Dawnshard Page 13

  “There’s money,” Lopen said, waving toward the diamond gemhearts with his spear, “lying on the storming ground.”

  “Yes, curious,” Rushu said.

  “Dead . . . place?” Huio said. “Place of dead?” He cursed softly in Herdazian, trying to find the right Alethi words.

  “Oh!” Rushu said. “I’ll bet this is a place where greatshells come to die. I’ve read of that sort of thing. I’ll have to write to Brightness Shallan; she studies greatshell life cycles.”

  Kstled walked up, his back straight as the ship’s mast, a barbed spear over his shoulder and a shortsword at his waist. “I suppose,” he said, gesturing to the riches, “these are cursed, and I should forbid my men from indulging?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Rushu said, writing something in her notebook. “We’re here to loot the place, armsman Kstled. Have the men heave ho or whatever and get on with it. I want to sleep in a bed of boundless lucre tonight.”

  “Aren’t you . . . an ardent?” Kstled asked. “And therefore forbidden personal possessions?”

  “Doesn’t mean a lady can’t lie on a big heap of gemstones,” Rushu said. “They talk about it in the stories. I’ve always wondered how uncomfortable it would be.”

  She looked up from her notebook, wide-eyed as she regarded them all. “What? I’m serious. Go! Gather it all up! We were sent to collect artifacts from this place, and those gemstones absolutely count. Though perhaps remind the sailors that they’ll get their traditional percentage share from this salvage, so they’ll all be rich when we return—assuming they don’t try to hide anything or steal from the others.”

  “Assign me several of your best, Kstled,” Lopen said. “Once Brightness Rysn approves, I’ll take them and the ardent and scout inward. See what we find off the beach.”

  Well, see if they could locate the Oathgate. But he wasn’t supposed to talk about that part. Rushu said the queen wanted it quiet, though Rysn apparently knew about it.

  Everyone was pretty worried about the presence of an Oathgate out here, where who-knows-what could access it. They could keep the side at Urithiru locked, of course, so it wasn’t an immediate danger. But still . . .

  Lopen wasn’t exactly certain what they were supposed to do about the thing if they did find it. He didn’t have a living Blade, and neither did Huio. He’d suggested that Kaladin send Teft along, and the answer had surprised him.

  I suggested that to Navani as well, Kaladin had said. And she replied that if this Oathgate was in the hands of enemies, she didn’t fancy sending them a key. Your job is to see if it’s there, scout for an enemy presence, then return. We’ll decide if occupying the place is worth the difficulty after we know for certain whether the Oathgate is there.

  He stepped over to Rushu, who was doing some quick sketches of how the exoskeletons were laid out and how the gemhearts had fallen. The region felt so empty. Quiet as a home with no cousins. But after flying up a little, he could see that Huio was right; there had once been a small city at the center.

  It took Lopen a while to realize something else felt eerie about the place—as if that carapace and all this unnatural silence weren’t enough. No crem. Everywhere else he’d been, you could tell old things by the crem buildup. Over time, buildings became lumps in the landscape.

  Not here. Nothing on the beach—the carapaces, those gemhearts—had a crust on it. No dust either. The place was, sure, cleaner than a soldier’s bunk on inspection day. He lowered down and picked up a small diamond gemheart. Like the others, it wasn’t glowing. He should have realized what that meant.

  Highstorm water doesn’t fall here, he thought, scanning the dark clouds. Maybe the strange winds blow highstorms away?

  He tucked the gemheart in his pocket and strolled over to Rushu, then peeked over her shoulder—to her annoyance, which was fun—at the pictures she’d drawn. They were storming good, considering how quickly she’d done them.

  “I once ate twelve chouta wraps in under two hours,” he said to her. “It was, sure, kind of the same thing.”

  She gave him a baffled look. Maybe she didn’t like chouta.

  “Punio bet me three clearchips I couldn’t do it,” he explained. “So it was a matter of knightly honor.”

  Rushu gave him a suffering glance, then rolled and tied a little string around her drawings. She handed them to a sailor. “Take these to Brightness Rysn and tell her the beach is safe, so we’d like to continue up toward the city.”

