Words of Radiance

“I had instruction,” Dalinar said, walking into the room and tucking the sphere away. “The Stormfather called me Bondsmith.”

“It was the name of one of the orders,” Shallan said, resting her fingers on one of the pillars. “That makes three of us. Windrunner, Bondsmith, Lightweaver.”

“Four,” a voice said from the shadows of the stairwell. Renarin stepped up into the lit room. He looked at them, then shrank back.

“Son?” Dalinar asked.

Renarin remained in the darkness, looking down.

“No spectacles…” Dalinar whispered. “You stopped wearing them. I thought you were trying to look like a warrior, but no. Stormlight healed your eyes.”

Renarin nodded.

“And the Shardblade,” Dalinar said, stepping over and taking his son by the shoulder. “You hear screams. That’s what happened to you in the arena. You couldn’t fight because of those shouts in your head from summoning the Blade. Why? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought it was me,” Renarin whispered. “My mind. But Glys, he says…” Renarin blinked. “Truthwatcher.”

“Truthwatcher?” Kaladin said, glancing at Shallan. She shook her head. “I walk the winds. She weaves light. Brightlord Dalinar forges bonds. What do you do?”

Renarin met Kaladin’s eyes across the room. “I see.”

“Four orders,” Dalinar said, squeezing Renarin’s shoulder with pride. Storms, the lad was trembling. What made him so worried? Dalinar turned to the others. “The other orders must be returning as well. We need to find those whom the spren have chosen. Quickly, for the Everstorm is upon us, and it is worse than we feared.”

“How?” Shallan asked.

“It will change the parshmen,” Dalinar said. “The Stormfather confirmed it to me. When that storm hits it will bring back the Voidbringers.”

“Damnation,” Kaladin said. “I need to get to Alethkar, to Hearthstone.” He strode toward the exit.

“Soldier?” Dalinar called. “I’ve done what I can to warn our people.”

“My parents are back there,” Kaladin said. “And the citylord of my town has parshmen. I’m going.”

“How?” Shallan asked. “You’ll fly the entire distance?”

“Fall,” Kaladin said. “But yes.” He paused at the doorway out.

“How much Light will that take, son?” Dalinar asked.

“I don’t know,” Kaladin admitted. “A lot, probably.”

Shallan looked to Dalinar. They didn’t have Stormlight to spare. Though those from the warcamps brought recharged spheres, activating the Oathgate took a great deal of Stormlight, depending on how many people were brought. Lighting the lamps in the room at the center of the Oathgate was merely the minimum amount needed to start the device—bringing many people partially drained the infused gemstones they carried as well.

“I will get you what I can, lad,” Dalinar said. “Go with my blessing. Perhaps you will have enough left over to get to the capital afterward and help the people there.”

Kaladin nodded. “I’ll put together a pack. I need to leave within the hour.” He ducked from the room into the stairwell down.

Dalinar sucked in more Stormlight, and felt the last of his wounds retreat. This seemed a thing a man could easily grow accustomed to having.

He sent Renarin with orders to speak with the king and requisition some emerald broams that Kaladin could borrow for his trip. Elhokar had finally arrived, in the company of a group of Herdazians, of all things. One claiming his name needed to be added to the lists of Alethi kings…

Renarin went eagerly to obey the order. He seemed to want something he could do.

He’s one of the Knights Radiant, Dalinar thought, watching him go. I’ll probably need to stop sending him on errands.

Storms. It was really happening.

Shallan had walked to the windows. Dalinar stepped up beside her. This was the eastern face of the tower, the flat edge that looked directly toward the Origin.

“Kaladin will only have time to save a few,” Shallan said. “If that many. There are four of us, Brightlord. Only four against a storm full of destruction…”

“It is what it is.”

“So many will die.”

“And we will save the ones we can,” Dalinar said. He turned to her. “Life before death, Radiant. It is the task to which we are now sworn.”

She pursed her lips, still looking eastward, but nodded. “Life before death, Radiant.”

Epilogue: Art and Expectation

“A blind man awaited the era of endings,” Wit said, “contemplating the beauty of nature.”

Silence.

“That man is me,” Wit noted. “I’m not physically blind, just spiritually. And that other statement was actually very clever, if you think about it.”

Silence.

“This is a lot more satisfying,” he said, “when I have intelligent life whom I can render awed, rapt with attention for my clever verbosity.”

The ugly lizard-crab-thing on the next rock over clicked its claw, an almost hesitant sound.

“You’re right, of course,” Wit said. “My usual audience isn’t particularly intelligent. That was also the obvious joke, however, so shame on you.”