Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive, #4)

by Brandon Sanderson

In the end, loss and victory smelled the same.

“It’s an old trick, Ulim,” she said. “Everyone—humans, listeners, and apparently gods—deep down suspects that every failure is their own. If you reflect blame on them, most people will assume they are responsible.”

“This story,” Wit said, “is a meaningless one. You must not search for a moral. It isn’t that kind of story, you see. It’s the other kind of story.”

“Who cares?” Kaladin said, stalking back and forth. “By looking up at the dragon, and by trying to become better, he outgrew the other dogs. He achieved something truly special.” Kaladin stopped, then narrowed his eyes at Wit, feeling his anger turn to annoyance. “This story is about me, isn’t it? I said I’m not good enough. You think I have impossible goals, and I’m intentionally ignoring the things I’ve accomplished.” Wit pointed with his spoon. “I told you this story has no meaning. You promised not to assign it one.”

“Any meaning,” Wit said softly, “is for you to assign, Kaladin. I merely tell the stories. Have you finished your stew?”

She attuned Anxiety. And Awe. Complementary emotions, in her experience.

“Ain’t that a kick in the bits?” Lift asked. “You get made immortal; you can live through the centuries. You can fly, or walk through rock, or something like that. But you still gotta piss like everyone else.”

“Honor is not dead so long as he lives in the hearts of men!”

What was a god who only made demands? Nothing but a tyrant with a different name.

Instead I think, if I were to remember my life in detail, I would become even worse. Paralyzed by my terrible actions. I should not like to remember all those I have failed.

Teft was worth saving.

Some people charged toward the goal, running for all they had. Others stumbled. But it wasn’t the speed that mattered. It was the direction they were going.

“You wonder why I don’t fear you? I’ve lived with the knowledge that death is hounding me. You’re nothing new.”

An incredible soldier, who seemed immortal and impervious, completely in control. And a Fused, who somehow looked small by comparison.

Teft, Windrunner, had hope.

“Your legacy is dead, Defeated One,” Leshwi said. “It died when you ran from him.”

This time he jumped.

YOU HAVE NOT. “Will they mean anything if I don’t feel them, Stormfather? Can I lie to swear an Ideal?” Silence. Pure, incriminating silence.

“So it was good someone was there, to help them not feel so alone as it happened.”

“Who wouldn’t be afraid? Doesn’t change that I needed to be here. For them.”

“Since we all go to the same place in the end, the moments we spent with each other are the only things that do matter. The times we helped each other.”

Tears

“See the colors. If you think letting Teft die is a failure—but all the times you supported him are meaningless—then no wonder it always hurts. Instead, if you think of how lucky you both were to be able to help each other when you were together, well, it looks a lot nicer, doesn’t it?”

“If he kills us,” Tien said, “he’s simply dropped us off at a place we were going anyway. We shouldn’t hasten it, and it is sad. But see, he can’t take our moments, our Connection, Kaladin. And those are things that really matter.”