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The rebuilt palace at Kholinar hardly resembles the human fortress beneath it any longer. The original walls have been kept, but the Fused architects of the Altered Ones have grown great curving ridges out of them like sweeping blades, met in a tapered crown at the top, the whole overgrown in shalebark until it feels less like a building than something cultivated. Venli, approaching to the Rhythm of Tension after a day of Leshwi hunting through the city for word of which newly-awakened Fused has unsettled her, lets herself feel a moment of pride — *we did this*. Her ancestors built cities. They had art. They had culture.

A morning Everstorm has called a conclave of the highest singers to the palace, and as Leshwi's Voice she is to attend on her own — the lady will enter through the shanay-im door above. Venli climbs five floors of sweeping staircase and emerges into the cylindrical pinnacle room at the heart of the crown. Some thirty Voices are already in place, jostling for room before their masters. Leshwi hovers near the other Heavenly Ones and nods; Venli cracks the butt of her staff on the stones to declare her ready.

Nine pillars rise at the centre of the chamber. They have been Soulcast around people. The Nine live entombed waist-deep in the rock, faces inward, dependent on Odium's Light alone. The display is paid for not by them but by the singer bodies they killed to put themselves in. Venli forces herself not to look at it for long.

They sing a song that should be a language her envoyform can understand and cannot — Odium himself, she is sure, is forbidding her hearing — and then call Leshwi to report. The northern battle is described: the human ship that flew without Lashings or visible gemstones; a machine, not a Windrunner working. Then the Nine ask after the suppressor sent with the Pursuer — and Leshwi tells them the device worked but was taken by the humans. The blame, she says, lies with Lezian.

Lezian sweeps the formality aside before he is summoned. Venli gets her first look at him — a Husk One, enormous, jagged carapace, red hair almost merged with his black wrap. He admits the killing as proof the Windrunner must be of the Fourth Ideal and claims his ancient right to pursue. While the Nine sing among themselves, Leshwi explains to Venli what he is: the first Fused ever killed by a human, a hero who would not live with the shame, and the founder of a tradition the Nine now indulge — even encourage — but who has crossed from Passion into recklessness in this Return. Then Leshwi herself steps forward, against custom, to claim prior privilege to Stormblessed's life by virtue of his having killed her too. The Nine grant it. Lezian is forbidden the hunt until Leshwi has had her chance. *None of them realise,* Venli thinks, *that she is trying to protect him.*

Leshwi is reprimanded for her station-forgetting boldness but otherwise unscathed. She tells Venli this is not the reason the conclave was called. *The danger I have been fearing is yet to come.*

A figure darkens the doorway. Tall, willowy, fannahn-im — topknot rising from a helmet of carapace, long-fingered hands, robe of luxury. Leshwi hisses *gods, no, not her*. She had been told mad and put back to sleep. The newcomer walks a slow lap of the room so every Fused sees her, then steps into the centre of the Nine and meets their eyes — a thing Venli has never seen done. *Raboniel, Lady of Wishes,* the Nine name her. *You have brought us a proposal. Please speak it.*

Raboniel's proposal is direct. The humans have been allowed too long to grow. There is, perhaps, only one Radiant of the Fourth Ideal, and they do not have full access to the tower now that the Sibling is dead. They must seize it now. The earlier attempt was only a stalling action to isolate the Bondsmith; the real attack is hers. The suppression technology she discovered in the tower thousands of years ago can be inverted: a force led inside while the Bondsmith and Elsecaller are away can take the Sibling's heart, corrupt it, and turn Urithiru's defences against the Radiants inside it. The agent in the humans' inner circle — the king who has given himself to the singers, Taravangian — can divert the two senior Radiants and deliver intelligence on guard patterns.

From the back of the room comes a brashly accented human voice: *What of Stormblessed?* Venli finds him on a raised ledge above the chamber — sharp uniform, perfectly trimmed hair, an Honorblade across his lap. Vyre — the human once called Moash. *He'll stop you,* he tells Raboniel. *You should have a plan.* She isn't afraid of any Windrunner; the Bondsmith and the Elsecaller are her real targets. Vyre pulls his blade-tip back into the shadows.

Leshwi tells Venli who Raboniel is. A scholar, not a warrior. Once known as Lady of Pains until she renamed herself. During the last Return she designed a disease meant to kill every human on Roshar — warned it would kill many singers too, she released it anyway; killed roughly one human in ten and one singer in a hundred. Extinction, she says, is the natural end of this war if you forget why you started it. The Nine, who have stopped pausing to debate, formally accept Raboniel's plan; they had clearly approved it before the room ever convened.

Leshwi intercepts Raboniel on the rooftop balcony as she leaves. Why the objection? *I am not mad,* Leshwi says, *but afraid. Do you truly think you can end the war?* Raboniel does — she has long pondered the discoveries made at the end of the false Return. She produces a fabrial: a glowing gemstone with a shifting spren imprisoned inside. *They imprisoned Unmade in these. How close are they to doing it to us?* This is, she insists, the final Return. The humans will soon learn the trick — or the best of the Fused who remain will go mad. They must find a solution.

Leshwi offers her Venli and her staff for the infiltration — and herself with them, as apology for her objection. Raboniel accepts, eyeing the Last Listener with curiosity. As they part, Venli sees the Pursuer waiting in the shadows below to ask Raboniel — who will hold jurisdiction during the infiltration — for permission to keep hunting his Windrunner. Leshwi orders Venli to gather their people, attend her, and report secretly back. She does not trust the woman: Last time, her recklessness nearly cost everything. *This land is for the ordinary singers to inherit. I will not leave it desolate simply to prove we can murder better than our enemies.*

Venli dares one whispered question — could there one day be a free listener homeland away from Fused and humans both? Leshwi hisses her down: not now, not aloud, win this war first and then the Fused will fade. Venli obeys with her mouth, but Timbre pulses agreement with her real answer — these creatures will not fade willingly, and her ambition is well-placed. Timbre pulses again. *Opportunity?* Venli thinks. The tower. Perhaps among the human Radiants there will be one she can capture and force to teach her. Recruitment, for now, will have to wait. She is going to the front of another invasion.