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“We need to be ready to fight them,” Davim said to Anxiety.

Eshonai laughed. A blatant use of emotion, but she truly felt it. “Fight them? Haven’t you been listening? I can summon a highstorm.”

“With help,” Chivi said to Curiosity. Nimbleform. Another weak form. They should expunge that one from their ranks. “You have said you cannot do it alone. How many others would you need? Certainly the two hundred you have now are enough.”

“No, that is not nearly enough,” Eshonai replied. “I feel that the more people we have in this form, the more likely we are to succeed. I would like, therefore, to move that we transform.”

“Yes,” Chivi said. “But how many of us?”

“All of us.”

Davim hummed to Amusement, thinking it must be a joke. He trailed off as the rest sat in silence.

“We will have just one chance,” Eshonai said to Resolve. “The humans will leave their warcamps together, in one large army that intends to reach Narak during the lull. They will be completely exposed on the plateaus, with no shelter. A highstorm at that time would destroy them.”

“We don’t even truly know if you can summon one,” Abronai said to Skepticism.

“That is why we need as many of us in stormform as possible,” Eshonai said. “If we miss this opportunity, our children will sing us the songs of Cursing, assuming they even live long enough to do so. This is our chance, our one chance. Imagine the ten armies of men, isolated on the plateaus, buffeted and overwhelmed by a tempest they could never have expected! With stormform, we would be immune to its effects. If any survive, we could destroy them easily.”

“It is tempting,” Davim said.

“I do not like the look of those who have taken this form,” Chivi said. “I do not like how people clamor to be given it. Perhaps two hundred are enough.”

“Eshonai,” Davim said, “how does this form feel?”

He was asking more than he actually said. Each form changed a person in some ways. Warform made you more aggressive, mateform made you easy to distract, nimbleform encouraged focus, and workform made you obedient.

Eshonai attuned Peace.

No. That was the screaming voice. How had she spent weeks in this form and not noticed?

“I feel alive,” Eshonai said to Joy. “I feel strong, and I feel powerful. I feel a connection to the world that I should have always known. Davim, this is like the change from dullform to one of the other forms—it is that much of an upgrade. Now that I hold this strength, I realize I wasn’t fully alive before.”

She lifted her hand and made a fist. She could feel the energy coursing down her arm as the muscles flexed, though it was hidden beneath the Shardplate.

“Red eyes,” Abronai whispered. “Have we come to this?”

“If we decide to do this,” Chivi said. “Perhaps we four should assess it first, then say if the others should join us.” Venli opened her mouth to speak, but Chivi waved her hand, interrupting her. “You have had your say, Venli. We know what you wish.”

“We cannot wait, unfortunately,” Eshonai said. “If we want to trap the Alethi armies, we will need time to transform everyone before the Alethi leave to search for Narak.”

“I’m willing to try it,” Abronai said. “Perhaps we should propose a mass transformation to our people.”

“No.” Zuln spoke to Peace.

The dullform member of the Five sat slouched, looking at the ground before her. She almost never said anything.

Eshonai attuned Annoyance. “What was that?”

“No,” Zuln repeated. “It is not right.”

“I would have us all be in agreement,” Davim said. “Zuln, can you not listen to reason?”

“It is not right,” the dullform said again.

“She is dull,” Eshonai said. “We should ignore her.”

Davim hummed to Anxiety. “Zuln represents the past, Eshonai. You shouldn’t say such things of her.”

“The past is dead.”

Abronai joined Davim in humming to Anxiety. “Perhaps this is worth more thought. Eshonai, you… do not speak as you used to. I hadn’t realized the changes were so stark.”

Eshonai attuned one of the new rhythms, the Rhythm of Fury. She held the song inside, and found herself humming. These were so cautious, so weak! They would see her people destroyed.

“We will meet again later today,” Davim said. “Let us spend time considering. Eshonai, I would speak with you alone during that period, if you are willing.”

“Of course.”

They rose from their places atop the pillar. Eshonai stepped to the edge and looked down as the others filed down. The spire was too high to jump from, even in Shardplate. She so wanted to try.

It seemed that every person in the city had gathered around the base to await the decision. In the weeks since Eshonai’s transformation, talk of what had happened to her—then the others—had infused the city with a certain mixture of anxiety and hope. Many had come to her, begging to be given the form. They saw the chance it offered.

“They’re not going to agree to it,” Venli said from behind once the others were down. She spoke to Spite, one of the new rhythms. “You spoke too aggressively, Eshonai.”

“Davim is with us,” Eshonai said to Confidence. “Chivi will come too, with persuasion.”

“That isn’t enough. If the Five do not come to a consensus—”

“Don’t worry.”

“Our people must take that form, Eshonai,” Venli said. “It is inevitable.”

Eshonai found herself attuning the new version of Amusement… Ridicule, it was. She turned to her sister. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew exactly what this form would do to me. You knew this before you took the form yourself.”

“I… Yes.”

Eshonai grabbed her sister by the front of her robe, then yanked her forward, holding her tightly. With Shardplate it was easy, though Venli resisted more than she should have been able to, and a small spark of red lightning ran across the woman’s arms and face. Eshonai was not accustomed to such strength from her scholar of a sister.

“You could have destroyed us,” Eshonai said. “What if this form had done something terrible?”

Screaming. In her head. Venli smiled.

“How did you discover this?” Eshonai asked. “It didn’t come from the songs. There is more.”

Venli did not speak. She met Eshonai’s eyes and hummed to Confidence. “We must make certain the Five agree to this plan,” she said. “If we are to survive, and if we are to defeat the humans, we must be in this form—all of us. We must summon that storm. It has been… waiting, Eshonai. Waiting and building.”

“I will see to it,” Eshonai said, dropping Venli. “You can gather enough spren for us to transform all of our people?”

“My staff have been working on it these three weeks. We will be ready to transform thousands upon thousands over the course of the final two highstorms before the lull.”

“Good.” Eshonai started down the steps.

“Sister?” Venli asked. “You are planning something. What is it? How will you persuade the Five?”


Tags: Brandon Sanderson The Stormlight Archive Fantasy