaladin. “If you leave me alive,” Kaladin said, “I promise I will tell your superiors that you had nothing to do with this. If you kill me, it will look like you were trying to hide something.” “Hide something?” Gaz said, glancing at the battle on the Tower. A stray arrow clattered across the rocks a sh...
had been Soulcast into quartz purely for ornamentation. The railings had been carved from wood, then transformed to marble. When she ran her fingers across one, she could feel the original wood’s grain. At the same time, it had the cold smoothness of stone. An oddity that seemed designed to confuse the senses. Her pars...
of old paper and dust. Not wet. It was never damp in the Palanaeum. Perhaps the dryness had something to do with the long troughs of white powder at the ends of each room. She undid her portfolio’s leather ties. Inside, the top sheets were blank, and the next few contained drawings she’d done of people in the Palanaeum...
the stones. She inspected it in the light, looking—not for the first time—for signs of that damage. The link in the chain had been replaced perfectly and the setting reforged equally well. Even knowing exactly where the cuts had been, she couldn’t find any flaw. Unfortunately, repairing only the outward defects hadn’t ...
the middle and at the bottom, she found a thin red volume with a red hogshide cover. Shadows Remembered. Shallan set her lantern on the ground and slipped the book free, feeling furtive as she flipped through the pages. She was confused by what she discovered. She hadn’t realized this was a book of children’s stories. ...
my soul, isn’t it? You’re worried about me because I’m apprenticed to a heretic.” “Er…well, yes, I’m afraid.” “I’d be insulted,” Shallan said. “But you did bring jam.” She smiled, waving for her parshman to deposit her books and then wait beside the doorway. Was it true that there were parshmen on the Shattered Plains ...
funny. I mean that we’re more complex than mere bundles of personality traits. Am I spontaneous? Sometimes. You might describe my chasing Jasnah here to become her ward that way. But before that, I spent seventeen years being about as unspontaneous as someone could be. In many situations—if I’m encouraged—my tongue can...
books. “I was under the impression that you enjoyed your studies.” “As was I. Then Jasnah Kholin stomped into my life and proved that even something pleasant could become boring.” “I see. So she’s a harsh mistress?” “Actually, no,” Shallan said. “I’m just fond of hyperbole.” “I’m not,” he said. “It’s a real bastard to ...
interest you in our devotary.” “I have a devotary. The Devotary of Purity.” “But the Devotary of Purity isn’t the place for a scholar. The Glory it advocates has nothing to do with your studies or your art.” “A person doesn’t need a devotary that focuses directly on their Calling.” “It is nice when the two coincide, th...
devotaries encourage women to leave difficult studies of theology to the ardents. If only Jasnah had been able to see the true beauty of our doctrine.” He smiled, digging a thick book out of his bread basket. “I really had hoped, originally, to be able to show her what I mean.” “I doubt she’d react well to that.” “Perh...
inches above the tabletop. Kabsal sprinkled white, powdery sand on the sheet of metal, coating it. Then he got out a bow, the kind drawn across strings to make music. “You came prepared for this demonstration, I see,” Shallan noted. “You really did want to make your case to Jasnah.” He smiled, then drew the bow across ...
them.” Kabsal flushed. He moved to gather up his things. Jasnah waved for the parshman to place her books on the table. “Can that plate reproduce a cymatic pattern corresponding to Urithiru, priest? Or do you only have patterns for the standard four cities?” Kabsal looked at her, obviously shocked to realize that she k...
groaned again, hurting everywhere. As his father had trained him, he began to prod his side to check for broken ribs. He winced as he found several that were tender, at least cracked. Probably broken. He felt at his shoulder too, where he feared that his collarbone was broken. One of his eyes was swollen. Time would sh...
to the right. The lumberyard was empty. Kaladin could smell the crisp, chill air, the land bracing for a highstorm. The lull, it was called, when the wind fell still, the air cold, the pressure dropping, the humidity rising right before a storm. A few seconds later, Rock poked his head around the wall, Syl on his shoul...