Oathbringer: Book Three of the Stormlight Archive

Possession of these gems changed frequently, but it was all done with numbers in a ledger. It was a quirk of the Thaylen system of underwriting trades; as long as everyone was confident that these gemstones were here, large sums could change hands without risk of anything being stolen.

Each gemstone was carefully annotated with numbers inscribed both on a plate glued to its bottom and on the rack that held it. Those numbers were what people bought and sold—Rysn was shocked by how few people actually asked to come down and view the thing they were trading to own.

“0013017-36!” Vstim said. “The Benval Diamond! I owned that way back when. Memorized the number even. Huh. You know, it’s smaller than I thought it would be.”

She and the two guards led Vstim to the back wall, which held a series of smaller metal vault doors. The main vault behind them was silent; no other scribes were working today, though Chiri-Chiri did flit past. She hovered down toward the queen’s guardsman—eyeing the spheres on his belt—but Rysn snatched her from the air.

Chiri-Chiri griped, buzzing her wings against Rysn’s hand and clicking. Rysn blushed, but held tight. “Sorry.”

“Must be like a buffet for her down here!” Tlik said.

“A buffet of empty plates,” Rysn said. “Keep an eye on your belt, Tlik.”

The two guards set her chair down near a specific vault. With her free hand, Rysn dug a key from her pocket and handed it to Vstim. “Go ahead. Vault Thirteen.”

Vstim unlocked and swung open the smaller vault-within-the-vault, which was roughly the size of a closet.

Light poured from it.

The shelves inside were filled with gemstones, spheres, jewelry, and even some mundane objects like letters and an old knife. But the most stunning item in the collection was obviously the large ruby on the center shelf. The size of a child’s head, it glowed brightly.

The King’s Drop. Gemstones of its size weren’t unheard of—most greatshells had gemhearts as big. What made the King’s Drop unique was that it was still glowing—over two hundred years after being first locked into the vault.

Vstim touched it with one finger. The light shone with such brilliance that the room seemed almost to be in daylight, though shaded bloodred by the gemstone’s color.

“Amazing,” Vstim whispered.

“As far as scholars can tell,” Rysn said, “the King’s Drop never loses its Stormlight. A stone this large should have run out after a month. It’s something about the crystal lattice, the lack of flaws and imperfections.”

“They say it’s a chunk off the Stone of Ten Dawns.”

“Another story?” Rysn said. “You are a romantic.”

Her former babsk smiled, then placed a cloth shade over the gemstone to reduce its glare so it wouldn’t interfere with their work. He opened his ledger. “Let’s start with the smaller gemstones and work our way up, shall we?”

Rysn nodded.

The queen’s guard killed Tlik.

He did it with a knife, right into the neck. Tlik dropped without a word, though the sound of the knife being ripped free shocked Rysn. The treacherous guard knocked against her chair, toppling her over as he slashed at Vstim.

The enemy underestimated the merchant’s spryness. Vstim dodged backward into the queen’s vault, screaming, “Murder! Robbery! Raise the alarm!”

Rysn untangled herself from her toppled chair and, panicked, pulled herself away by her arms, dragging legs like cordwood. The murderer reached into the vault to deal with her babsk, and she heard a grunt.

A moment later, the traitor stepped out, carrying a large red light in his hand. The King’s Drop, shining brightly enough despite its black wrapping cloth. Rysn caught a glimpse of Vstim collapsed on the floor inside the vault, holding his side.

The traitor kicked the door closed—locking the old merchant away. He glanced toward her.

And a crossbow bolt hit him.

“Thief in the vault!” Fladm’s voice said. “Alarm!”

Rysn pulled herself to a row of gemstone racks. Behind her, the thief took a second crossbow bolt, but didn’t seem to notice. How …

The thief stepped over and picked up poor Tlik’s crossbow. Footsteps and calls indicated that several guards from the lower level had heard Fladm, and were coming up the steps. The thief fired the crossbow once down a nearby row, and a shout of pain from Fladm indicated it had connected. Another guardsman arrived a second later and attacked the thief with his sword.

He should have run for help! Rysn thought as she huddled by the shelf. The thief took a cut along the face from the sword, then set his prize down and caught the guard’s arm. The two struggled, and Rysn watched the cut on the thief’s face reknit.

He was healing? Could … could this man be a Knight Radiant?

Rysn’s eyes flicked toward the large ruby the thief had set down. Four more guards joined the fight, obviously assuming they could subdue one man on their own.

Sit back. Let them handle it.

Chiri-Chiri suddenly darted past, ignoring the combatants and making for the glowing gemstone. Rysn lunged forward—well, more flopped forward—to grab at the larkin, but missed. Chiri-Chiri landed on the cloth containing the enormous ruby.

Nearby, the thief stabbed one of the guards. Rysn winced at the awful sight of their struggle, lit by the ruby, then crawled forward—dragging her legs—and snatched the gemstone.

Chiri-Chiri clicked at her in annoyance as Rysn dragged the ruby with her around the corner. Another guard screamed. They were dropping quickly.

Have to do something. Can’t just sit here, can I?

Rysn clutched the gemstone and looked down the row between shelves. An impossible distance, hundreds of feet, to the corridor and the exit. The door was locked, but she could call through the communication slot for help.

But why? If five guards couldn’t handle the thief, what could one crippled woman do?

My babsk is locked in the queen’s vault. Bleeding.

She looked down the long row again, then used the cord Vstim had given her to tie the ruby’s cloth closed around it, and attached it to her ankle so she wouldn’t have to carry it. Then she started pulling herself along the shelves. Chiri-Chiri rode behind on the ruby, and its light dimmed. Everyone else was struggling for their lives, but the little larkin was feasting.

Rysn made faster progress than she had expected to, though soon her arms began to ache. Behind, the fighting stilled, the last guard’s shout cutting off.

Rysn redoubled her efforts, pulling herself along toward the exit, reaching the alcove where they’d left her chair. Here, she found blood.

Fladm lay at the threshold of the entry corridor, a bolt in him, his own crossbow on the floor beside him. Rysn collapsed a couple of feet from him, muscles burning. Spheres on his belt illuminated her chair and the steps down to the lower vault level. No more help would be coming from down there.

Past Fladm’s body, the corridor led to the door out. “Help!” she shouted. “Thief!”

She thought she heard voices on the other side, through the communication slot. But … it would take the guards outside time to get it open, as they didn’t know all three codes. Maybe that was good. The thief couldn’t get out until they opened it, right?