“Adolin and I both spoke with ardents,” Dalinar replied. “They said it was very unlikely that this would come from the Almighty. If we do decide the visions are to be trusted, many will disagree with me.”
Navani settled back, sipping her wine, safehand lying across her lap. “Dalinar, your sons told me that you once sought the Old Magic. Why? What did you ask of the Nightwatcher, and what curse did she give you in return?”
“I told them that shame is my own,” Dalinar said. “And I will not share it.”
The room fell silent. The flurries of rain following the highstorm had ceased falling on the roof. “It might be important,” Navani finally said.
“It was long ago. Long before the visions began. I don’t think it’s related.”
“But it could be.”
“Yes,” he admitted. Would that day never stop haunting him? Was not losing all memory of his wife enough?
What did Renarin think? Would he condemn his father for such an egregious sin? Dalinar forced himself to look up and meet his son’s bespectacled eyes.
Curiously, Renarin didn’t seem bothered. Just thoughtful.
“I’m sorry you had to discover my shame,” Dalinar said, looking to Navani.
She waved indifferently. “Soliciting the Old Magic is offensive to the devotaries, but their punishments for the act are never severe. I assume that you didn’t have to do much to be cleansed.”
“The ardents asked for spheres to give the poor,” Dalinar said. “And I had to commission a series of prayers. None of that removed the effects or my sense of guilt.”
“I think you’d be surprised at how many devout lighteyes turn to the Old Magic at one point in their lives or another. The ones who can make their way to the Valley, at least. But I do wonder if this is related.”
“Aunt,” Renarin said, turning to her. “I have recently asked for a number of readings about the Old Magic. I agree with his assessment. This does not feel like the work of the Nightwatcher. She gives curses in exchange for granting small desires. Always one curse and one desire. Father, I assume you know what both of those things are?”
“Yes,” he said. “I know exactly what my curse was, and it does not relate to this.”
“Then it is unlikely that the Old Magic is to blame.”
“Yes,” Dalinar said. “But your aunt is right to question. The truth is, we don’t have any proof that this came from the Almighty either. Something wants me to know of the Desolations and the Knights Radiant. Perhaps we should start asking ourselves why that is.”
“What were the Desolations, Aunt?” Renarin asked. “The ardents talk of the Voidbringers. Of mankind, and the Radiants, and of fighting. But what were they really? Do we know anything specific?”
“There are folklorists among your father’s clerks who would serve you better in this matter.”
“Perhaps,” Dalinar added, “but I’m not sure which of them I can trust.”
Navani paused. “Fair enough. Well, from what I understand, there are no primary accounts remaining. This was long, long ago. I do recall that the myth of Parasaphi and Nadris mentions the Desolations.”
“Parasaphi,” Renarin said. “She’s the one who searched out the seedstones.”
“Yes,” Navani replied. “In order to repopulate her fallen people, she climbed the peaks of Dara – the myth changes, listing different modern mountain ranges as the true peaks of Dara – to find stones touched by the Heralds themselves. She brought them to Nadris on his deathbed and harvested his seed to bring life to the stones. They hatched forth ten children, which she used to found a new nation. Marnah, I believe it was called.”
“Origin of the Makabaki,” Renarin said. “Mother told me that story when I was a child.”
Dalinar shook his head. “Born from rocks?” The old stories rarely made much sense to him, although the devotaries had canonized many of them.
“The story mentions the Desolations at the beginning,” Navani said. “Giving them credit for having wiped out Parasaphi’s people.”
“But what were they?”
“Wars.” Navani took a sip of wine. “The Voidbringers came again and again, trying to force mankind off Roshar and into Damnation. Just as they once forced mankind – and the Heralds – out of the Tranquiline Halls.”
“When were the Knights Radiant founded?” Dalinar asked.
Navani shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps they were some military group from a specific kingdom, or perhaps they were originally a mercenary band. That would make it easy to see how they could eventually become tyrants.”
“My visions don’t imply that they were tyrants,” he said. “Perhaps that is the true purpose of the visions. To make me believe lies about the Radiants. Making me trust them, perhaps trying to lead me to mimic their downfall and betrayal.”
“I don’t know,” Navani said, sounding skeptical. “I don’t think you’ve seen anything untrue about the Radiants. The legends tend to agree that the Radiants weren’t always so bad. As much as the legends agree on anything, at least.”
Dalinar stood and took her nearly empty cup, then walked over to the serving table and refilled it. Discovering that he was not mad should have helped clear things up, but instead left him more disturbed. What if the Voidbringers were behind the visions? Some stories he heard said that they could possess the bodies of men and make them do evil. Or, if they were from the Almighty, what was their purpose?
“I need to think on all of this,” he said. “It has been a long day. Please, if I could be left to my own thoughts now.”
Renarin rose and bowed his head in respect before heading to the door. Navani rose more slowly, sleek dress rustling as she set her cup on the table, then walked over to fetch her pain-drinking fabrial. Renarin left, and Dalinar walked to the doorway, waiting as Navani approached. He didn’t intend to let her trap him alone again. He looked out the doorway. His soldiers were there, and he could see them. Good.
“Aren’t you pleased at all?” Navani asked, lingering beside the doorway near him, one hand on the frame.
“Pleased?”
“You aren’t going mad.”
“And we don’t know if I’m being manipulated or not,” he said. “In a way, we have more questions now than we had before.”
“The visions are a blessing,” Navani said, laying her freehand on his arm. “I feel it, Dalinar. Don’t you see how wonderful this is?”
Dalinar met her eyes, light violet, beautiful. She was so thoughtful, so clever. How he wished he could trust her completely.
She has shown me nothing but honor, he thought. Never speaking a word to anyone else of my intention to abdicate. She hasn’t so much as tried to use my visions against me. He felt ashamed that he’d once worried that she might.
She was a wonderful woman, Navani Kholin. A wonderful, amazing, dangerous woman.
“I see more worries,” he said. “And more danger.”
“But Dalinar, you’re having experiences scholars, historians, and folklorists could only dream about! I envy you, although you claim to have seen no fabrials of note.”
“The ancients didn’t have fabrials, Navani. I’m certain of it.”
“And that changes everything we thought we understood about them.”
“I suppose.”
“Stonefalls, Dalinar,” she said, sighing. “Does nothing bring you to passion any longer?”
Dalinar took a deep breath. “Too many things, Navani. My insides feel like a mass of eels, emotions squirming over one another. The truth of these visions is unsettling.”
“It’s exciting,” she corrected. “Did you mean what you said earlier? About trusting me?”
“I said that?”
“You said you didn’t trust your clerks, and you asked me to record the visions. There’s an implication in that.”
Her hand was still on his arm. She reached out with her safehand and closed the door to the hallway. He almost stopped her, but he hesitated. Why?