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“It flew by Lashings,” one of the Nine said. “The work of Windrunners.”
“No,” Leshwi said. “It did not have that appearance or that feel. This was a device, a machine. Created by their artifabrians.”
The Nine sang together, and their alien song made Timbre—deep within Venli—pulse nervously.
“We were away far too long,” one of the Nine said. “It has let the humans fester like an infection, gaining strength. They create devices we have never known.”
“We are behind them, not ahead,” another said. “It is a dangerous position from which to fight.”
“No,” said a third. “They have made great strides in understanding the prisons of spren, but they know little about the bond, the power of oaths, the nature of the tones of the world. They are cremlings building a nest beneath the shadow of a great temple. They take pride in what they have done, but cannot grasp the beauties around them.”
“Still,” said the first. “Still. We could not have crafted the flying device they have.”
“Why would we? We have the shanay-im.”
Venli remained bowed, hand on her staff. Holding the pose exactly grew uncomfortable, but she would never complain. She was as close to important events as a mortal could get, and she was certain she could use the knowledge to some advantage. The Nine spoke for the ears of those listening. They could have conversed quietly, but these meetings were about the spectacle.
“Leshwi,” one of the Nine said. “What of the suppressor we sent to be tested? Did it work?”
“It worked,” Leshwi said, “but it was also lost. The humans captured it. I fear this will lead them to further explorations and discoveries.”
“This was poorly handled,” said one of the Fused.
“I take no responsibility for this error,” Leshwi said. “You must speak to the Pursuer to find record of the mistake.”
Each spoke with formal tones and rhythms. Venli had the impression that the Nine knew how these answers would play out.
“Lezian!” the Nine called together. “You will—”
“Oh, dispense with the pageantry,” a loud voice said. A tall Fused emerged from the shadows on the far side of the room.
Leshwi lowered down, and Venli straightened and stepped back into line before her master. That gave her a good view of this new Fused, which was of a variety that Venli had never seen. Enormous, with jagged carapace and deep red hair, the being wore only a simple black wrap for clothing. Or … was his hair the clothing? It seemed to meld with the wrap.
Fascinating. Nex-im, Those Ones of Husks, the ninth brand of Fused. She had heard them spoken of; supposedly very few existed. Was this the recently awakened Fused who had Leshwi so concerned?
“Lezian, the Pursuer,” said one of the Nine. “You were entrusted with a delicate device, a suppressor of Stormlight abilities. You were told to test it. Where is this device?”
“I tested it,” Lezian snapped, showing little of the formality or respect others gave the Nine. “It didn’t work.”
“You are certain of this?” the Nine asked. “Was the man Invested when he attacked you?”
“You think I could be defeated by a common human?” the Pursuer demanded. “This Windrunner must be of the Fourth Ideal—something I was led to believe had not yet happened. Perhaps our reconnaissance teams have lost their edge, during the long time spent between Returns.”
Behind Venli, Leshwi hummed sharply to Conceit. She did not like that implication.
“Regardless,” the Pursuer said, “I was killed. The Windrunner is more dangerous than any of us were led to believe. I must pursue him now, as is my right by tradition. I will leave immediately.”
Curious, Venli thought. If he’d fought Stormblessed, then he could not be the newly awakened one that Leshwi feared. The Pursuer stood with arms crossed as the Nine began to sing to one another again, softer than before. In the past, such deliberations had taken several minutes. Many of the other Fused began conferring quietly as they waited.
Venli leaned back, whispering, “Who is he, Lady?”
“A hero,” Leshwi responded to Withdrawal. “And a fool. Millennia ago, Lezian was the first Fused to be killed by a human. To avoid the shame of such death, upon returning to life, Lezian ignored all orders and rational arguments—and went into battle seeking only the man who had killed him.
“He was successful, and his tradition was born. Any time he is killed, Lezian ignores everything else until he has claimed the life of the one who killed him. Seven thousand years, and he’s never failed. Now the others—even those chosen as the Nine—encourage his quests.”
“I thought in the past, you were exiled to Braize once you died? How could he return to hunt the one who had killed him?”
Much of this was still confusing to Venli. For thousands of years, the humans and the singers had fought many rounds of an eternal war. Each new wave of attacks had involved what was called a Return, when the Fused would descend to Roshar. The humans called these Desolations.
There was something special about the way the human Heralds interacted that could lock the Fused on Braize, the land called Damnation by the humans. Only once the Fused broke the Heralds through torture—sending them back to Roshar—could a Return be initiated. This cycle had played out for millennia, until the Last Desolation, where something had changed. Something to do with a single Herald and an unbreakable will.
“You mistake the cycle, simplify it,” Leshwi said softly. “We were only locked on Braize once the Heralds died and joined us there. Until then, there would often be years or even decades of rebirths during a Return—during which time the Heralds would train humans to fight. Once they were confident that humans could continue to stand, the Heralds would give themselves to Braize to activate the Isolation. The Heralds would need to die for this to work.”
“But … they didn’t die the last time?” Venli said. “They remained, but you were still locked away.”
“Yes…” Leshwi said. “They somehow found a way to shift the Oathpact to depend on a single member.” She nodded toward the Pursuer. “Regardless, before an Isolation began, that one always managed to find and kill any humans who had bested him. As soon as the Isolation was begun, he’d kill himself, so he’d never return to Braize permanently after having died by human hand.
“As I said, the others encourage his tradition. He is allowed to act outside command structures, given leeway to Pursue. When he is not hunting one who killed him, he seeks to fight the strongest of the enemy Radiants.”
“That sounds like a worthy Passion,” Venli said, picking her words carefully.
“Yes, it does sound like one,” Leshwi said to Derision. “Perhaps it would be, in someone less reckless. Lezian has endangered our plans, undermined strategies, and ruined more missions than I can count. And he’s growing worse. As all of us are, I suppose…”
“He was killed by the Windrunner hero?” Venli asked. “The one they call Stormblessed?”
“Yes, yesterday. And the Radiant’s powers were suppressed at the time, no matter what Lezian said. Stormblessed is not yet of the Fourth Ideal. I would know. This is doubly a shame on the Pursuer. He grows careless, overly confident. These Radiants are new to their powers, but that does not make them less worthy.”
