Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive, #4)

by Brandon Sanderson

“Why do you fight, Kaladin Stormblessed?” Zahel’s phantom voice called from somewhere nearby. Kaladin spun, sword out. “I fight for Alethkar.” “Ha! You ask me to sponsor you as a swordmaster, then immediately lie to me?” “I didn’t ask…” Kaladin took a deep breath. “I wear Dalinar’s colors proudly.” “You fight for him, not because of him,” Zahel called. “Why do you fight?” Kaladin crept in the direction he thought the sound came from. “I fight to protect my men.” “Closer,” Zahel said. “But your men are now as safe as they could ever be. They can care for themselves. So why do you keep fighting?” “Maybe I don’t think they’re safe,” Kaladin said. “Maybe I…” “… don’t think they can care for themselves?” Zahel asked. “You and old Dalinar. Hens from the same nest.”

He tossed his scarf at Kaladin’s feet. Though it must have been a different scarf, for the one he’d started with had been bright red, and this one was dull grey.

“What are you?” Kaladin asked. “Are you like Wit?” There had always been something about Zahel, something too knowing. Something distinct, set apart, different from the others. “No,” Zahel said. “I don’t think there’s anyone else quite like Hoid. I knew him by the name Dust when I was younger. I think he must have a thousand different names among a thousand different peoples.” “And you?” Kaladin settled down on the stone beside Zahel. “How many names do you have?” “A few,” Zahel said. “More than I normally share.” He leaned forward, elbows on thighs. Wind blew at the hem of his robe, dangling over a drop of thousands of feet. “You want to know what I am? Well, I’m a lot of things. Tired, mostly. But I’m also a Type Two Invested entity. Used to call myself a Type One, but I had to throw the whole scale out, once I learned more. That’s the trouble with science. It’s never done. Always upending itself. Ruining perfect systems for the little inconvenience of them being wrong.” “I…” Kaladin swallowed. “I don’t know what any of that meant, but thanks for replying. Wit never gives me answers. At least not straight ones.” “That’s because Wit is an asshole,” Zahel said.

Truth.

He lowered his hand. He was so tired. But today, he couldn’t afford to be tired. He had to be Kaladin Stormblessed. Kaladin Stormblessed fought anyway.

“It will,” Wit said, “but then it will get better. Then it will get worse again. Then better. This is life, and I will not lie by saying every day will be sunshine. But there will be sunshine again, and that is a very different thing to say. That is truth. I promise you, Kaladin: You will be warm again.”

“Ideas are not useless simply because they involve religious thinking,” Jasnah said. “Nearly all of the ancient scholars I revere were religious, and I appreciate how their faith shaped them, even if I do not appreciate the faith itself.”

“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.”

“Besides,” he whispered, “I know the Words.”

Speak the Words, and do not despair.

Dalinar was not convinced that the thing Szeth bore was a simple “creation of mortal hands.”