The other Fused waited respectfully as Raboniel—her victorious proposal elevating her further in their eyes—walked toward the exit. Only one of the Fused moved. Leshwi.

“Come,” she said, floating after Raboniel.

Venli hurried, joining Leshwi as she intercepted the tall femalen just outside the doors. Raboniel looked over Leshwi, humming to Derision as the two emerged into sunlight on the balcony rooftop around the chamber. The stairwell down was to the right.

“Why did you seek to block my proposal, Leshwi?” Raboniel asked. “Have you begun to feel the effects of madness?”

“I am not mad, but afraid,” Leshwi said to Abashment—and Venli started at the words. Lady Leshwi, afraid? “Do you truly think you can end the war?”

“I’m certain of it,” Raboniel said to Derision. “I have had a long time to ponder on the discoveries made before the end of the false Return.” She reached into the pocket of her robe and removed a gemstone glowing with Stormlight, a shifting spren captured inside. A fabrial like the humans created.

“They imprisoned some of the Unmade in these, Leshwi,” Raboniel said. “How close do you think they are to discovering they could do the same for us? Can you imagine it? Forever imprisoned in a gemstone, locked away, able to think but unable to ever break free?”

Leshwi hummed to Panic, a pained rhythm with unfinished measures and chopped-up beats.

“One way or another,” Raboniel said, “this is the final Return. The humans will soon discover how to imprison us. If not, well, the best of us who remain are but a few steps from madness. We must find a solution to this war.”

“You are newly Returned,” Leshwi said. “You have no servants or staff. Your undertaking will require both.” She gestured to the side, to Venli. “I have gathered a staff of faithful and highly capable singers. I would lend them to you for this enterprise, and would attend you myself, as an apology for my objections.”

“You do always have the best servants,” Raboniel said, eyeing Venli. “This one is the Last Listener, is she not? Once Voice of Odium himself? How did you collect her?”

Timbre pulsed inside Venli—she was annoyed by the term “collect,” and Venli felt the same. She bowed her head and hummed to Subservience to keep from revealing her true feelings.

“She was cast off by Odium,” Leshwi said. “I have found her an excellent Voice.”

“The daughter of traitors,” Raboniel said, but to Craving—she was curious about Venli. “Then a traitor to her own kind. I will take her, and those you send, as my servants during the infiltration. You may join us as well. Serve, and perhaps I will forgive your crass objections. There were certainly others thinking the same; you gave opportunity for refutation.”

Raboniel strode away, though as she reached the steps, Venli spotted someone waiting for her in the shadows below. The hulking figure of the Pursuer, who had been dismissed earlier. He bowed to Raboniel, who hesitated at the top of the stairwell. Their exchange was not audible to Venli.

“He’s begging for a chance to go with her,” Leshwi whispered. “Raboniel will have jurisdiction during this infiltration—and can authorize him to continue his hunt. He will try anything to justify another chance at that Windrunner. I fear he will ignore the Nine, particularly if Raboniel approves of him.” She looked to Venli. “You must gather our people and attend her. You will not need to fight; that will be done by others. You will serve her as you have me, and report to me in secret.”

“Mistress?” Venli asked. She lowered her voice. “So you don’t trust her.”

“Of course not,” Leshwi said. “Last time, her recklessness nearly cost us everything. The Nine favor her boldness; they feel the weight of time. Yet boldness can be one step from foolishness. So we must prevent a catastrophe. This land is for the ordinary singers to inherit. I will not leave it desolate simply to prove we can murder better than our enemies.”

Venli swelled at that. Timbre surged inside her, pulsing, encouraging her.

“Mistress,” she whispered, “do you think there … could be a way to re-form my people? Find a land away from both Fused and humans? To be on our own again, as we were?”

Leshwi hummed to Reprimand, glancing toward the chamber with the other Fused. None had left yet. They wouldn’t want to be seen rushing after Raboniel—and Venli realized, in a moment of understanding, why Leshwi preferred to remain lowly among them. Her lack of standing gave her freedom to do things others considered beneath them.

“Do not speak of such things,” Leshwi hissed. “Others already mistrust you for what your ancestors did. You wish to rule yourselves? I commend that—but the time is not right. Help us defeat the humans, and then we Fused will fade into time and leave this world to you. That is how to achieve your independence, Venli.”

“Yes, mistress,” she said to Subservience. She didn’t feel it, and Timbre pulsed her own frustration.

Venli had felt Odium’s hand directly. He would not leave this people alone, and she suspected the other Fused—tired though they might be—would not abandon ruling the world. Too many of them enjoyed the luxury of their positions. Victory for them was no path to independence for Venli and her people.

Leshwi soared off, leaving Venli to walk down the steps. As she did, she caught sight of Raboniel and the Pursuer speaking conspiratorially in the dim reaches of the third floor. Storms, what was Venli getting pulled into now?

Timbre pulsed inside her.

“Opportunity?” Venli said. “What kind of opportunity?”

Timbre pulsed again.

“I thought you hated the human Radiants,” Venli whispered. “Who cares if we’re going to find them at the tower?”

Timbre pulsed decisively. She had a point. Perhaps the humans could train Venli. Maybe she could capture one of their Radiants and make them teach her.

At any rate, she needed to prepare her staff to leave the city. Her recruitment efforts would have to be put on hold. Like it or not, she was going to be at the forefront of another invasion of the human lands.

Logicspren react curiously to imprisonment. Unlike other spren, they do not manifest some attribute—you cannot use them to make heat, or to warn of nearby danger, or conjoin gemstones. For years, artifabrians considered them useless—indeed, experimenting with them was uncommon, since logicspren are rare and difficult to capture.

A breakthrough has come in discovering that logicspren will vary the light they radiate based on certain stimuli. For example, if you make the Light leak from the gemstone at a controlled rate, the spren will alternate dimming and brightening in a regular pattern. This has led to fabrial clocks.

When the gemstone is tapped with certain metals, the light will also change states from bright to dim. This is leading to some very interesting and complex mechanisms.

—Lecture on fabrial mechanics presented by Navani Kholin to the coalition of monarchs, Urithiru, Jesevan, 1175

In the weeks following the assault on Hearthstone, Kaladin’s anxiety began to subside, and he pushed through the worst of the darkness. He always emerged on the other side. Why was that so difficult to remember while in the middle of it?