The Way of Kings

“Fair enough,” he said, joining her and strolling around the perimeter of the Palanaeum. The hollow inverted pyramid rose toward the ceiling far above, the four walls expanding outward at a slant. The topmost levels were brighter and easier to make out, tiny lights bobbing along railings in the hands of ardents or scholars.

“Fifty-seven levels,” Shallan said. “I can’t even imagine how much work it must have been for you to create all this.”

“We didn’t create it,” Kabsal said. “It was here. The main shaft, at least. The Kharbranthians cut out the rooms for the books.”

“This formation is natural?”

“As natural as cities like Kholinar. Or have you forgotten my demonstration?”

“No. But why didn’t you use this place as one of your examples?”

“We haven’t found the right sand pattern yet,” he said. “But we’re sure the Almighty himself made this place, as he did the cities.”

“What about the Dawnsingers?” Shallan asked.

“What about them?”

“Could they have created it?”

He chuckled as they arrived at the lift. “That isn’t the kind of thing the Dawnsingers did. They were healers, kindly spren sent by the Almighty to care for humans once we were forced out of the Tranquiline Halls.”

“Kind of like the opposite of the Voidbringers.”

“I suppose you could say that.

“Take us down two levels,” she told the parshman lift porters. They began lowering the platform, the pulleys squeaking and wood shaking beneath her feet.

“If you think to distract me with this conversation,” Kabsal noted, folding his arms and leaning back against the railing, “you won’t be successful. I sat up there with your disapproving mistress for well over an hour, and let me say that it was not a pleasant experience. I think she knows I still intend to try and convert her.”

“Of course she does. She’s Jasnah. She knows practically everything.”

“Except whatever it is she came here to study.”

“The Voidbringers,” Shallan said. “That’s what she’s studying.”

He frowned. A few moments later, the lift came to a rest on the appropriate floor. “The Voidbringers?” he said, sounding curious. She’d have expected him to be scornful or amused. No, she thought. He’s an ardent. He believes in them.

“What were they?” she asked, walking out. Not far below, the massive cavern came to a point. There was a large infused diamond there, marking the nadir.

“We don’t like to talk about it,” Kabsal said as he joined her.

“Why not? You’re an ardent. This is part of your religion.”

“An unpopular part. People prefer to hear about the Ten Divine Attributes or the Ten Human Failings. We accommodate them because we, also, prefer that to the deep past.”

“Because…” she prodded.

“Because,” he said with a sigh, “of our failure. Shallan, the devotaries – at their core – are still classical Vorinism. That means the Hierocracy and the fall of the Lost Radiants are our shame.” He held up his deep blue lantern. Shallan strolled at his side, curious, letting him just talk.

“We believe that the Voidbringers were real, Shallan. A scourge and a plague. A hundred times they came upon mankind. First casting us from the Tranquiline Halls, then trying to destroy us here on Roshar. They weren’t just spren that hid under rocks, then came out to steal someone’s laundry. They were creatures of terrible destructive power, forged in Damnation, created from hate.”

“By whom?” Shallan asked.

“What?”

“Who made them? I mean, the Almighty wasn’t likely to have ‘created something from hate.’ So what made them?”

“Everything has its opposite, Shallan. The Almighty is a force of good. To balance his goodness, the cosmere needed the Voidbringers as his opposite.”

“So the more good that the Almighty did, the more evil he created as a by-product? What’s the point of doing any good at all if it just creates more evil?”

“I see Jasnah has continued your training in philosophy.”

“That’s not philosophy,” Shallan said. “That’s simple logic.”

He sighed. “I don’t think you want to get into the deep theology of this. Suffice it to say that the Almighty’s pure goodness created the Voidbringers, but men may choose good without creating evil because as mortals they have a dual nature. Thus the only way for good to increase in the cosmere is for men to create it – in that way, good may come to outweigh evil.”

“All right,” she said. “But I don’t buy the explanation about the Voidbringers.”

“I thought you were a believer.”

“I am. But just because I honor the Almighty doesn’t mean I’m going to accept any explanation, Kabsal. It might be religion, but it still has to make sense.”

“Didn’t you once tell me that you didn’t understand your own self?”

“Well, yes.”

“And yet you expect to be able to understand the exact workings of the Almighty?”

She drew her lips into a line. “All right, fine. But I still want to know more about the Voidbringers.”