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January 17 - January 22, 2023
“When Aimia fell,” he explained, “the Na-Alind—a family among the greatshelled gods of the Reshi—took in the last of the larkin. Greatshells do not think or speak like people do, and the ways of our gods are strange. But best we can tell, there was a promise among them. To protect these, their cousins.
Most of Rysn’s contemporaries entered a discussion asking, “What can I get from this?” Rysn had been disabused of that notion early in her training. Her babsk taught a different way of seeing the world, training her to ask, “What need can I fulfill?”
“There is . . . something on that island,” Navani said. “Something that is able to undermine the powers of the Knights Radiant. My soldiers reported seeing swarms of small shadows darting through the clouds. And legends about Aimia speak of mythical creatures that feed off Stormlight.” Reflexively, Rysn glanced toward the palanquin and Chiri-Chiri inside. Navani watched her, calm, her lips cocked slightly to the side. She knew. Well, of course she did. Rysn hadn’t tried to keep Chiri-Chiri hidden—and the little larkin wouldn’t have let her if she had.
Arclomedarian crosses us again, said Yelamaiszin, the First. It meddles more and more. It has met with these new Radiants.
The person lift met at the orphanage
It hurts us to kill Radiants, let alone one of the Sighted, said Yelamaiszin, the First.
Cord, who, like her father, could see all spren.
Sighted. Rock's daughter
The others called him silly, but he thought the different colors tasted different.
“Cord,” he said, “your father. Is he really in danger because of what he did? Saving Kaladin? Killing Amaram?”
recall that rock killed amaram
The large marine creatures were incredibly rare. She had believed them extinct, but had enjoyed stories from her babsk about them. They supposedly rescued drowning sailors, or trailed ships for days, improving the moods of those on board. More spren than animal, they were somehow able to magnify peace and confidence.
The Peaks have a portal, Rysn. A gateway. A path to the world of gods and spren.”
“This is fake too, isn’t it?” he said. “What makes you say that?” Rushu asked. “Well, the Oathgate on the Shattered Plains sat there, sure, for thousands of years—and it still worked when we found it. This place is better preserved. But here, the Oathgate mechanism has disintegrated?”
“Cord?” Rysn whispered, trembling. “What is happening?” “I did not realize . . .” Cord whispered in Veden. “The Gods Who Sleep Not . . . they can appear as people.” “Do you know how to fight one?” “I told you, you cannot,” Cord said. “Lunu’anaki—he is trickster god—warned of them during my grandmother’s time when she was the watcher of the pool.” “We had not expected to find one of the Sighted on this trip,” Nikli said in Veden. “You have long guarded Cultivation’s Perpendicularity. It is regrettable that you joined this expedition. We do not kill your people lightly, Hualinam’lunanaki’akilu.”
It depicted a sun being shattered into pieces.
That mural . . . it was circular and—inlaid with golden foil—it seemed to glow with its own light. The writing on parts of it was unfamiliar to Rysn; she hadn’t seen the script during any of her travels. It wasn’t even the Dawnchant. The peculiar letters were art themselves, curling around the outside of the exploding sun—which was divided into mostly symmetrical pieces. Four of them, each in turn broken into four smaller sections.
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.
