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October 14 - December 3, 2025
These Blades were weapons of power beyond even Shardblades. These were unique. Precious. Jezrien stood outside the ring of swords, looking eastward. “Jezrien?” The figure in white and blue glanced toward him. Even after all these centuries, Jezrien looked young, like a man barely into his thirtieth year. His short black beard was neatly trimmed, though his once-fine clothing was scorched and stained with blood. He folded his arms behind his back as he turned to Kalak.
“They see us as divinities,” Kalak whispered. “They rely upon us, Jezrien. We’re all that they have.” “They have the Radiants. That will be enough.” Kalak shook his head. “He will not remain bound by this. The enemy. He will find a way around it. You know he will.”
“The love of men is a frigid thing, a mountain stream only three steps from the ice.
Szeth-son-son-Vallano, Truthless of Shinovar, wore white on the day he was to kill a king.
But wine was the great assassin of both tradition and propriety,
White to be bold. White to not blend into the night. White to give warning. For if you were going to assassinate a man, he was entitled to see you coming.
Torches burned on the walls, their light unsatisfying to him, a meal of thin broth after a long fast.
But when weapons created to fight nightmares were turned against common soldiers, the lives of men became cheap things indeed.
Gavilar coughed, hand quivering, reaching toward his chest and fumbling at a pocket. He pulled out a small crystalline sphere tied to a chain. “You must take this. They must not get it.” He seemed dazed. “Tell … tell my brother … he must find the most important words a man can say. …” Gavilar fell still. Szeth hesitated, then knelt down and took the sphere. It was odd, unlike any he’d seen before. Though it was completely dark, it seemed to glow somehow. With a light that was black.
There was a certain power in that, a freedom. The freedom of not having to care.
But expectations were like fine pottery. The harder you held them, the more likely they were to crack.
Words aren’t meant to be kept inside, you see. They are free creatures, and if locked away will unsettle the stomach.”
“Nonsense! Young miss, you’re like a morning sunrise, you are!” “Like a sunrise? By that you mean entirely too crimson”—she pulled at her long red hair—“and prone to making men grouchy when they see me?”
“Be careful with yourself, lass,” the captain warned as she passed. “Even a safe city like Kharbranth hides dangers. Keep your wits about you.” “I should think I’d prefer my wits inside my skull, Captain,” she replied, carefully stepping onto the gangplank. “If I keep them ‘about me’ instead, then someone has gotten entirely too close to my head with a cudgel.”
Their father was dead. And it was vital that remain a secret.
Those winds felt like live things at times. And who was to say they weren’t?
“Ignorance is hardly unusual, Miss Davar. The longer I live, the more I come to realize that it is the natural state of the human mind. There are many who will strive to defend its sanctity and then expect you to be impressed with their efforts.”
Bitterness is repaid more often than kindness.
“Well, I myself find that respect is like manure. Use it where needed, and growth will flourish. Spread it on too thick, and things just start to smell.”
“You learned this,” Kabsal said, lifting up her drawing of Jasnah, “from a book.” “Er … yes?” He looked back at the picture. “I need to read more.”
“That doesn’t make sense, young miss. What more could she want than you?” “Much more, apparently.” “But you’re perfect! Pardon my forwardness.” “You’re walking backward.” “Pardon my backwardness, then. You look good from any side, young miss, that you do.”
“I can see you are a woman of discriminating taste.” “I am,” Shallan said, voice firm though her heart fluttered. Was she destined to get into an argument with everyone she met? “I do like my meals prepared very carefully, as my palate is quite delicate.” “Pardon. I meant that you have discriminating taste in books.” “I’ve never eaten one, actually.” “Brightness, I believe you are having sport with me.” “Not yet I’m not. I haven’t even really begun.” “I—” “Now,” she said, “you were right to compare the mind and the stomach.” “But—” “Too many of us,” she said, “take great pains with what we
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“Brightness … I believe you stray into sarcasm.” “Funny. I thought I’d run straight into it, screaming at the top of my lungs.”
But we are each many different people, and you can tell much about a person by what they carry with them.
“My father used to say that there are two kinds of people in the world,” Kaladin whispered, voice raspy. “He said there are those who take lives. And there are those who save lives.” Syl frowned, cocking her head. This kind of conversation confused her; she wasn’t good with abstractions. “I used to think he was wrong. I thought there was a third group. People who killed in order to save.” He shook his head. “I was a fool. There is a third group, a big one, but it isn’t what I thought.” “What group?” she said, sitting down on his knee, brow scrunched up. “The people who exist to be saved or to
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can’t keep going like this, he thought. I’m dead inside, as sure as if I’d taken a spear through the neck.
