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"I'm heading out," Tarah called, packing her desk. She flexed her fingers, working out the cramps.
"Where do you think you're heading? We get off for the Queen’s Progress at eight bell today, not seventh," Sharill said, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
Tarah sighed, standing up. "The boss gave me extra leave after I ended up working long last week. I want to get a good spot to watch from."
Sharill opened her mouth, no doubt to say something snide, but Mim cut in.
"I'll bring you chouta if you save us a spot too!" She said cheerfully.
"Deal!" Tarah said. "I'm planning on setting up on the cross street with third, hopefully somewhere near the reserve’s steps."
"You know the Queen isn’t actually going to be there, right?" Sharill said as Tarah filed her last correspondences
Tarah didn’t answer, but Sharill didn’t need prompting to keep going. "It's just her representatives, and most of them are bureaucrats, and you know they'll be making more work for us while they're in town, since every business will be scrambling like lurgs to prove they've been following the reforms."
“I know,” Tarah said with a sigh. “They already are. Most of my extra work last week was pulling records on city construction, since apparently the end of war housing office at the time didn't think their job was going to last long enough for — anyway, it was a whole thing.”
“The housing office is a mess,” Mim agreed, grimacing.
Tarah shut the cabinet with a bit too much force, locking the cabinet as she finished. “And yes, Sharill, no one actually expects the Queen to be everywhere at once.”
"Yeah, come on, one of the representatives is supposed to be Highmarshall Stormblessed ," Mim said excitedly. "I mean you're going, aren't you?"
Sharill sniffed, but didn't say anything else before Tarah left.
She made her way along the main street. Ribbons and ropes already blocked off the middle, but the sides weren't too crowded yet. A few people had started setting up, staking out the best spots, but not many. Banners and flags decorated buildings. Everything metal had been polished to a gleam, night time sphere lamps were uncovered, and filled brighter and higher than usual.
When she reached the wide stone front step to the reserve building, it was easy enough to spread out a cloak without anyone arguing. Like she thought, there was a good view up and down the planned procession route, and even if some brightlords came last minute and tried to push her out of the way, she would be able to move up and still see.
Nodding to herself, she pulled out a book and settled down, ignoring any fluttering in her stomach.
It was a good read, a funny commentary on some of the upheavals in historical scholarship that the reintroduction of communication with shadesmar had brought.
Whole theories that had been overturned at the casual word of an ancient lightspren, only to be overturned again when a cultivationspren said the lightspren was joking, or maybe just lying.
The time passed quickly enough, street filling in around her. It was a small struggle to keep extra room around her, but really only a small one. The increasingly excited crowd was abnormally polite, with a minimum amount of jostling and an usual amount of respect for women, children and the elderly.
No one wanted to be caught looking even slightly dishonorable today.
"Excuse us! We have seats held in front by one of our party!"
Tarah sighed as she got to her feet, but couldn't quite hold back the smile which broke across her face as Sharill's voice cut through the crowd around her. Brusque as the woman could be, it was nice to have her around when trying to get somewhere in a hurry, or dealing with overbearing clients.
Sharill had taken to the reduction of lighteye privileges — or rather the blurring of dark and light eye rights — with utter glee, as though she had been waiting her entire life to talk down to lighteyes the same as dark. Which she probably had.
In a lot of ways, Tarah looked up to her.
"There you are! You couldn't have brought more than a cloak to hold a spot? Or at least worn something more brightly colored so we could find you in this mess?" Mim and Tarah rolled their eyes at Sharill in unison.
In a lot of ways, Tarah barely put up with her.
"Thank you for holding spots for us," Mim said pointedly. "It was good of you."
"Of course. I've mostly just been reading, not much effort."
"Still," Mim said handing her a wrap, "Why did you need to get a spot? I know you worked late last week on purpose, just for this. You don't generally get extremely excited about spectacle. I had to push you to go that lightweaver showcase last year."
"I loved that!" Tarah protested.
"Yes, but you weren't exactly waiting for tickets all week. You even said you were worried there wouldn't be enough spaces for everyone, and you wanted other people to have a chance to go see first. But this you insisted on being in front for, and its probably not going to be as exciting."
Tarah thought it over, chewing carefully. Almighty above, she didn't want to stain her blouse, not today. Officials were moving up and down the main thoroughfare increasingly frequently. They'd be coming soon.
When she finished, Sharill handed her a wipe and breathfresher. Tarah took it gratefully, ignoring any implicit passive aggressiveness.
"Well?" Sharill said impatiently.
"I —" Tarah blew a breath out through her lips. It's not like I'll be able to hide my reaction if it does turn out to be him. And I'm fairly sure it will be.
"I used to court a spearman," Tarah admitted. "When my father was a quartermaster in one of Sadeas’ border armies. He… he had the same name as a Windrunner. I wanted to see if…"
Mim let out a high pitched noise of delight, waving her hands. "Oh! Which one? Peet Mountain Slayer? Lopen the Brilliant? Scar ?"
Tarah’s face heated, and she looked away, not answering.