  The sailor ran off and rowed with a few others to the ship. A green flag was soon raised from the mast, giving permission to continue, so Lopen gathered the assigned sailors and joined Rushu in hiking farther inland.

  Huio decided to remain with the sailors on the beach, but he had a spanreed. Couldn’t write with it, of course, but Huio liked to use one anyway. When you turned on the spanreed, it would make the one paired to it blink—so some Alethi officers used that to indicate a response to a message, like a raised flag.

  Well, Huio took it further. Crazy chorlano. He figured he could make them blink a certain number of times to mean different things. In this case, once you noticed and acknowledged him, he had a code. One blink meant “all is well.” Two meant “I’m worried.” Three meant “come back immediately.”

  It was kind of like writing, but it was all right because it was numbers—and nobody thought numbers were unseemly for a man to use. Lopen, sure, used numbers for lots of things. He’d even made up a few. Plus Dalinar could write books, which meant everything was different now.

  Lopen kept an eye on those clouds above as he walked proudly forward with Rua on his shoulder. Yes, maybe people had been here before. But that was mostly a long time ago. So . . .

  “You think,” he said to Rushu, “we could say I’m stepping foot on ground where no Herdazian has walked before?”

  “Undoubtedly,” she said. “Herdaz didn’t exist when Aimia was a kingdom. Yours is a relatively new country, after all. I presume there are lots of places a person of Herdazian nationality hadn’t stepped before you and the others arrived there—all of Urithiru, for example.”

  “Ha!” Lopen said, spinning his spear. “Stupid Huio. Come on, naco, let’s go make history.”

  14

  Rysn sat on the quiet deck of her ship, alone save for the captain and a small crew. A sailor kept watch for trouble from the eel’s nest, ready to call a warning if something dangerous approached the shore team.

  Rysn studied the sketches Rushu had sent. Heaps of carapace, the remnants of enormous greatshells who had died—and the gemhearts they grew. Untold riches.

  It was too perfect.

  Rysn looked up as she heard footsteps coming onto the quarterdeck. Cord?

  “I thought you were going ashore with the dinghy, now that we know it’s safe,” Rysn said.

  “I should go,” Cord agreed. “But . . .” She looked down over the side of the ship. “They’re all below, in the water, Rysn. All of the luckspren.”

  “Well,” Rysn said, “you could go help gather gemstones. There’s heaps of treasure on that beach. Everyone who came on this mission is going to return home rich.”

  Cord frowned. “Yes, but he is the wrong treasure.”

  “You notice it too?” Rysn said.

  “Notice what?”

  “There’s something wrong about how this looks,” Rysn said, gesturing to the sketch.

  “No,” Cord said. “Just . . . I wanted other treasure. Shardblades and armor, like the Alethi have.” Cord leaned on the railing, looking out at the beach. “My people are proud, Rysn. But we’re also weak. Very weak. Not weak individually, but weak as a nation.

  “We spent years and years trying to get Shards. This thing cost us many of our bravest fighters. And so far, the only Shards we have belong to my father—who insists he cannot use them.” She shook her head. “The Alethi have Shards. The Thaylens have Shards. The Vedens have Shards. But on the Peaks, we have none.”

  “You don’t need Shards, Cord,”
Rysn said. “You live on mountains far from everyone else. They can’t get to you. And . . .”

  “And they don’t want to?”

  “Well, yes,” Rysn said. “It’s nothing against you and your people. But I’ve made a life out of traveling to difficult places to trade, and even my babsk said that trying to trade with the Horneaters was akin to the seventh fool. I’m sure you have many things of great value, and your people seem wonderful, but the trip is so arduous that trade is almost impossible.”

  Cord didn’t seem insulted. She simply nodded. “That’s how this thing has been for many years. Nothing worth the trip . . . nothing that people knew about.”

  “What . . . do you mean?”

  “The Alethi know now,” she said. “And the enemy always knew. The Peaks have a portal, Rysn. A gateway. A path to the world of gods and spren.” She met Rysn’s eyes. “Soon, everyone will know. And they will want our land. A portal to the land of spren is valuable enough to be worth the trip to the Peaks.”

