Not when I’m here with you, ready. The delay is primarily something of the dead. They need to be revived each time.

metal disc set into the stone. Was this steel? It hadn’t rusted or even tarnished despite its long abandonment.

There were ten main ones, just as there had been ten orders of knights, ten kingdoms, ten peoples. And then—between the segments representing the first and tenth kingdoms—was a narrower eleventh section. It depicted a tall tower. Urithiru.

Renarin dismissed his Blade, and oddly, as he did so, he let out a relieved sigh and relaxed against the outer wall of the building.

This would be a sad place to die. A place away from the wind.

Jasnah had once defined a fool as a person who ignored information because it disagreed with desired results.

That was all right. She liked Adolin as he was. He was kind, noble, and genuine. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t brilliant or . . . or whatever else Kaladin was. She couldn’t even define it. So there. Passionate, with an intense, smoldering resolve. A leashed anger that he used, because he had dominated it. And a certain tempting arrogance. Not the

mundane. Ordinary. But soaring on the winds—that

“I’ve always read the phrase metaphorically. Connected in purpose, in thought, and scholarship.” “Ah. Lies.”