Sharill laughed, delicately putting her freehand in front of her mouth. "You do know Scar isn't exactly an uncommon nickname for a spearman."
Tarah's face remained hot, but she was fairly sure it wasn’t near enough to be noticeable, and she met Sharill’s gaze firmly. "I know there's every chance it won't be him. I just… want to see. Honestly it would be wonderful simply to know he was alive. We were so young…”
Sharill snorted, shaking her head, but Mim sighed dreamily. "A windrunner...oh! But what about Robb! I thought you two were serious."
Tarah laughed. "I don't — even if he remembers me I'm not expecting to run away with him . Honestly, I can’t imagine wanting to. I love Robb, we're just waiting until we save up a little more to get married, so we can afford to move in together somewhere nice. I haven't even seen — it’s been a decade, Mim. Really, look — he was a good man, and my friend, before we courted. It would mean a lot to know he made it through everything alright."
Mim seemed to accept that, though she was bouncing on her toes, poking her head eagerly over the ribbons that delicately marked the parade route, until a uniformed official snapped at her not to press in.
Sharill kept shaking her head and muttering just loud enough to be heard, but Tarah tuned her out.
Finally, they came .
The local brightlord and his appointed cabinet — equal parts darkeyed, lighteyed, and Singer — walked in front, gemstones gleaming on their well appointed suits. Behind them, a woman on horseback. She raised her hands, and started glowing .
The crowd drew in a breath, awespren all but forming clouds. Tarah was not immune — a true desolation might have come and gone, radiants may have been back in the world for several years now, but it was still... wonderful.
Ribbons of light, banners of color forming animals and men and fantastical shapes stretched over those lined up to wait. Many danced overhead, sparking oohs and awws from the crowd. Some illusions stayed low, obscuring the back ranks of Queen's bureaucrats.
Tarah frowned, not sure if she should be offended on behalf of her fellow clerks. Surely they deserved their own moment of recognition?
But then a brilliant purple illusory santhid moved, and she could see one of them, face nervous, shoulders hunched as they stared at the eager eyed crowd. She was younger than Tarah . Ah.
The ones at the front were beaming, heads high — and the illusions allowed the ones at the back to hide in plain sight. That was almost kind as it was clever.
And then — in the back for some reason — there were two figures walking. A tall man in a blue uniform, with long hair. Next to him was a glowing, pale blue woman. That was all she could see from here — she would have to wait until they got closer to see his face.
The cheers grew loudest as they passed.
Five figures, glowing brilliant, marched behind them. Never the same five though, constantly switching off with another dozen in the sky. Above and around, men and women were flying. They swooped above the audience, trailing windspren.
People held spheres up as they passed by. Children screeched with delight and flags were whipped back and forth by the winds as they spun in tight, brilliant circles.
"Well?" Mim said, leaning in to be heard above the crowd's roar. "Do you see him?"
Tarah continued to look at the people flying above. It seemed safe to continue staring at flying, glowing radiants. Everyone was doing it. Who wouldn't?
"Well?" Sharill said, sounding much more doubtful than Mim, but still asking.
She finally let herself look down. Look at him.
Stormblessed.
It had to be him: the height, the hair, the honorspren gliding by his side. Everyone knew there very few radiants high ranked enough to have such a strong connection to their spren in this realm, though the details weren’t public knowledge. He wasn't in Shardplate, but sheer presence alone, the way the windrunners orbited around him — this had to be the kingdom's hero, the world's hero — Highmarshall Kaladin Stormblessed.
It was also Kal.
His shoulders were broader, the lines on his face more pronounced. There was silver in his hair, for all he would be not yet thirty. But it was him.
"Yes," she said, voice catching.
She cleared her throat. "Yes," she repeated, a bit louder. "I see him."
Mim followed her gaze, then grabbed her upper arm, almost hard enough to hurt.
"Kaladin Stormblessed?" she yelled. "You used to court Kaladin Stormblessed ?"
Tarah winced — there was a reason she hadn't mentioned this before. The sounds of the crowd were enough to mostly drown out Mim, but not completely, not to those right around them. Someone to their left made a disbelieving noise. A man behind them laughed.
Sharill let out a loud, overly dramatic groan. "Really Tarah? I was willing to accept that you might have had a teenage courtship with a spearman who got lucky, but you honestly expect me to believe you were courted by Kaladin Stormblessed ?"
"I never expect you to do anything," Tarah snapped.
She continued staring at him. Honestly, she wasn't sure if she would have recognized him, had she not known where to look. He was the same man, but… storms he had changed.
He always had presence, Heralds, sixteen years old and grown men would gravitate towards him for orders.
But now — it was as if the air itself seemed to bend around him. Someone out of a sprenstory. The light coming from his skin was almost invisible in the daylight, but he didn't need to glow or fly, one look at him and you could believe every wild rumor of whole enemy armies laying down their arms and swearing allegiance, begging for the right to follow him.
Still...Tarah squinted. He had that line of tension running from his jaw through his neck, that stiff vein that meant he was hungry and ignoring it. She blew air from her lips in exasperation and shook her head slightly — she bet he hadn't eaten all day, too wrapped in work.