  “I . . .” Rysn trailed off. She wasn’t certain what to make of this. A portal to the land of the spren? She’d heard about Shadesmar; rumors of it were making their way through society. But if the Horneaters had a way into the place . . .

  “You are allies with the Alethi and the rest of us,” Rysn said. “We can protect you.”

  “Pardon,” Cord said. “I have Alethi friends. The Alethi queen seems worthy. But they know that strong countries take from weak ones. They will say this thing is for everyone’s good. They will say they’re protecting us. But they will move to where we are. They will live in our cities. For everyone’s good.” She nodded. “So we must have Shards, and many Shardbearers. And Radiants—many Radiants. My father could be both. But he thinks tradition is more important than our people. I will do this thing instead. I will find treasures. We must be strong. So strong.”

  Rysn immediately felt guilty. When Cord had said she wanted treasure earlier . . . well, Rysn had assumed Cord had a simplistic, common motivation.

  People talked about wealth, and how greed was such a terrible thing—and it could be dangerous, true. Yet the ambition of someone who had nothing to rise to a new station should not be easily dismissed or thought simplistic. There was so much more to it.

  “So why not join the expedition going to the center of the city?” Rysn asked. “There might be Shards there.”

  “If there are,” Cord said, “the Radiants will claim them. I need to go a different direction. And the spren . . .” She shook her head, then turned to Rysn. “Thank you, by the way.”

  “For . . . what?”

  “For not assuming I was bad,” Cord said. “That man, Nikli, he tried to . . . what is the word in Veden? Make others think I was evil?”

  “He framed you.”

  “Framed. Like a picture?”

  “Same word, different meaning.”

  “Ah. Why—with so many sounds—do lowlanders make words that sound the same, but mean different things? Anyway, thank you. For not believing I was evil. I think many people, they dislike foreign people like me. Always believe them to be evil. But you believed me, instead of your friend.”

  “I’ve been taught by a very wise man to see the world differently,” Rysn said. “You can thank him, when I introduce you.” Thinking of Vstim, however, made her realize what was bothering her about the pictures of the shore. She pointed at the sketch of the many gemhearts.

  “There was a time once,” Rysn said, “when I went with my babsk—the man who trained me—to trade. And the person we met had left spheres and gemstones all about, casually. A sign of wealth. My babsk, he traded differently with this person than others we’d met. Harsher, more cutthroat. Um, that means . . . well, it’s another word for harsher I guess.”

  Cord took one of the sketches. “This thing is the same?”

  “Maybe,” Rysn said. “Afterward, I asked my babsk why he’d acted that way. He told me, ‘People don’t leave money out casually. They do it to make you see it. Either they want to pretend they have more than they have, or . . .’ ”

  “Or?” Cord asked.

  “Or they want you to fixate on it,” Rysn said. “And ignore some greater prize. Would you fetch one of the sailors for me? I need to deliver a message to Rushu.”

  15

  Lopen soared up high, Rua at his side, surveying the island. From up here, it seemed so small.

  The city had a curious shape, like a flower with radiating petals. The rest of the island was boring: one big long beach. Nothing moved; nothing seemed suspicious, which he figured was how a place that was suspicious would act.

  He dropped down to the rest of the group, where Rushu was doing a sketch of some of the buildings here at the outskirts of the city. These were covered in crem, giving them that familiar melted appearance that he associated with old things.

  “From up there,” he said, “it all just looks like rocks. Why do you suppose there’s crem here, but not on the beach?”

  “I would guess,” she said, still sketching, “that some of this was already covered in crem when the highstorms stopped reaching this island. The carapace and gemhearts by the beach are certainly old, but they must be fresher than these ruins.”

  What he’d mistaken for walls when first approaching was really a line of buildings. Homes, perhaps? They were uniform, and groups of them formed the “tips” of the flower petals he’d seen from above.

  Rushu finished her sketch, then turned to another page in her notebook—one that contained some kind of map.

  “Hey!” Lopen said. “That looks exactly like the city!”

