Oathbringer: Book Three of the Stormlight Archive

It was a varied group; the Skybreakers didn’t seem to care for ethnicity or eye color. Szeth was the only Shin among them, but the others included Makabaki, Reshi, Vorins, Iriali, and even one Thaylen.

A tall, strong man in a Marabethian wrap and an Azish coat hefted himself from his seat on a porch. “It took you long enough!” he said in Azish, striding toward them. “I sent for you hours ago! The convicts have escaped into the lake; who knows how far they’ve gotten by now! They will kill again if not stopped. Find and deal with them—you’ll know them by the tattoos on their foreheads.”

The masters turned to the squires and hopefuls; some of the more eager among them immediately went running toward the water. Several that could Lash took to the sky.

Szeth lingered, along with four of the others. He stepped up to Ki, in her shoulder cloak of a high judge of Marabethia.

“How did this man know to send for us?” Szeth asked.

“We have been expanding our influence, following the advent of the new storm,” she replied. “The local monarchs have accepted us as a unifying martial force, and have given us legal authority. The city’s high minister wrote to us via spanreed, pleading for help.”

“And these convicts?” a squire asked. “What do we know of them, and our duty here?”

“This group of convicts escaped the prison there along the cliffs. The report says they are dangerous murderers. Your task is to find the guilty and execute them. We have writs ordering their deaths.”

“All of those who escaped are guilty?”

“They are.”

At that, several of the other squires left, hurrying to prove themselves. Still, Szeth lingered. Something about the situation bothered him. “If these men are murderers, why were they not executed before?”

“This area is populated by Reshi idealists, Szeth-son-Neturo,” Ki said. “They have a strange, nonviolent attitude, even toward criminals. This town is charged with holding prisoners from all across the region, and Minister Kwati is paid tribute to maintain these facilities. Now that the murderers have escaped, mercy is withdrawn. They are to be executed.”

That was enough for the last two squires, who took to the sky to begin their search. And Szeth supposed it was enough for him as well.

These are Skybreakers, he thought. They wouldn’t knowingly send us after innocents. He could have taken their implied approval at the start. Yet … something bothered him. This was a test, but of what? Was it merely about the speed with which they could dispatch the guilty?

He started toward the waters.

“Szeth-son-Neturo,” Ki called to him.

“Yes?”

“You walk on stone. Why is this? Each Shin I have known calls stone holy, and refuses to set foot on it.”

“It cannot be holy. If it truly were, Master Ki, it would have burned me away long ago.” He nodded to her, then stepped into the Purelake.

The water was warmer than he’d remembered. It wasn’t deep at all— reportedly, even in the very center of the lake the water wouldn’t reach higher than a man’s thighs, save for the occasional sinkhole.

You are far behind those others, the sword said. You’re never going to catch anyone at this rate.

“I knew a voice like yours once, sword-nimi.”

The whispers?

“No. A single one, in my mind, when I was young.” Szeth shaded his eyes, looking across the glistening lake. “I hope things go better this time.”

The flying squires would catch anyone in the open, so Szeth would need to search for less obvious criminals. He only needed one …

One? the sword said. You’re not being ambitious enough.

“Perhaps. Sword-nimi, do you know why you were given to me?”

Because you needed help. I’m good at helping.

“But why me?” Szeth continued trudging through the water. “Nin said I was never to let you leave my presence.”

It seemed like more of a burden than an aid. Yes, the sword was a Shardblade—but one he’d been cautioned about drawing.

The Purelake seemed to extend forever, wide as an ocean. Szeth’s steps startled schools of fish, which would follow behind him for a bit, occasionally nipping at his boots. Gnarled trees poked from the shallows, gorging themselves on the water while their roots grasped the many holes and furrows in the lake bed. Rock outcrops broke the lake near the coast, but inward the Purelake grew placid, more empty.

Szeth turned parallel to the shore.

You’re not going the same way as the others.

That was true.

Honestly, Szeth, I have to be frank. You aren’t good at slaying evil. We haven’t killed anyone while you’ve held me.

“I wonder, sword-nimi. Did Nin-son-God give you to me so I could practice resisting your encouragements, or because he saw me as equally bloodthirsty? He did call us a good match.”

I’m not bloodthirsty, the sword said immediately. I just want to be useful.

“And not bored?”

Well, that too. The sword made some soft hums, imitating a human deep in thought. You say you killed many people before we met. But the whispers … you didn’t take pleasure in destroying those who needed to be destroyed?

“I am not convinced that they needed to be destroyed.”

You killed them.

“I was sworn to obey.”

By a magic rock.

He had explained his past to the sword several times now. For some reason, it had difficulty understanding—or remembering—certain things. “The Oathstone had no magic. I obeyed because of honor, and I sometimes obeyed evil or petty men. Now I seek a higher ideal.”

But what if you pick the wrong thing to follow? Couldn’t you end up in the same place again? Can’t you just find evil, then destroy it?

“And what is evil, sword-nimi?”

I’m sure you can spot it. You seem smart. If increasingly kind of boring.

Would that he could continue in such monotony.

Nearby, a large twisted tree rose from the bank. Several of the leaves along one branch were pulled in, seeking refuge inside the bark; someone had disturbed them. Szeth didn’t give overt indication that he’d noticed, but angled his walk so that he stepped beneath the tree. Part of him hoped the man hiding in the tree had the sense to stay hidden.

He did not. The man leaped for Szeth, perhaps tempted by the prospect of obtaining a fine weapon.

Szeth sidestepped, but without Lashings he felt slow, awkward. He escaped the slashes of the convict’s improvised dagger, but was forced back toward the water.

Finally! the sword said. All right, here’s what you have to do. Fight him and win, Szeth.

The criminal rushed him. Szeth caught the hand with the dagger, twisting to use the man’s own momentum to send him stumbling into the lake.

Recovering, the man turned toward Szeth, who was trying to read what he could from the man’s ragged, sorry appearance. Matted, shaggy hair. Reshi skin bearing many lesions. The poor fellow was so filthy, beggars and street urchins would find him distasteful company.