Words of Radiance (The Stormlight Archive, #2)

by Brandon Sanderson

‘Many people consider that sort of thing enjoyable.’ ‘Many people, unfortunately, are idiots.’

Yalb stepped up to her, proffering the pages. ‘Your accouterments, my lady.’ Shallan raised an eyebrow. ‘Accouterments?’ ‘Sure,’ the young sailor said with a grin. ‘I’m practicing my fancy words. They help a fellow obtain reasonable feminine companionship. You know – the kind of young lady who doesn’t smell too bad an’ has at least a few teeth left.’

‘These sketches are characteristically skillful, Shallan, but weren’t you supposed to be reading?’ ‘I . . . had trouble concentrating.’ ‘So you came up on deck,’ Jasnah said, ‘to sketch pictures of young men working without their shirts on. You expected this to help your concentration?’

‘This one is not very impressive.’ ‘Yes. I will admit that I’m disappointed. I feel that we’re missing something important about this, Shallan, and I find it annoying. The Cryptics have a fearful reputation, and yet this one – the first specimen I’ve ever seen – seems . . .’ It climbed up the wall, then slipped down, then climbed back up, then slipped down again. ‘Imbecilic?’ Shallan asked.

Anyway, it’s not that I don’t want to tell you what I know. I do! I just . . . I don’t know what I know.’ ‘That doesn’t make sense.’ ‘Well, imagine how frustrating it feels!’

‘Sure,’ Lopen said from behind them. ‘Just go ahead and leave the Herdazian stuck to the wall. The view here is wonderful. Oh, and is that slime running down my cheek? A fresh new look for the Lopen, who cannot brush it away, because – have I mentioned? – his hand is stuck to the wall.’ Kaladin smiled, walking over. ‘You were the one who asked me to stick you to a wall in the first place, Lopen.’ ‘My other hand?’ Lopen said. ‘The one that was cut off long ago, eaten by a fearsome beast? It is making a rude gesture toward you right now. I thought you would wish to know, so that you can prepare to be insulted.’

‘You think I’m as dumb as that stick.’ Stop insulting my stick.

‘I can see why we need fellows who know how to light fires,’ Bluth said. ‘But I don’t see why we need people to use fancy words.’ ‘Shhhh,’ Shallan said. ‘Don’t say that so loudly. If the lighteyes hear, they might stop wasting their time making up new words, and instead start interfering with the business of honest men.’

‘Historians,’ Shallan said, ‘are a bunch of liars.’ ‘Mmmmm,’ Pattern said, sounding satisfied. ‘That wasn’t a compliment.’ ‘Oh.’

‘Being unimportant is important. Being important is useless. Got it.’

‘I am curiosity,’ Shallan said. ‘These animals, they are horses? Yet you are darkeyed. This . . . Kholin trusts you well.’ ‘I do my duty,’ Kal said, studying her. ‘Where are the rest of your people? That caravan looks as if it’s all Vorin. Also, you look a little spindly for a Horneater.’ ‘Did you just insult the princess’s weight?’ Tyn asked, aghast. Storms! She was good. She actually managed to produce angerspren with the remark. Well, nothing to do but soldier on. ‘I am offend!’ Shallan yelled. ‘You have offended Her Highness again!’ ‘Very offend!’ ‘You’d better apologize.’ ‘No apologize!’ Shallan declared. ‘Boots!’

‘I ain’t grouchy,’ Teft snapped. ‘I just have a low threshold for stupidity.’

‘Look,’ Adolin said, turning to Shallan. ‘I can see what you’re up to.’ ‘Five foot six inches,’ Shallan said. ‘I suspect that’s all I will ever be up to, unfortunately.’

‘Wait,’ Adolin said, frowning more deeply. ‘You wore the bridgeboy’s boots? How did that happen?’ ‘Awkwardly,’ Shallan replied. ‘And with three pairs of socks.’