Such accommodations weren’t good enough for the Blackthorn’s horse. No, the massive black Ryshadium stallion had been given his own field. Large enough to serve as a pasture, it was open to the sky and in an enviable spot, if you discounted the scents of the other animals.
As Adolin emerged from the tower, the black monster of a horse came galloping over. Big enough to carry a Shardbearer without looking small, Ryshadium were often called the “third Shard.” Blade, Plate, and Mount.
That didn’t do them justice. You couldn’t earn a Ryshadium simply by defeating someone in combat. They chose their riders.
But, Adolin thought as Gallant nuzzled his hand, I suppose that was how it used to be with Blades too. They were spren who chose their bearers.
“Hey,” Adolin said, scratching the Ryshadium’s snout with his left hand. “A little lonely out here, isn’t it? I’m sorry about that. Wish you weren’t alone any—” He cut off as his voice caught in his throat.
Gallant stepped closer, towering over him, but somehow still gentle. The horse nuzzled Adolin’s neck, then blew out sharply.
“Ugh,” Adolin said, turning the horse’s head. “That’s a scent I could do without.” He patted Gallant’s neck, then reached with his right hand into his shoulder pack—before a sharp pain from his wrist reminded him yet again of his wound. He reached in with the other hand and took out some sugar lumps, which Gallant consumed eagerly.
“You’re as bad as Aunt Navani,” Adolin noted. “That’s why you came running, isn’t it? You smelled treats.”
The horse turned his head, looking at Adolin with one watery blue eye, rectangular pupil at the center. He almost seemed … offended.
Adolin often had felt he could read his own Ryshadium’s emotions. There had been a … bond between him and Sureblood. More delicate and indefinable than the bond between man and sword, but still there.
Of course, Adolin was the one who talked to his sword sometimes, so he had a habit of this sort of thing.
“I’m sorry,” Adolin said. “I know the two of you liked to run together. And … I don’t know if Father will be able to get down as much to see you. He’d already been withdrawing from battle before he got all these new responsibilities. I thought I’d stop by once in a while.”
The horse snorted loudly.
“Not to ride you,” Adolin said, reading indignation in the Ryshadium’s motions. “I just thought it might be nice for both of us.”
The horse poked his snout at Adolin’s satchel until he dug out another sugar cube. It seemed like agreement to Adolin, who fed the horse, then leaned back against the wall and watched him gallop through the pasture.
Showing off, Adolin thought with amusement as Gallant pranced past him. Maybe Gallant would let him brush his coat. That would feel good, like the evenings he’d spent with Sureblood in the dark calm of the stables. At least, that was what he’d done before everything had gotten busy, with Shallan and the duels and everything else.
He’d ignored the horse right up until he’d needed Sureblood in battle. And then, in a flash of light, he was gone.
Adolin took a deep breath. Everything seemed insane these days. Not just Sureblood, but what he’d done to Sadeas, and now the investigation …
Watching Gallant seemed to help a little. Adolin was still there, leaning against the wall, when Renarin arrived. The younger Kholin poked his head through the doorway, looking around. He didn’t shy away when Gallant galloped past, but he did regard the stallion with wariness.
“Hey,” Adolin said from the side.
“Hey. Bashin said you were down here.”
“Just checking on Gallant,” Adolin said. “Because Father’s been so busy lately.”
Renarin approached. “You could ask Shallan to draw Sureblood,” Renarin said. “I bet, um, she’d be able to do a good job. To remember.”
It wasn’t a bad suggestion, actually. “Were you looking for me, then?”
“I…” Renarin watched Gallant as the horse pranced by again. “He’s excited.”
“He likes an audience.”
“They don’t fit, you know.”
“Don’t fit?”
“Ryshadium have stone hooves,” Renarin said, “stronger than ordinary horses’. Never need to be shod.”
“And that makes them not fit? I’d say that makes them fit better.…” Adolin eyed Renarin. “You mean ordinary horses, don’t you?”
Renarin blushed, then nodded. People had trouble following him sometimes, but that was merely because he tended to be so thoughtful. He’d be thinking about something deep, something brilliant, and then would only mention a part. It made him seem erratic, but once you got to know him, you realized he wasn’t trying to be esoteric. His lips just sometimes failed to keep up with his brain.
“Adolin,” he said softly. “I … um … I have to give you back the Shardblade you won for me.”
“Why?” Adolin said.
“It hurts to hold,” Renarin said. “It always has, to be honest. I thought it was just me, being strange. But it’s all of us.”
“Radiants, you mean.”
He nodded. “We can’t use the dead Blades. It’s not right.”
“Well, I suppose I could find someone else to use it,” Adolin said, running through options. “Though you should really be the one to choose. By right of bestowal, the Blade is yours, and you should pick the successor.”
“I’d rather you do it. I’ve given it to the ardents already, for safekeeping.”
“Which means you’ll be unarmed,” Adolin said.
Renarin glanced away.
“Or not,” Adolin said, then poked Renarin in the shoulder. “You’ve got a replacement already, don’t you.”
Renarin blushed again.
“You mink!” Adolin said. “You’ve managed to create a Radiant Blade? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“It just happened. Glys wasn’t certain he could do it … but we need more people to work the Oathgate … so…”
He took a deep breath, then stretched his hand to the side and summoned a long glowing Shardblade. Thin, with almost no crossguard, it had waving folds to the metal, like it had been forged.
“Gorgeous,” Adolin said. “Renarin, it’s fantastic!”
“Thanks.”
“So why are you embarrassed?”
“I’m … not?”
Adolin gave him a flat stare.
Renarin dismissed the Blade. “I simply … Adolin, I was starting to fit in. With Bridge Four, with being a Shardbearer. Now, I’m in the darkness again. Father expects me to be a Radiant, so I can help him unite the world. But how am I supposed to learn?”
Adolin scratched his chin with his good hand. “Huh. I assumed that it just kind of came to you. It hasn’t?”
“Some has. But it … frightens me, Adolin.” He held up his hand, and it started to glow, wisps of Stormlight trailing off it, like smoke from a fire. “What if I hurt someone, or ruin things?”
“You’re not going to,” Adolin said. “Renarin, that’s the power of the Almighty himself.”
Renarin only stared at that glowing hand, and didn’t seem convinced. So Adolin reached out with his good hand and took Renarin’s, holding it.
“This is good,” Adolin said to him. “You’re not going to hurt anyone. You’re here to save us.”
Renarin looked to him, then smiled. A pulse of Radiance washed through Adolin, and for an instant he saw himself perfected. A version of himself that was somehow complete and whole, the man he could be.