Oathbringer (The Stormlight Archive #3)

“All Radiants have an attachment to Shadesmar,” Jasnah said. “Our spren originate there, and our bond ties us to them. But my order has special control over moving between realms. I was able to shift to Shadesmar to escape my would-be assassins.”

“And that helped with the knife in your storming chest?”

“No,” Jasnah said. “But surely by now you’ve learned the value of a little Stormlight when it comes to bodily wounds?”

Of course she had, and she could probably have guessed all of this. But for some reason she didn’t want to accept that. She wanted to remain annoyed at Jasnah.

“My true difficulty was not escaping, but returning,” Jasnah said. “My powers make it easy to transfer to Shadesmar, but getting back to this realm is no small feat. I had to find a transfer point—a place where Shadesmar and our realm touch—which is far, far more difficult than one might assume. It’s like … going downhill one way, but uphill to get back.”

Well, perhaps her return would take some pressure off Shallan. Jasnah could be “Brightness Radiant” and Shallan could be … well, whatever she was.

“We will need to converse further,” Jasnah said. “I would hear the exact story, from your perspective, of the discovery of Urithiru. And I assume you have sketches of the transformed parshmen? That will tell us much. I … believe I once disparaged the usefulness of your artistic skill. I now find reason to call myself foolish for that presumption.”

“It’s fine, Brightness,” Shallan said with a sigh, still sketching the pillar. “I can get you those things, and there is a lot to talk about.” But how much of it would she be able to say? How would Jasnah react, for instance, to finding that Shallan had been dealing with the Ghostbloods?

It’s not like you’re really a part of their organization, Shallan thought to herself. If anything, you’re using them for information. Jasnah might find that admirable.

Shallan still wasn’t eager to broach the topic.

“I feel lost…” Jasnah said.

Shallan looked up from her sketchbook to find the woman regarding the pillar again, speaking softly, as if to herself.

“For years I was at the very forefront of all this,” Jasnah said. “One short stumble, and I find myself scrambling to stay afloat. These visions that my uncle is having … the refounding of the Radiants in my absence …

“That Windrunner. What do you think of him, Shallan? I find him much as I imagined his order, but I have only met him once. It has all come so quickly. After years of struggling in the shadows, everything coming to light—and despite my years of study—I understand so very little.”

Shallan continued her sketch. It was nice to be reminded that, for all their differences, there were occasional things that she and Jasnah shared.

She just wished that ignorance weren’t at the top of the list.





I noticed its arrival immediately, just as I noticed your many intrusions into my land.

It is time, the Stormfather said.

All went dark around Dalinar, and he entered a place between his world and the visions. A place with a black sky and an infinite floor of bone-white rock. Shapes made of smoke seeped through the stone ground, then rose around him, dissipating. Common things. A chair, a vase, a rockbud. Sometimes people.

I HAVE HER. The Stormfather’s voice shook this place, eternal and vast. THE THAYLEN QUEEN. MY STORM HITS HER CITY NOW.

“Good,” Dalinar said. “Please give her the vision.”

Fen was to see the vision with the Knights Radiant falling from the sky, come to deliver a small village from a strange and monstrous force. Dalinar wanted her to see the Knights Radiant firsthand, as they had once been. Righteous, protecting.

WHERE SHALL I PUT HER? the Stormfather asked.

“The same place you put me my first time,” Dalinar said. “In the home. With the family.”

AND YOU?

“I’ll observe, then talk to her after.”

YOU MUST BE PART OF EVENTS, the Stormfather said, sounding stubborn. YOU MUST TAKE THE ROLE OF SOMEONE. THIS IS HOW IT WORKS.

“Fine. Pick someone. But if possible, make Fen see me as myself, and let me see her.” He felt at the side sword he wore at his belt. “And can you let me keep this? I’d rather not have to fight with a poker again.”

The Stormfather rumbled in annoyance, but did not object. The place of endless white stone faded.

“What was that place?” Dalinar asked.

IT IS NO PLACE.

“But everything else in these visions is real,” Dalinar said. “So why is it that—”

IT IS NO PLACE, the Stormfather insisted firmly.

Dalinar fell silent, letting himself be taken by the vision.

I IMAGINED IT, the Stormfather said more softly, as if he were admitting something embarrassing. ALL THINGS HAVE A SOUL. A VASE, A WALL, A CHAIR. AND WHEN A VASE IS BROKEN, IT MIGHT DIE IN THE PHYSICAL REALM, BUT FOR A TIME ITS SOUL REMEMBERS WHAT IT WAS. SO ALL THINGS DIE TWICE. ITS FINAL DEATH IS WHEN MEN FORGET IT WAS A VASE, AND THINK ONLY OF THE PIECES. I IMAGINE THE VASE FLOATING AWAY THEN, ITS FORM DISSOLVING INTO THE NOTHINGNESS.

Dalinar had never heard anything so philosophical from the Stormfather. He hadn’t imagined it was possible that a spren—even a mighty one of the highstorms—could dream in such a way.

Dalinar found himself hurtling through the air.

Flailing his arms, he shouted in panic. First moon’s violet light bathed the ground far below. His stomach lurched and his clothes flapped in the wind. He continued yelling until he realized that he wasn’t actually getting closer to the ground.

He wasn’t falling, he was flying. The air was rushing against the top of his head, not his face. Indeed, now he saw that his body was glowing, Stormlight streaming off him. He didn’t feel like he was holding it though—no raging inside his veins, no urge to action.

He shielded his face from the wind and looked forward. A Radiant flew ahead, resplendent in blue armor that glowed, the light brightest at the edges and in the grooves. The man was looking back at Dalinar, doubtless because of his cries.

Dalinar saluted him to indicate he was all right. The armored man nodded, looking forward again.

He’s a Windrunner, Dalinar thought, piecing it together. I’ve taken the place of his companion, a female Radiant. He’d seen these two in the vision before; they were flying to save the village. Dalinar wasn’t moving under his own power—the Windrunner had Lashed the female Radiant into the sky, as Szeth had done to Dalinar during the Battle of Narak.

It was still difficult to accept that he wasn’t falling, and a sinking feeling persisted in the pit of his stomach. He tried to focus on other things. He was wearing an unfamiliar brown uniform, though he was glad to note that he had his side sword as requested. But why didn’t he have on Shardplate? In the vision, the woman had worn a set that glowed amber. Was this the result of the Stormfather trying to make him look like himself to Fen?