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“Intimidate?” Lopen said, then glanced to Rua, who grew six arms and used all of them to smack his forehead at the stupidity of that idea.
“You missed crawling?” “Sure. I’d lay in bed and think, ‘Lopen, you used to be a majestic crawler. These louts don’t know how good they have it, being able to crawl whenever they want.’
Why was the no-legged Thaylen unhappy? Because she’d been de-feeted.
“Brightness Rysn shouldn’t have to crack jokes at her own expense in order to make other people comfortable with their personal insecurities.” “Yup, true,” the Lopen said. “She shouldn’t have to.”
“Radiant the Lopen,” Rysn said, “. . . um, what do you call a Thaylen who can’t walk?” “Not sure, gancha.” “Names. From afar.” He grinned widely. “Of course,” Rysn added, “I’d never stand for that sort of thing.” The Lopen about died from laughing.
But he got the feeling that the captain was the kind of person who had been born an officer, coming right on out of her mom with a hat on and everything.
“Cousin,” Lopen said, “do you know why it is that people stick you to the wall so often?” “To judge the relative strength of Radiants by oath level, measuring the duration of Lashings against the Stormlight expended.” “It’s because you’re no fun.”
A portal to the land of spren is valuable enough to be worth the trip to the Peaks.”
People talked about wealth, and how greed was such a terrible thing—and it could be dangerous, true. Yet the ambition of someone who had nothing to rise to a new station should not be easily dismissed or thought simplistic. There was so much more to it.
“They wanted to wow us, maybe?” Lopen said. “Perhaps they thought we’d be so distracted by the riches that we’d be stunned and confused. They did not know that I am accustomed to such incredible sights, for I experience something even more impressive each morning after I awake.” “Is that so?” “When I look in the mirror.” “And you wonder why you’re still single.” “Oh, I don’t wonder,” he said. “I’m fully aware that so much of me is difficult for any one woman to handle. My majesty confuses them. It’s the only explanation for why they often run away.”
Not far past these, they entered a small room. It was perhaps fifteen feet square, and Rysn’s eyes were immediately drawn to the incredible mural that dominated the far wall. It depicted a sun being shattered into pieces.
You were brought here, she thought to herself, by one of the Guardians of Ancient Sins. Of course she had been. That made sense. Wait. Did it? Yes, she thought. You were. There are few of them left. And so the Sleepless take up the task.
“Please, gods of the ancient Herdazians,” Lopen whispered. “Don’t let me get killed by a monster that looks so stupid. Please.”
The Dawnshards are Commands, Rysn. The will of a god.”
“The most powerful forms of Surgebinding transcend traditional mortal understanding,” Nikli said. His body began to re-form, hordelings crawling back into place. “All their greatest applications require Intent and a Command. Demands on a level no person could ever manage alone. To make such Commands, one must have the reasoning—the breadth of understanding—of a deity. And so, the Dawnshards. The four primal Commands that created all things.” He paused. “And then eventually, they were used to undo Adonalsium itself.
“I don’t hate you, Lopen,” Huio said. “Who could hate you? It would take a special kind of bitter soul.” “That statement, like the Lopen himself, sounds like it comes with a quite spectacular butt attached.”
Storms. Was it her, or did this tea taste extra good? She inspected it, then glanced at the sunlight pouring through the porthole. Was it . . . brighter than usual? Why did the colors in her room look so exceptionally vivid all of a sudden?