  “An ancient map of Akinah,” she explained. “I was hoping to use it to conclusively prove this is the same place. You seem to have done that for me.”

  “Glad to help,” Lopen said. With their squad of eight spear-wielding sailors, they moved inward, passing the grown-over buildings and entering the heart of the city.

  Here, the roofs had all fallen in, leaving pillars and some remnants of walls. It was covered in just enough crem to make the ruins feel like they were sinking into the ground, but not enough to turn them into lumps. The result gave the place an almost rotting cast, reminding him of the refuse he’d find in the chasms with Bridge Four. These were the bones, the broken branches, and the withered flesh of a once grand city.

  “It’s smaller than I’d imagined,” Lopen said, turning about and using his spear to gesture toward the far end of the city. “I could walk across the whole place in, sure, less time than it takes Punio to do his hair before we go out dancing.”

  “Older cities were all that way,” Rushu said. “It was harder for the ancients to build windbreaks and aqueducts, and they didn’t have large trade operations to resupply cities with food. So everything was constructed on a much smaller scale.”

  Lopen turned around in a circle, feeling like those broken buildings were skulls, with sunken eye sockets for windows, all dripping with hardened crem. Rushu sent the sailors to go searching through some of those, and he shivered. Why was he so nervous about this place?

  “I . . . don’t know that we’ll find anything useful in here, Rushu,” he said, scanning about. “The place is less ruins than rubble.”

  “The fact that it exists in such an undisturbed state is monumentally important, Lopen,” Rushu said. “It will be of great interest to archaeologists and historians. The more we’ve learned about the Recreance, the more we’ve realized that our understanding of the past is painfully incomplete.”

  “I suppose,” Lopen said as she held up her little map. “Any idea where the Oathgate would be?”

  “Well, the optimal place would be in the center of the city for equilateral access,” Rushu said. “Either that, or nearest the docks for maximum trade convenience. Unfortunately, judging by the three in Azimir, Kholinar, and Thaylen City, the Oathgates were not placed optimally. Instead, all three are within convenient access of the ruling class.”

  “Storming lighteyes,” Lopen muttered
. “Always making things more difficult for us common folk.”

  “Us common folk?” she asked. “You are a Knight Radiant.”

  “The most common one.”

  “You frequently tell me how uncommon you are, Lopen.”

  “It’s only a contradiction if you think about it.”

  “I . . . I have no response to that.”

  “See? You are getting it already. So . . . where would the rich folks have been in this city?”

  “My guess is those larger lumps over there. The Oathgates tend to be on large platforms, and that section seems to be raised higher than the surroundings.”

  They began walking toward the ruins she had indicated. As they did, Lopen found himself holding his spear tightly and checking over his shoulder. And storms, it wasn’t just him being jumpy. There was something unnerving about this place. With those clouds overhead, the distant fog, the stillness.

  It was, sure, a mausoleum. But instead of being for kings or such, it was for an entire people. This had once been a vibrant capital, a center of trade.

  It wasn’t simply ruins. It was lonely ruins, always overcast and never seeing the sun, but also never seeing rain or storm. Was that why Rysn’s porter had worked so hard to keep them away? To prevent them from disturbing the place’s slumber? Or had Lopen listened to one too many of Rock’s firelight stories about spirits and gods?

  At any rate, he nearly jumped all the way to the Halls when someone came around the corner. Lopen yelled and drew in Stormlight, then felt foolish. It was only Pluv, one of the sailors.

  “Message for Ardent Rushu,” he said, “from the rebsk.”

  Rushu took the note and read it while Lopen scanned the ruins again. He spotted all eight sailors, and a part of him was surprised that one hadn’t vanished mysteriously. He ought to go tell them to stick together, just in case.

  “Curious,” Rushu said, tucking away the note.

  “What does she say?”

  “It’s a warning,” Rushu said. “She thinks everything about this place is too expected, too perfect. An opening in the stones out in the water, leading toward a perfect landing beach, with gemstones littered around for the taking? I suppose even these ruins are exactly as I imagined them. . . .”