“You’ve always been a clever one,” Wit said. “Was it my diction that clued you in, my keen bargaining abilities, or the fact that I included my name in the text?”
What game do you play here?
“A game of sense.”
… What?
“Sense, Odium. The only kind I have is nonsense. Well, and some cents, but cents are nonsense here too—so we can ignore them. Scents are mine aplenty, and you never cared for the ones I present. So instead, the sense that matters is the sense Dalinar sensibly sent you.”
I hate you.
“Rayse, dear,” Wit said, “you’re supposed to be an idiot. Say intelligent things like that too much, and I’ll need to reevaluate. I know you adjusted the contract, trying for an advantage. How does it feel to know that Dalinar bested you?”
I shall have my vengeance, Odium said. Even if it takes an eternity, Cephandrius, I will destroy you.
“Enjoy that!” Wit said, striding toward the door. “Let me know how the brooding treats you. I spent a century doing it once, and I think it improved my complexion.”
So interesting, Odium said. How did I never see you there, in all my planning … Tell me, whom would you pick as champion? If you were in my place?
“Why does it matter?” Wit asked.
Humor me.
Wit cocked his head. There was something odd about this change in tone from Odium. Asking whom Wit would choose? Rayse wouldn’t care to know.
Never mind, Odium said quickly. It matters not. Whomever I pick, they will destroy Dalinar’s champion! Then I will use him, and my minions on this planet, to finally do whatever I wish!
“Yes, but where will you find that many willing horses…” Wit said, continuing on his way out the door. He started whistling as Odium’s presence remained behind. That had gone exactly as he’d imagined. Except that last part. He slowed, turning the words over in his mind.
Was Rayse growing more thoughtful? Wit didn’t need to worry, did he? After all this, Odium would be safely imprisoned, no matter what happened. There was no way out.…
Unless …
Wit’s breath caught, but then he forced himself to keep whistling and walking.
A power slammed into him from behind. A golden energy, infinite and deadly. Wit’s eyes went wide, and he gasped, sensing something horribly wrong about that power.
I have made an error, I see, the power said, soft and thoughtful. I am new to this. I should not have pushed for information. It’s all about giving you what you expect. Even a being thousands of years old can be tricked. I know this from personal experience now.
“Who are you?” Wit whispered.
Odium, the power said. Let me see … I cannot harm you. But here, you have used this other Investiture to store your memories, haven’t you? Because you’ve lived longer than a mortal should, you need to put the excess memories somewhere. I can’t see your mind, but I can see these, can’t I?
For the first time in a long, long while, Wit felt true terror. If Odium destroyed the Breaths that held his memories …
I don’t believe this will cause you actual harm … Odium said. Yes, it seems my predecessor’s agreements will allow me to—
Wit stopped in the hallways of Elhokar’s old palace on the Shattered Plains. He searched around, then cocked his head. Had he heard something?
He shook his head and continued forward, looking for an audience. He flipped a coin in the air, then caught it before snapping his hand forward and spreading his fingers to show that the coin had vanished. But of course it was secretly in his other hand, palmed, hidden from sight.
“Storytelling,” he said to the empty hallway, “is essentially about cheating.”
He tucked the coin into his belt with a quick gesture, keeping up the flourishes of his other hand as a distraction. Then he heard a pling as something slipped free of his belt. He stopped and found one of his fake coins on the ground, the ones that could be stuck together to appear as one.
But just one half? That should have been safely tucked away in the little pocket hidden in his shirt. He picked it up, glanced around to see that no one had noticed the mistake.
“Pretend you didn’t see that, Design,” he said.
But she wasn’t there on his coat. Storming spren. Had she slipped away when he hadn’t been looking? He put a hand to his head, feeling an odd disorientation.
Something was wrong. But what?
“The challenge…” he said, tucking away the fake coin, “is to make everyone believe you’ve lived a thousand lives.… Make them feel the pain, the sights, the truths…”
Damn. It was wrong somehow. “You use the same dirty tricks for storytelling,” Wit whispered, “as you do for fighting in an alley. Always be ready to hit them where they aren’t prepared.”
But no one was listening. Hadn’t there been a couple of Sja-anat’s minions following him earlier? He vaguely remembered … Design chasing them away?
Wit stared around himself, but then felt something. A tingling that made his Breaths go wild.
Ah … he thought. He’d been expecting this; it was why he had left the tower. Odium couldn’t find him there.
He hiked the short distance to Elhokar’s former sitting room and made himself available—visible, easy to reach. Then, when the presence entered the nondescript stone chamber, Wit bowed.
“Welcome, Rayse!” Wit said. “It’s been not nearly long enough.”
I noticed your touch on the contract, a dramatic voice said in his head.
“You’ve always been a clever one,” Wit said. “Was it my brilliant prose that clued you in, my keen bargaining abilities, or the fact that I included my name right there for you to read?”
What game do you play here?
“A game of sense.”
… What?
“Sense, Odium. The only kind I have is nonsense. Well, and some cents…” He glanced down at the coin he still held in his hand, then cocked his head.
I hate you.
“Rayse,” Wit said, looking up, “you’re supposed to be an idiot. Say intelligent things like that too much, and I’ll need to reevaluate.… Anyway, I know you adjusted the contract, trying for an advantage. How does it feel to know that Dalinar Kholin, a simple mortal, has gotten the better of you?”
I shall have my vengeance, Odium said. Even if it takes an eternity, Cephandrius, I will destroy you.
“Enjoy that!” Wit said, striding toward the door. “Let me know how you enjoy the time with yourself. The Beyond knows, no one else can stand your company.”
It doesn’t matter! Odium roared. My champion will destroy Dalinar’s, and then I will use him and my other minions here to do whatever I wish!
“Yes, well,” Wit said from the door, “once you’re done, at least try to remember to wash your hands.” He slammed the door, then spun and continued on his way. He tried to find a tune to whistle, but each one sounded wrong. Something was fiddling with his perfect pitch.
Odium’s presence had remained behind. Was … something wrong?
Don’t trouble yourself, he thought. This is working.
After all, Wit’s first face-to-face meeting with Odium in over a thousand years had gone exactly as he had imagined.