Oathbringer (The Stormlight Archive, #3)

by Brandon Sanderson

This large common room reminded her of a wine cellar. Dark, unadorned, and filled with a variety of unusual stenches.

Dice, drawing from a deck of cards, even shuffling up the pieces—betting on such things was like trying to guess the future. And that was so deeply wrong, thinking of it made Veil’s skin crawl. She wasn’t even particularly religious, not like Shallan was.

YOU'RE THE SAME PERSON.

Wait. Did the king have dark eyes?

Scandal!

“Yeah,” a voice piped up. “You’re old.” Dalinar turned, frowning. That had sounded like a young girl. Why would there be a girl on the battlefield?

Lift!

“He’s trying to convince me I should trust him,” Yanagawn said, pointing at Dalinar. “Don’t,” she said. “He’s got too nice a butt.” Dalinar cleared his throat. “What?” “Your butt is too nice. Old guys shouldn’t have tight butts. It means you spend waaay too much time swinging a sword or punching people. You should have an old flabby butt. Then I’d trust you.” “She … has a thing about butts,” Yanagawn said.

For as long as she’d known the man, he’d gone about each of his duties as if he had a boulder tied to his back. Slow to move, quick to find a place to sit down and rest.

She had once tried to avoid Adolin’s former romantic partners, but … well, that was like trying to avoid soldiers on a battlefield. They were just kind of everywhere.

There was no need to hate someone simply because they’d been close to Adolin. It was just that something felt … off about Janala. Like many women at court, her laughter sounded rehearsed, contained. Like they used it as a seasoning, rather than actually feeling it.

“Janala is a fool, just bright enough to be proud of the wits she has, but stupid enough to be unaware of how outmatched they are.”

Always look on the bright side.” “Logically,” Shallan said, “the bright side is the only side you can look on, because the other side is dark.” Renarin laughed.

He settled down on a stool outside the ring. He looked like a warhorse trying to perch on a stand meant for a show pony.

“You could hit my face, Skar. I have seen you jump very high. Almost, you seem as tall as regular person when you do that.”

Either you seize it, and in so doing decide you’re worthy, or you leave and give up.” He pressed the gemstone back down into her hand. “But if you leave, you don’t get to complain. As long as you keep trying, there’s a chance. When you give up? That’s when the dream dies.”

Something stirred deep within her. Glimmers of memory from a dark room, screaming her voice ragged. A childhood illness nobody else seemed to remember, for all it had done to her. It had taught her that people she loved could still hurt her.

“We must tell the others what we learned from Wit, Ivory. Eventually, this secret must be known.”

Am I supposed to know?

“Don’t you see what you’re doing? You’re becoming like us.” The two overseers stared at him, dumbfounded. “You can’t abuse each other,” Moash said. “You can’t.”

“It’s your daughter,” Dalinar guessed. “Her lunacy.” “Jasnah is fine, and recovering. It’s not that.” Gavilar frowned, his expression dangerous.

Hm.

“Words are important,” Gavilar said. “Much more than you give them credit for being.” “Perhaps,” Dalinar said. “But if they were all-powerful, you wouldn’t need my sword, would you?” “Perhaps. I can’t help feeling words would be enough, if only I knew the right ones to say.”

There was something profoundly disconcerting about being out on the ocean, subject to the winds and currents. Men didn’t control the waves, they merely set out and prayed that the ocean didn’t decide to consume them.

Captain Kaladin swooped over. He was the only one who seemed truly in control of his flying. Even his men flew more like dropped rocks than skyeels.

her sketchpad, he caught sight of some kind of shiplike contraption, but with the sail on the bottom. What in the world?

Airship!

In my painful experience, the truth may be simple, but it is rarely easy.”

The world has been turning before our very noses, Captain. Gods and Heralds have been warring, and we were too focused on our petty problems to even notice.”

I just need to be away from this place, Shallan thought. I need to be away from them, and from Jasnah, at least until I can figure out what I want.

You NEED a therapist.

Turned out that the end of the world had to actually arrive before people would take it seriously.

Jasnah’s intermediary would now be joined by two others in Tashikk. Together, the three would be surrounded by six spanreed boards: one each for receiving comments from their masters, and one each to send back the entire conversation in real time, including the comments from the other two. That way, each conversant would be able to see a constant stream of comments, without having to stop and wait before replying.

