Oathbringer (The Stormlight Archive #3)

She did, eager to get to the center. However, just past the first building, she reached the revel—and had to stop to take it in. A bonfire burned right on the ground, flames crackling and whipping in the wind, bathing Veil in heat. Corrupted flamespren, vivid blue and somehow more jagged, danced inside of it. Tables lined the walkway here, piled with food. Candied meats, stacks of flatbread crusted with sugar, fruits and pastries.

A variety of people passed by, occasionally scooping food off the tables with their bare hands. They laughed and shouted. Many had been ardents, marked by brown robes. Others were lighteyes, though their clothing had … decayed? It seemed a fitting word for these suits with missing jackets, havah dresses whose skirts were ragged from brushing the ground. Safehand sleeves ripped off at the shoulder and discarded somewhere.

They moved like fish in a school, flowing from right to left. She picked out soldiers, both lighteyed and dark, in the remnants of uniforms. They seemed to take no note of her or Kharat standing to the side.

She’d have to cut through the stream of people to get farther inward to the Oathgate control building. She started to do so, but Kharat took her by the arm, steering her to join the flow of people.

“We have to stay to the outer ring,” he said. “No going inward for us, nope. Be happy. You get … you get to enjoy the end of the world in style.…”

She reluctantly let herself be pulled along. It was probably best to do a round of the platform anyway. However, not long after starting, she began to hear the voice.

Let go.

Give up your pain.

Feast. Indulge.

Embrace the end.

Pattern hummed on her coat, his sound lost to the many people laughing and drinking. Kharat stuck his fingers into some kind of creamy dessert, taking it by the handful. His eyes had glazed over, and he muttered to himself as he pushed the food into his mouth. Though others laughed and even danced, most showed that same glassy look.

She could feel Pattern’s vibrations on her coat. It seemed to counteract the voices, clearing her head. Kharat handed her a cup of wine he’d scooped from a table. Who set this all up? Where were the servants?

There was just so much food. Tables and tables of it. People moved in buildings they passed, engaging in other carnal delights. Veil tried to slip across the stream of revelers, but Kharat kept hold of her.

“Everyone wants to go inward their first time,” he said. “You aren’t allowed. Enjoy this. Enjoy the feeling. It’s not our fault, right? We didn’t fail her. We were only doing what she asked. Don’t cause a storm, girl. Nobody wants that.…”

He hung on to Veil’s arm. So instead she waited until they passed another building, and tugged him that way.

“Going to find a partner?” he asked, numb. “Sure. That’s allowed. Assuming you can find anyone still sober enough to care…”

They entered the building, which had once been a place for meditation, filled with individual rooms. It smelled sharply of incense, and each alcove had its own brazier for burning prayers. Those were now occupied for another sort of experience.

“I just want to rest a moment,” she told Kharat, peeking into an empty room. It had a window. She could slip out that, maybe. “It’s all so overwhelming.”

“Oh.” He looked over his shoulder toward the revel passing outside. His left hand was still coated with sweet paste.

Veil stepped into the chamber. When he tried to follow, she said, “I need a moment alone.”

“I’m supposed to keep watch on you,” he said, and prevented her from closing the door.

“Then watch,” she said and settled down on the bench inside the cell. “From a distance.”

He sighed and sat down on the floor of the hallway.

Now what? A new face, she thought. What did he name me? Kishi. It meant Mystery. She used a Memory she’d drawn earlier in the day, that of a woman from the market. In her mind, Shallan added touches to the clothing. A havah, ragged like the others, an exposed safehand.

It would do. She wished she could sketch it, but she could make this work. Now, what to do about her guard?

He probably hears voices, she thought. I can use that. She pressed her hand to Pattern, and wove sound.

“Go,” she whispered, “hang on the wall of the hallway outside, next to him.”

Pattern softly hummed his reply. She closed her eyes, and could faintly hear the words she’d woven to be whispered near Kharat.

Indulge.

Get something to drink.

Join the revel.

“You going to just sit there?” Kharat called in to her.

“Yes.”

“I’m going to get something to drink. Don’t leave.”

“Fine.”

He rose, then jogged out. By the time he got back, she had attached an illusion of Veil to a ruby mark, then left it there. It showed Veil resting on the bench, eyes closed, snoring softly.

Kishi passed Kharat in the hallway, stepping with glassy eyes. He didn’t spare her a second glance, and instead settled down in the hallway with a large cup of wine to watch Veil.

Kishi joined the revel outside. A man there laughed and grabbed at her safehand, as if to pull her toward one of the rooms. Kishi dodged him and slipped farther inward, flowing through the stream of people. This “outer ring” seemed to round the entire Oathgate platform.

The secrets were farther toward the center. Nobody forbade Kishi as she left the flow of the outer ring, stepping between two buildings, heading inward.

*

The others stopped their small talk, and the officers’ table grew very still as Kaladin settled down across from Azure.

The highmarshal laced her gloved hands before herself. “Kal, was it?” she said. “The lighteyed man with slave brands. How are you finding your time in the Wall Guard?”

“It’s a well-run army, sir, and strangely welcoming of one such as myself.” He then nodded over the highmarshal’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen someone treat a Shardblade so casually. You just hang it on a peg?”



The others at the table watched with obviously held breaths.

“I’m not particularly worried about anyone taking her,” Azure said. “I trust these men.”

“It’s still remarkable,” Kaladin said. “Foolhardy, even.”

Across the table, two places down from Azure, Lieutenant Noro raised his hands silently toward Kaladin in a pleading way. Don’t screw this up, Kal!

But Azure smiled. “I never did get an explanation for that shash brand, soldier.”

“I never gave a proper one, sir,” Kaladin said. “I’m not fond of the memories that earned me the scar.”

“How did you end up in this city?” Azure asked. “Sadeas’s lands are far to the north. There are several armies of Voidbringers between here and there, by report.”

“I flew. How about you, sir? You couldn’t have been in the city long before the siege began; nobody talks of you earlier than that time. They say you appeared right when the Guard needed you.”

“Perhaps I was always here, but merely blended in.”

“With those scars? They may not spell out danger as explicitly as mine, but they’d have been memorable.”

The rest of the table—lieutenants and the platoon captain—stared at Kaladin slack-jawed. Perhaps he was pushing too hard, acting too far above his station.

He’d never been good at acting his station though.