Oathbringer

a fine night for my torment, and no telling the skies to be still.

a fine night for my torment, and no telling the skies to be still.

Elhokar’s son.

“We protect those,” Drehy said, “who cannot protect themselves.”

The final death of Jezrien. Yaezir. Jezerezeh’Elin, king of Heralds. A figure known in myth and lore as the greatest human who had ever lived.

There were nine orders of them. Why not ten?

He read this latest set of stained-glass images, then felt his fear drain away. He smiled. This seemed to confuse the Fused as they lowered their salutes.

All his life they’d done that. No, Renarin. That’s not for you. You can’t do that. You’re not well, Renarin. Be reasonable, Renarin.

He’d always been reasonable. He’d always listened. It felt wonderful and terrifying at once to know that nobody did that today. The spanreeds continued their scratching, moving on their own, oblivious to the moment.

Renarin stepped outside.

She clambered up onto the prow of the ship, releasing a loud string of curses.

Wow, the sword said. That’s impressive vocabulary for a child. Does she even know what that last one means?

Szeth Lashed himself into the air after the Fused.

If she does know what it means, the sword added, do you think she’d tell me?

“The enemy brought a very big stick to this battle, Captain. I’m going to take it away.”

“I will protect those I hate. Even … even if the one I hate most … is … myself.”