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December 22 - December 24, 2020
Dalinar realized something. He understood what was being said. The accent was nearly impenetrable, but the words were in Alethi. “It is you,” the Parshendi Shardbearer said. “I have found you at last.”
“Neshua Kadal!” They passed it among themselves, whispering, looking confused.
“I had only two regrets. One for you, and one for Renarin.” “So, you’re saying you can just die, and it would be all right?” “No,” he said. “What I’m saying is that I faced eternity, and I saw peace there. That will change how I live.”
“Being me, I doubt I’ll banish it entirely. The end was peace, but living … that is a tempest. Still, I see things differently now. It is time to stop letting myself be shoved around by lying men.”
“The Blade,” Dalinar said, firm voice carrying in the air. “In exchange for your bridgemen. All of them. Every one you have in camp. They become mine, to do with as I please, never to be touched by you again. In exchange, you get the sword.”
“What is a man’s life worth?” Dalinar asked softly. “The slavemasters say one is worth about two emerald broams,” Kaladin said, frowning. “And what do you say?” “A life is priceless,” he said immediately, quoting his father. Dalinar smiled, wrinkle lines extending from the corners of his eyes. “Coincidentally, that is the exact value of a Shardblade. So today, you and your men sacrificed to buy me twenty-six hundred priceless lives. And all I had to repay you with was a single priceless sword. I call that a bargain.”
Freedom of bridge man / Interaction between Kaladin and Dalinar
King Taravangian was no simpleton. He had keen eyes and a wise, knowing face, rimmed with a full white beard, the mustaches drooping like arrow points. “You have seen what death and murder do to a man. You could say, Szeth-son-son-Vallano, that you bear great sins for your people. You understand what they cannot. And so you have truth.”
“How does that help stability?” “Sometimes,” Taravangian said, “you must tear down a structure to build a new one with stronger walls.” He turned around, looking out over the ocean. “And we are going to need strong walls in the coming years. Very, very strong walls.”
others do not,” Taravangian said. “But the dying see something. It began seven years ago, about the time when King Gavilar was investigating the Shattered Plains for the first time.” His eyes grew distant. “It is coming, and these people see it. On that bridge between life and the endless ocean of death, they view something. Their words might save us.”
“We didn’t destroy the Voidbringers,” Jasnah said from behind, her voice haunted. “We enslaved them.”
Kaladin said. “But these soldiers I train, I want them assigned to patrolling, not plateau runs. I hear you’ve had several full battalions hunting bandits, keeping the peace in the Outer Market, that sort of thing. That’s where my men go for one year, at least.”
Twenty-seven men lived. He’d finally managed to save someone. For now, that was enough.
The figure was silent for a moment. Then he spoke in a clear, crisp voice. “Life before death. Strength before weakness. Journey before destination. Speak again the ancient oaths and return to men the Shards they once bore.”
“I am … I was … God. The one you call the Almighty, the creator of mankind.” The figure closed his eyes. “And now I am dead. Odium has killed me. I am sorry.”
“You think I’m a cynic,” Wit said. “You think I’m going to tell you that men claim to value these ideals, but secretly prefer base talents. The ability to gather coin or to charm women. Well, I am a cynic, but in this case, I actually think those scholars were honest. Their answers speak for the souls of men. In our hearts, we want to believe in—and would choose—great accomplishment and virtue. That’s why our lies, particularly to ourselves, are so beautiful.”
“in the end, what must we determine? Is it the intellect of a genius that we revere? If it were their artistry, the beauty of their mind, would we not laud it regardless of whether we’d seen their product before?
“Run! Raise the call! Give the warning!” “Who are you?” one of the guards forced out. “What warning? Who attacks?” The man paused. He raised a hand to his head, wavering. “Who am I? I … I am Talenel’Elin, Stonesinew, Herald of the Almighty. The Desolation has come. Oh, God … it has come. And I have failed.”
“What is it we value?” Wit whispered. “Innovation. Originality. Novelty. But most importantly … timeliness. I fear you may be too late, my confused, unfortunate friend.”
