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Rlain sits alone on the Shattered Plains outside what is now the Alethi occupation of Narak and listens to the rhythms. Enslaved parshmen, deprived of true forms, cannot hear them; in dullform during his spy years he had only heard them weakly, and the silence had been hard. He suspects, despite his people's old assumption, that humans hear faint echoes of them — sometimes their eyes go far-off at a frenzied beat, sometimes they whoop on the Rhythm of Joy without knowing why — and the thought is comforting, because perhaps some day they could be taught. Today he is attuned to the Rhythm of the Lost, for the listeners. The watchpost atop the central spire of Narak is where the Five used to meet to discuss the future of his people, and is now where Alethi sentries stand. His own people had repurposed the ruins of Stormseat into Narak, so he is not offended. He is only mourning. He is, as far as he knows, the last listener. The parshmen the Everstorm has awakened are not his people, no more than Alethi and Vedens are the same nation.

He gets up, shoulders the spear they let him carry — the parshman they have decided to trust, *and isn't he just so lucky* — and crosses to where Teft is drilling squires. Bridge Four love him. They also keep forgetting he is around, and he reads the unsaid thing in their faces: where they had cheered Skar on through every failure to draw Light, they would rather Rlain never manage it at all, the way they would rather Dabbid never tried. *The parshman and the insane man. People you couldn't trust as Windrunners.* Never mind that he has told them you choose a form by opening yourself to it; never mind that he could choose for himself.

Five squires Lash into the sky, light streaming off them. A second group trains a plateau over under Peet — the ten new aspirants, including Lyn and the three other scouts, four bridgemen from other crews, and a single lighteyed officer, Colot the archer captain. Lyn has slipped into Bridge Four's warmth easily, and Rlain tries not to mind that she sometimes looks more like a crewmate than he does.

Teft takes his five up; the four left behind drift over to Rock's drink table. Yake slaps Rlain's back and points him at the next plateau, where the bulk of hopefuls are still learning to hold a spear right; Eth adds — *no offense, Rlain* — that Kalak help them if they have to fight shellheads. Rlain forces a calm reply, but it comes out laced with the Rhythm of Irritation before he can stop it. To cover, he switches to Curiosity and asks what is in Rock's drink of the day. *Water I boiled cremlings in.* Eth sprays his out and complains it is *like their bathwater*; Rock, pleased, calls it chilled and spiced and therefore good.

The talk turns serious. Drehy notes that they cannot patrol the entire Plains; another caravan was hit. Kaladin has said the raids are strange — the raiders break off before doing real damage, scaring more than burning — and Eth suggests the Voidbringers are testing what Bridge Four can do. They look to Rlain for an answer. *Am I supposed to be able to answer?* He has to remind them, carefully, that his people did everything they could to *separate* themselves from the Fused, that they went into hiding generations ago and swore never to take forms of power again, and that he has spent his life avoiding even thinking about these creatures. He cannot guess what they will do.

Teft's squad comes down out of the sky; Skar, for all his struggles to draw Light, is the most graceful lander. Hobber hits hard and yelps. They cluster at the drink table, where Rock's eldest daughter and son refill cups; Rlain feels sorry for the children — they barely speak Alethi, and the boy is improbably Vorin because Rock lets his children follow any god they want. Rlain sips his drink and wishes Renarin were there. Renarin always makes a point of speaking with him.

Kaladin lands with the patrol, Lopen juggling an uncut gemheart the size of a man's head from a chasmfiend chrysalis they had found. No Voidbringers today. Kaladin cancels the remaining patrols — he has a meeting with Dalinar — and Sigzil's measurement of the squires' tether becomes load-bearing: once Kaladin steps through the Oathgate, the rest of them will lose their powers within an hour or two, abilities fading at thirty miles and gone by fifty.

Skar swerves the topic. *So… are we going to talk about Renarin?* He has been spending real time with the scribes; the other day he sounded like he was learning to read. *It's feminine,* says Drehy. *Drehy,* Kaladin points out, *you are literally courting a man.* Lopen saves the moment with a perfectly Lopen contortion — wanting to be around women *less* than everyone else is, technically, the opposite of feminine; Drehy is *extra manly* — and Rlain, watching them stumble around being constantly in mateform, feels a kind of secondhand embarrassment for humans who do not get to put that aside. Kaladin cools the room: half of Bridge Four are halfway to lighteyes, five women are in the crew with spears, expectations are being upended on every side. They can give Renarin a little room to be a scholar.

Rock turns the moment. *During last few weeks, how many of you have come to me, saying you feel you don't fit in with Bridge Four now?* Hands go up: Sigzil, Skar, several others. *Hobber, you did not come to me.* *Yeah, but I felt like it.* Leyten admits, softly, that he still has nightmares about what they found in the bowels of Urithiru and asks whether anyone else does. Huio says his bad Alethi leaves him feeling embarrassing and alone. Torfin says heights still terrify him. They glance at Teft, who snaps at the whole storming feelings-sharing party and tells them to storm off; Natam pats him on the shoulder. Rock adds his own — he will not fight, he is the only one with a proper beard, this also leaves him a little outside — and lands the line: *Life is changing. We will all feel alone because of this, yes? Perhaps we can feel alone together.*

It comforts everyone, except Lopen, who has wandered off and is busily lifting up rocks on the far side of the plateau to look underneath each one. The rest relax and begin to chat. Hobber slaps Rlain on the back, which is as close as anyone in the circle came to asking how *he* felt. *Childish of me to be frustrated?* he thinks. They all believe they are alone, do they? Felt outside? Do they know what it is like to be of an entirely different species — a species they are currently at war with, whose members have all been either killed or made into vessels for old gods? People in Urithiru watch him with outright hatred. His friends do not; his friends like to *congratulate themselves* for not doing so. *We understand that you're not like the others, Rlain.* He attunes Annoyance and stays where he is until Kaladin sends the rest off to train the aspiring Windrunners and turns back. *Rlain, why don't you take the rest of the day off?* *What if I don't want special accommodation because you feel sorry for me?* Kaladin squats beside him on an overturned bucket. *Hey. You heard what Rock said. I know how you feel. We can help you shoulder this.* *Do you really?* Rlain asks. *Or is that simply a thing that men say?* *I guess it's a thing men say,* Kaladin admits, then pulls his bucket closer. *Can you tell me how it feels?* Rlain considers him for a long moment, then attunes the Rhythm of Resolve. *I can try.*