Sublime

“Who are you?” Dalinar asked again. And yet, he thought he knew. “I am … I was … God. The one you call the Almighty, the creator of mankind.” The figure closed his eyes. “And now I am dead. Odium has killed me. I am sorry.”

He was the powerful, all-but-immortal Incarnation standing tall after a harsh battle. He was the menace, looming over a weary swordsman who kept his blade raised in futile defiance. He was the uncaring master, carelessly discarding minions by the score, their bodies strewn all over the street. He was the traitor who had beaten Simon bloody for

Lorcan.

If you met Lewis in the street, you might guess that he was a lawyer or a kindly geography teacher. In fact, he was one of the most efficiently deadly men in the British services.

You protected your highmarshal, he told himself. You’re a hero. But why was Amaram’s life worth more than those of his men? Kaladin served Amaram because of the honor he had shown. He let spearmen share his comfort in the warcenter during highstorms, a different squad each storm. He insisted that his men be well fed and well paid. He didn’t treat

Aladar

He remembers how Arthur was, in the last few years of his reign. He remembers how things ended.