The townspeople were still. Oddly so. Many of the boys Kaladin had heard talk so often about joining the army looked away. Kaladin felt his heart beating, and his leg twitched, as if itching to propel him forward.

No. He was to be a surgeon. Lirin looked at him, and his dark brown eyes displayed hints of deep concern. But when Kaladin didn’t make any moves forward, he relaxed.

“Very well,” Amaram said, nodding to Roshone. “We will need your list after all.”

“List?” Lirin asked loudly.

Amaram glanced at him. “The need of our army is great, darkborn. I will take volunteers first, but the army must be replenished. As citylord, my cousin has the duty and honor of deciding which men to send.”

“Read the first four names, Alaxia,” Roshone said, “and the last one.”

Alaxia looked down at her list, speaking with a dry voice. “Agil, son of Marf. Caull, son of Taleb.”

Kaladin looked up at Lirin with apprehension.

“He can’t take you,” Lirin said. “We’re of the second nahn and provide an essential function to the town—I as surgeon, you as my only apprentice. By the law, we are exempt from conscription. Roshone knows it.”

“Habrin, son of Arafik,” Alaxia continued. “Jorna, son of Loats.” She hesitated, then looked up. “Tien, son of Lirin.”

There was a stillness across the square. Even the rain seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then, all eyes turned toward Tien. The boy looked dumbfounded. Lirin was immune as town surgeon, Kaladin immune as his apprentice.

But not Tien. He was a carpenter’s third apprentice, not vital, not immune.

Hesina gripped Tien tightly. “No!”

Lirin stepped in front of them, defensive. Kaladin stood stunned, looking at Roshone. Smiling, self-satisfied Roshone.

We took his son, Kaladin realized, meeting those beady eyes. This is his revenge.

“I…” Tien said. “The military?” For once, he seemed to lose his confidence, his optimism. His eyes opened wide, and he grew very pale. He fainted when he saw blood. He hated fighting. He was still small and spindly despite his age.

“He’s too young,” Lirin declared. Their neighbors sidled away, leaving Lirin’s family to stand alone in the rain.

Amaram frowned. “In the cities, youths as young as eight and nine are accepted into the military.”

“Lighteyed sons!” Lirin said. “To be trained as officers. They aren’t sent into battle!”

Amaram frowned more deeply. He stepped out into the rain, walking up to the family. “How old are you, son?” he asked Tien.

“He’s thirteen,” Lirin said.

Amaram glanced at him. “The surgeon. I’ve heard of you.” He sighed, glancing back at Amaram. “I haven’t the time to engage in your petty, small-town politics, cousin. Isn’t there another boy that will do?”

“It is my choice!” Roshone insisted. “Given me by the dictates of law. I send those the town can spare—well, that boy is the first one we can spare.”

Lirin stepped forward, eyes full of anger. Highmarshal Amaram caught him by the arm. “Do not do something you would regret, darkborn. Roshone has acted according to the law.”

“You hid behind the law, sneering at me, surgeon,” Roshone called to Lirin. “Well, now it turns against you. Keep those spheres! The look on your face at this moment is worth the price of every one of them!”

“I…” Tien said again. Kaladin had never seen the boy so terrified.

Kaladin felt powerless. The crowd’s eyes were on Lirin, standing with his arm in the grip of the lighteyed general, locking his gaze with Roshone.

“I’ll make the lad a runner boy for a year or two,” Amaram promised. “He won’t be in combat. It is the best I can do. Every body is needed in these times.”

Lirin slumped, then bowed his head. Roshone laughed, motioning Laral toward the carriage. She didn’t glance at Kaladin as she climbed back in. Roshone followed, and though he was still laughing, his expression had grown hard. Lifeless. Like the dull clouds above. He had his revenge, but his son was still dead and he was still stuck in Hearthstone.

Amaram regarded the crowd. “The recruits may bring two changes of clothing and up to three stoneweights of other possessions. They will be weighed. Report to the army in two hours and ask for Sergeant Hav.” He turned and followed Roshone.

Tien stared after him, pale as a whitewashed building. Kaladin could see his terror at leaving his family. His brother, the one who always made him smile when it rained. It was physically painful for Kaladin to see him so scared. It wasn’t right. Tien should smile. That was who he was.

He felt the wooden horse in his pocket. Tien always brought him relief when he felt pained. Suddenly, it occurred to him that there was something he could do in turn. It’s time to stop hiding in the room when someone else holds up the globe of light, Kaladin thought. It’s time to be a man.

“Brightlord Amaram!” Kaladin yelled.

The general hesitated, standing on the stepstool into the carriage, one foot in the door. He glanced over his shoulder.

“I want to take Tien’s place,” Kaladin said.

“Not allowed!” Roshone said from inside the carriage. “The law says I may choose.”

Amaram nodded grimly.

“Then what if you take me as well,” Kaladin said. “Can I volunteer?” That way, at least, Tien wouldn’t be alone.

“Kaladin!” Hesina said, grabbing him on one arm.

“It is allowed,” Amaram said. “I will not turn away any soldier, son. If you want to join, you are welcome.”

“Kaladin, no,” Lirin said. “Don’t both of you go. Don’t—”

Kaladin looked at Tien, the boy’s face wet beneath his wide-brimmed hat. He shook his head, but his eyes seemed hopeful.

“I volunteer,” Kaladin said, turning back to Amaram. “I’ll go.”

“Then you have two hours,” Amaram said, climbing into the carriage. “Same possession allotment as the others.”

The carriage door shut, but not before Kaladin got a glimpse of an even more satisfied Roshone. Rattling, the vehicle splashed away, dropping a sheet of water from its roof.

“Why?” Lirin said, turning back to Kaladin, his voice ragged. “Why have you done this to me? After all of our plans!”

Kaladin turned to Tien. The boy took his arm. “Thank you,” Tien whispered. “Thank you, Kaladin. Thank you.”

“I’ve lost both of you,” Lirin said hoarsely, splashing away. “Storm it! Both of you.” He was crying. Kaladin’s mother was crying too. She clutched Tien again.

“Father!” Kaladin said, turning, amazed at how confident he felt.

Lirin paused, standing in the rain, one foot in a puddle where rainspren clustered. They inched away from him like vertical slugs.

“In four years, I will bring him home safely,” Kaladin said. “I promise it by the storms and the Almighty’s tenth name itself. I will bring him back.”

I promise….

“Yelignar, called Blightwind, was one that could speak like a man, though often his voice was accompanied by the wails of those he consumed.”