The Sunlit Man

by Brandon Sanderson

“Lady,” Nomad said, “I’m having a really bad day. If you’re going to scream at me, could you at least do it a little softer?”

Old women? That wasn’t as exciting as he’d hoped. But, hey, maybe one was secretly a dragon.

“I’m offering prayers,” he said, picking a lie he thought might appeal to her, “to one of the ancient gods of my realm.” Please, no, the knight says. I’m no god. I work for a living.

Well, that’s a perfectly normal and reasonable way of thinking, the knight observes sarcastically. I’m sure he’s absolutely the most well-adjusted man on the planet, eh?

“Don’t lie,” he said with a smile. “You like showing off.” I love showing off, the knight exclaims. It feels so good. Why do mortals have taboos against it?

Still. Are you certain you want to be this brash? “What about me makes you think that I’d do anything else?”

Alas, the knight thinks, my sleep-deprived squire has finally lost his mind and is speaking complete gibberish.

It was truth, but one that Nomad had long ago made peace with. You didn’t always get to fight the right people. In fact, you often had to fight the wrong ones—at least until you could stop the men and women who gave the orders.