Words of Radiance

Nearby, Teleb—faceplate up—turned and raised an eyebrow at Dalinar.

“You answer me when I ask,” Dalinar said. “But not the others. Why?”

“You’re my commanding officer,” Rlain said.

“You’re Parshendi.”

“I…” The man looked down at the ground, shoulders bowing. He raised a hand to his head, feeling at the ridge of skin just where his skullplate ended. “Something is very wrong, sir. Eshonai’s voice… on the plateau that day, when she came to meet with Prince Adolin…”

“Eshonai,” Dalinar prompted. “The Parshendi Shardbearer?” Nearby, Navani scribbled on a pad of paper, writing down each word spoken.

“Yes. She was my commander. But now…” He looked up, and despite the alien skin and the strange way of speaking, Dalinar recognized grief in this man’s face. Terrible grief. “Sir, I have reason to believe that everyone I know… everyone I loved… has been destroyed, monsters left in their place. The listeners, the Parshendi, may be no more. I have nothing left…”

“Yes you do,” Skar said from outside the ring of guards. “You’re Bridge Four.”

Rlain looked at him. “I’m a traitor.”

“Ha!” Rock said. “Is little problem. Can be fixed.”

Dalinar gestured to quiet the bridgemen. He glanced at Navani, who nodded for him to continue.

“Tell me,” Dalinar said, “how you hid among the parshmen.”

“I…”

“Soldier,” Dalinar barked. “That was an order.”

Rlain sat up. Amazingly, he seemed to want to obey—as if he needed something to lend him strength. “Sir,” Rlain said, “it’s just something my people can do. We choose a form based on what we need, the job required of us. Dullform, one of those forms, looks a lot like a parshman. Hiding among them is easy.”

“We account our parshmen with precision,” Navani said.

“Yes,” Rlain replied, “and we are noticed—but rarely questioned. Who questions when you find an extra sphere lying on the ground? It’s not something suspicious. It’s merely fortune.”

Dangerous territory, Dalinar thought, noticing the change in Rlain’s voice—the beat to which he was speaking. This man did not like how the parshmen were treated.

“You spoke of the Parshendi,” Dalinar said. “This has to do with the red eyes?”

Rlain nodded.

“What does it mean, soldier?” Dalinar asked.

“It means our gods have returned,” Rlain whispered.

“Who are your gods?”

“They are the souls of those ancient. Those who gave of themselves to destroy.” A different rhythm to his words this time, slow and reverent. He looked up at Dalinar. “They hate you and your kind, sir. This new form they have given my people… it is something terrible. It will bring something terrible.”

“Can you lead us to the Parshendi city?” Dalinar asked.

Rlain’s voice changed again. A different rhythm. “My people…”

“You said they are gone,” Dalinar said.

“They might be,” Rlain said. “I got close enough to see an army, tens of thousands. But surely they left some in other forms. The elderly? The young? Who watches our children?”

Dalinar stepped up to Rlain, waving back Adolin, who raised an anxious hand. He stooped down, laying an arm on the Parshendi man’s shoulder.

“Soldier,” Dalinar said, “if what you’re telling me is correct, then the most important thing you can do is lead us to your people. I will see that the noncombatants are protected, my word of honor on it. If something terrible is happening to your people, you need to help me stop it.”

“I…” Rlain took a deep breath. “Yes, sir,” he said to a different rhythm.

“Meet with Shallan Davar,” Dalinar said. “Describe the route to her, and get us a map. Teleb, you may release the prisoner into the custody of Bridge Four.”

The Oldblood Shardbearer nodded. As the group of them left, letting in a gust of rainy wind, Dalinar sighed and sat down beside Navani.

“You trust his word?”

“I don’t know,” Dalinar said. “But something did shake that man, Navani. Soundly.”

“He’s Parshendi,” she said. “You may be misreading his body language.”

Dalinar leaned forward, clasping his hands before him. “The countdown?” he asked.

“Three days away,” Navani said. “Three days before Lightday.”

So little time. “We hasten our pace,” he said.

Inward. Toward the center.

And destiny.

Representation of the Shape of the Shattered Plains

80. To Fight the Rain

You must become king. Of Everything.

From the Diagram, Tenets of Instruction, Back of the Footboard: paragraph 1

Shallan fought against the wind, pulling her stormcoat—stolen from a soldier—close around her as she struggled up the slick incline.

“Brightness?” Gaz asked. He grabbed his cap to keep it from blowing free. “Are you certain you want to do this?”

“Of course I am,” Shallan said. “Whether or not what I’m doing is wise… well, that’s another story.”

These winds were unusual for the Weeping, which was supposed to be a period of placid rainfall, a time for contemplating the Almighty, a respite from highstorms.