Don’t dream the small dreams of other men.
No, this place wasn’t natural. The land had been broken. And now it broke the people who came to it.
Why was it that scientists were so excited to discover facts that farmers had known for generations and generations?
the boundaries of nature were far more important than the boundaries of nations.
He didn’t bother wondering why they were looking for this Hoid, whoever he was.
What did you do, as a son, when the father you loved—the greatest man alive—started to lose his wits?
Dalinar looked up. From this height, he could scan a large swath of the Shattered Plains, and he had an odd moment of familiarity. He felt as if he’d been atop this vantage point before, looking down at a broken landscape.
he’s not the first man I’ve known who will face battle without fear, yet cower in terror about knives in the shadows. The hallmark of insecurity is bravado.
“Those who ‘deserve’ my mockery are those who can benefit from it, Brightlord Dalinar. That one is less fragile than you think him.”
I realize that you are probably still angry. That is pleasant to know. Much as your perpetual health, I have come to rely upon your dissatisfaction with me. It is one of the cosmere’s great constants, I should think.
“Scared to go onward,” Kaladin said, “but terrified to go back to what you were.”
“Sometimes,” Dalinar said, “the prize is not worth the costs. The means by which we achieve victory are as important as the victory itself.”
“Brightlord Sadeas,” Wit said, taking a sip of wine. “I’m terribly sorry to see you here.” “I should think,” Sadeas said dryly, “that you would be happy to see me. I seem always to provide you with such entertainment.” “That is unfortunately true,” Wit said. “Unfortunately?” “Yes. You see, Sadeas, you make it too easy. An uneducated, half-brained serving boy with a hangover could make mock of you. I am left with no need to exert myself, and your very nature makes mockery of my mockery. And so it is that through sheer stupidity you make me look incompetent.” “Really, Elhokar,” Sadeas said.
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I shall offer you this, Sadeas. If you can speak, yet say nothing ridiculous, I will leave you alone for the rest of the week.” “Well, I think that shouldn’t be too difficult.” “And yet you failed,” Wit said, sighing. “For you said ‘I think’ and I can imagine nothing so ridiculous as the concept of you thinking.
How did one respond to that? You hate him, but you ask me not to?
Not because they sympathized with him, but because they feared the momentum of his steps. You dare not impede one such as this.
If a king is seen to assume the burden of the poorest of men, perhaps there will be those who will help him with his own load, so invisible, yet so daunting.
Kal found himself smiling. “That’s nice, Tien.” He moved to hand the rock back. Tien shook his head. “I found it for you. To make you feel better.” “I …” It was just a stupid rock. Yet, inexplicably, Kal did feel better.
“And a dun sphere at that.” Kaladin frowned. He was sure it had still glowed before the bridge run. “That’s your fault. You gave it to me.” “Those spheres were newly infused last night,” Gaz said. “They came straight from Brightlord Sadeas’s treasurer. What did you do with them?”
We remember the good times and the bad ones, forgetting that most times are neither good nor bad. They just are.”
“Care for yourself, Wit,” Dalinar said. “This lot won’t suffer you forever. I wouldn’t see you dead by their knives; I see a fine man within you.” “Yes,” Wit said, scanning the platform. “He tasted quite delicious. Dalinar, I fear I’m not the one who needs that warning. Speak your fears at a mirror a few times when you get home tonight. There are rumors about.” “Rumors?” “Yes. Terrible things. Grow on men like warts.” “Tumors?” “Both.
“Tradition is the blind witness they use to condemn us,
“Wait,” Teft said. “You put chull dung in Highprince Sadeas’s soup?” “Er, yes,” Rock said. “Actually, I put this thing in his bread too. And used it as a garnish on the pork steak. And made a chutney out of it for the buttered garams. Chull dung, it has many uses, I found.” Teft laughed, his voice echoing. He fell on his side, so amused that Kaladin was afraid he’d roll right into the chasm. “Horneater,” Teft finally said, “I owe you a drink.”
And yet, scholars said it must be a plant for the way it grew and reached toward the light. Men did that too, he thought. Once.
