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Raboniel denied Navani servants. The Fused apparently thought it would be a hardship for Navani to live without them. So Navani allowed herself a small moment of pride when she stepped out of her rooms on the first full day of Urithiru’s occupation. Her hair was clean and braided, her simple havah pressed and neat, her makeup done. Washing in cold water hadn’t been pleasant, but the fabrials weren’t working, so it wasn’t as if she could expect warm water even if she had servants.
Navani was led down to the library rooms in the basement of Urithiru. Raboniel sat at Navani’s own desk, going through her notes. Upon arriving, Navani bowed precisely, just low enough to indicate obedience—but not low enough to imply subservience.
The Fused pushed back the chair and leaned an elbow on the desktop, then made a shooing motion with a hummed sound to dismiss the guards.
“What is your decision?” the Fused asked.
“I will organize my scholars, Ancient One,” Navani said, “and continue their research under your observation.”
“The wiser choice, and the more dangerous one, Navani Kholin.” Raboniel hummed a different tone. “I do not find the schematics for your flying machine in these notes.”
Navani made a show of debating it, but she’d already considered this issue. The secrets of the flying platform would be impossible to keep; too many of Navani’s scholars knew them. Beyond that, many of the new style of conjoined fabrials—which allowed lateral motion while maintaining elevation—were already in use around the tower. Though fabrials didn’t work, Raboniel’s people could surely discern their operation.
After a long debate with herself, she’d come to the conclusion that she needed to give up this secret. Her best hope in escaping the current predicament was to appear to be willing to work with Raboniel, while also stalling.
“I intentionally don’t keep priority schematics anywhere but in my own head,” Navani lied. “Instead I explain each piece I need built to my scholars as I need them. Given time, I can draw for you the mechanism that makes the machine work.”
Raboniel hummed to a rhythm, but Navani couldn’t tell what it represented. However, Raboniel seemed skeptical as she stood and waved for Navani to sit down. She placed a reed in Navani’s hands and folded her arms to wait.
Well, fine. Navani began drawing with quick, efficient lines. She made a diagram of a conjoined fabrial, with a quick explanation of how it worked, then she drew the expanded vision of hundreds of them embedded into the flying machine.
“Yes,” Raboniel said as Navani sketched the last portions, “but how do you make it move laterally? Surely with this construction, you could raise a machine high in the air—but it would have to remain there, in one place. You don’t expect me to believe that you have a ground machine moving in exact coordination to the one in the sky.”
“You understand more about fabrials than I assumed, Lady of Wishes.”
Raboniel hummed a rhythm. “I am a quick learner.” She gestured to the notes on Navani’s desk. “In the past, my kind found it difficult to persuade spren to manifest themselves in the Physical Realm as devices. It seems Voidspren are not as naturally … self-sacrificing as those of Honor or Cultivation.”
Navani blinked as the implications of that sank in. Suddenly a dozen loose threads in her mind tied together, forming a tapestry. An explanation. That was why the fabrials of the tower—the pumps, the climbing mechanisms—didn’t have gemstones with captive spren. Storms … that was the answer to Soulcasting devices.
Awespren burst around her in a ring of blue smoke. Soulcasters didn’t hold spren because they were spren. Manifesting in the Physical Realm like Shardblades. Spren became metal on this side. Somehow the ancient spren had been coaxed into manifesting as Soulcasters instead of Blades?
“You didn’t know, I see,” Raboniel said, pulling a chair over for herself. Even sitting, she was a foot taller than Navani. She made such an odd image: a carapace-armored figure, as if prepared for war, picking through notes. “Odd that you should have made so many advances that we never dreamed of in epochs past, yet you’ve forgotten the far simpler method your ancestors used.”
“We … we didn’t have access to spren who would talk to us,” Navani explained. “Vev’s golden keys … this … I can’t believe we didn’t see it. The implications…”
“Lateral movement?” Raboniel asked.
Feeling almost in a daze, Navani sketched out the answer. “We learned to isolate planes for conjoined fabrials,” she explained. “You have to use this construction of aluminum wires, rigged to touch the gemstone. That maintains vertical position, but allows the gemstone to be moved horizontally.”
“Fascinating,” Raboniel said. “Ralkalest—you call it aluminum in your language—interfering with the Connection. That’s quite ingenious. It must have taken a great deal of testing to get the correct configuration.”
“Over a year’s worth,” Navani admitted. “After the initial possibility was theorized. We have a problem that we can’t move vertically and laterally at the same time—the fabrials that move us upward and downward are finicky, and we have been touching aluminum to them only after locking them into place.”
“That’s inconvenient.”
“Yes,” Navani said, “but we’ve found a system where we stop, then do our vertical motions. It can be a pain, since spanreeds are very difficult to make work in moving vehicles.”
“It seems there should be a way to use this knowledge to make spanreeds that can be used while moving,” Raboniel said, inspecting Navani’s sketch.
“That was my thought as well,” Navani said. “I put a small team on it, but we’ve been mostly occupied by other matters. Your weapons against our Radiants still confuse me.”
Raboniel hummed to a quick and dismissive rhythm. “Ancient technology, barely functional,” she said. “We can suck the Stormlight from a Radiant, yes—so long as they remain hanging there impaled by one of our weapons. This method does nothing to prevent the spren from bonding a new Radiant. I should like it if your spren were easier to capture in gemstones.”
“I’ll pass the request along,” Navani said.
Raboniel hummed to a different rhythm, then smiled. It was difficult not to see the expression as predatory on her marbled face, with its lean danger. Yet there was also something tempting about the efficiency of this interaction. A few minutes of exchange, and Navani knew secrets she’d been trying to crack for decades.
“This is how we end the war, Navani,” Raboniel said, standing. “With information. Shared.”
“And this ends the war how?”
“By showing everyone that our lives will all be improved by working together.”
“With the singers ruling.”
“Of course,” Raboniel said. “You are obviously a keen scholar, Navani Kholin. If you could improve the lives of your people manyfold, is that not worth abandoning self-governance? Look what we’ve done in mere minutes by sharing our knowledge.”
Shared only because of your threats, Navani thought, careful not to show that on her face. This wasn’t some free exchange. It doesn’t matter what you tell me, Raboniel. You can reveal any secret you desire—because I’m in your power. You can just kill me once you have everything you want.