So...a chat room.

“Why, Jasnah? Why have you always denied me?” “Other than the fact that you are a detestable buffoon who achieves only the lowest level of mediocrity, as it is the best your limited mind can imagine? I can’t possibly think of a reason.”

“You godless whore,” Amaram hissed, releasing her. “If you weren’t a woman…” “If I weren’t a woman, I suspect we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Unless I were a pig. Then you’d be doubly interested.”

Rlain’s people were gone. They had fallen to Alethi swords or had been consumed by the Everstorm, transformed into incarnations of the old listener gods. He was, as far as he knew, the last.

“Drehy likes other guys. That’s like … he wants to be even less around women than the rest of us. It’s the opposite of feminine. He is, you could say, extra manly.” “Yeah,” Drehy said. Kaladin rubbed his forehead, and Rlain empathized.

Dalinar turned around. A man in white and gold stood there. Dalinar jumped, scrambling backward. The man was old, with a wide, furrowed face and bone-white hair that swept back from his head as if blown by wind. Thick mustaches with a hint of black in them blended into a short white beard. He seemed to be Shin, judging by his skin and eyes, and he wore a golden crown in his powdery hair.

The old man’s smile deepened, genuine and kindly. “I’m the other one, Dalinar. They call me Odium.”

Oh, dear.

I am emotion incarnate. I am the soul of the spren and of men. I am lust, joy, hatred, anger, and exultation. I am glory and I am vice. I am the very thing that makes men men. “Honor cared only for bonds. Not the meaning of bonds and oaths, merely that they were kept. Cultivation only wants to see transformation. Growth. It can be good or bad, for all she cares. The pain of men is nothing to her. Only I understand it. Only I care, Dalinar.”

I know, Dalinar Kholin, that you will make the right decision. You will free me.”

I have begun to see the dark sky and the second sun, the creatures that lurk, hidden, around the cities of men.” He shivered visibly. Why should that have frightened him? She’d merely stated facts.

There are those who could pull secrets from your soul, and the cost would be the ends of worlds. Sleep now, Soulcaster. This is the most merciful end I could give.” The cook began to hum. Pieces of her broke off. She crumbled to a pile of chittering little cremlings that moved out of her clothing, leaving it in a heap. A hallucination? Kaza wondered as she drifted. She was dying. Well, that was nothing new.

Today, Taravangian was a storming genius.

Man, fuck this guy.

Was there a way he could prevent any but the most intelligent from learning to read? That would accomplish so much good; it seemed insane that nobody had implemented such a ban, for while Vorinism forbade men to read, that merely prevented an arbitrary half of the population from handling information, when it was the stupid who should be barred.

Obviously the bad guy.

“I won’t make policy decisions, and I’ll avoid ordering the murder of any further groups of melodic children. Fine? All right? Now leave me alone. You’re stinking up the place with an air of contented idiocy.”

Now he’d save the world. Well, the part of the world that mattered.

Damn.

Light and truth. Save what he could. Abandon the rest. Thankfully, he had been given that capacity.

Venli had suffered so much, but this was her reward. She was done with a life spent wasting away under human oppression. She would never again be trapped, impotent. With this new power, she would always, always be able to fight back.

You're cooked, sis.

“Please,” he said. “Please. My surgeons are in Vedenar, an easy trip through the Oathgates. Let me bring them. Let me ease this suffering.”

He wants to steal those words. Weird-ass man.

How does she smile like that? Kaladin wondered.

Lying to herself and avoiding reality.

“Best to be safe. Besides, you scowl at everyone like an old man anyway. You’ll be a great fit.” Kaladin glowered at her. “Perfect! Keep it up.”

He looked like the kind of old rogue you’d find in a pub, with handy tales about the brilliant things he’d done in his youth. The kind of man that made women think they preferred older men, when in reality they just preferred him.

“I’ll do my best, Your Majesty.” “No,” Elhokar said. “You’ll do what I command. Be extraordinary, Captain. Nothing else will suffice.”

The only thing for Shallan to do, then, was punch herself in the face. That was harder than it seemed. She always flinched.

I’ve had Passion for something to happen,

Ominous.

“I need to tell them,” she whispered. “Mmm,” Pattern said. “It’s good. Progress.”