After she saw that, it was a bit easier to look at him without feeling intimidated. He was still a man, a man she used to love. He just had… Storms . He had gotten a LOT of promotions.
He scanned the crowd, the way old soldiers scanned a room. Their eyes met — his were blue now, which was a shock, for all she had been expecting it.
Then his gaze moved away, passing over her without a hitch.
She ruthlessly pushed down any disappointment. Sharill sniggered, but honestly it sounded forced. Maybe she was projecting, but the woman sounded a little disappointed.
Well, he wasn't the only one who had changed over the last decade. A famine, then a well paying job and a partner who liked to cook had softened whatever few angles she might have had in the army, further rounding out the lines of her face and adding extra curves to her figure. For Ash’s sake, she barely recognized her reflection sometimes; her face had been smashed in during one of the first terrible everstorms, and her nose had healed back slightly crooked.
Then he looked back.
Oh storms, he was looking right at her, brow wrinkled.
The procession had brought them nearly level with each other, though a fair amount of space still separated the center of the parade from where the public had been allowed to stand.
Sharill grasped her right arm firmly.
"Stormblessed? You and Highmarshall Stormblessed ?" she hissed.
"He wasn't — he wasn't a highmarshall, then,” Tarah said inanely, not looking away. “Amaram was Highmarshall. Kal was a spearman."
“Amaram the traitor?" Mim asked with genuine interest.
"— Kal?! ” Sharill said, speaking at the same time as Mim, slightly quieter, but close enough to her ear that it didn’t really matter. “You mean you knew him when he was —”
“— So that’s who your father quartermastered—”
“—Captain Stormblessed … Tarah… you mean The CAPTAIN STORMBLESSED?”
"Oh Stormfather," Mim whimpered. "Tarah. Tarah. Tarah, he is staring right at you ."
Damnation, he was . It was pretty noticeable at this point, head turned almost entirely to the side. People nearby and across the way were also starting to also turn their heads, trying to see what had captured Stormblessed's attention. His honorspren was peeking around his side, staring at her just as quizzically.
"They used to court!" She heard a man behind her hiss. "I heard her — Stormblessed used to be lovers with a woman here, someone in the front!"
"I didn't think he courted anyone !"
He passed by, and his head snapped forward, marching on. Mim and Sharill let out twin sighs of disappointment.
Then he stopped in place, and turned on his heel, full weight of his eyes on her.
The five honorguard stopped behind him, forming a circle, looking all directions. Other windrunners started flying back in.
Twin gasps to either side. Whispers all around.
She couldn't help it. She grinned widely, teeth showing, even though one had been chipped a few years back. She made an awkward half wave, arms still restrained by her friends' increasingly tight grips.
Two yellow shockspren broke on either side of his head, then his face lit up. He grinned, solemn face cracking beautifully around his smile.
Then he started running over to her .
Sharill made a sound like a teakettle. Mim started swearing in Herdazian.
The honorspren, Sylphrena she was fairly sure, turned into a ribbon of light and streaked ahead of him, then appeared in front of Tarah’s nose, the size of a normal windspren.
"It is you!" she said delightedly. "I remember you!"
"Um," Tarah replied, staring slightly cross eyed. "Hello."
Mim stopped cursing with a strangled noise.
He came to an abrupt stop right in front of her, wisps of stormlight escaping his skin. Did he fly? Did she miss him flying?
She couldn't help another smile spreading across her face as he blinked down at her in amazement, mouth open slightly.
"Hi Kal. It's...been a while."
"Tarah! It is you! I — I thought — Storms , I thought I'd never see you again."
Oh Kelek, his voice had gotten deep. There were threads of the familiar in there — he always was surprised at anything good happening.
Various shocked and choked noises were happening around them, but they were surprisingly easy to ignore for the moment.
"It's good to see you again," she said softly. "You — "
She wasn't quite sure what to say. It's been a crazy few years? Why didn't you answer my letters? Did you really stab a god? Are you happy?
"You haven't eaten today, have you?" is what came out. Well. Old habits die hard.
To her slight relief, he laughed at that, throwing his head back. "You always could tell!" he said joyfully.
Tarah grinned wider. It always felt like a huge win getting him to laugh, and it felt especially good after all this time.
He sobered quickly though. "Tarah." His voice dropped, expression growing remorseful. "Tarah, I'm so sorry for the way things—"
"Maybe we should talk about this somewhere else," she said hastily. The people behind her were leaning in so hard she could feel someone's breath on the back of her head. It seemed likely that she'd have storming bruises from Mim and Sharill.
"Of course," he said, ducking his head, noticing the people around him for apparently the first time. He glanced up, wincing slightly, and Tarah stifled a sound of alarm at several very curious Windrunners right overhead.
She leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. He leaned down to hear, practically folding in half. Had he gotten even taller? That seemed ridiculous. "I work at the County Records office,” she said softly. “On Ninth and Ovilar's street. I generally finish work around five, if you can find time to come by while you're in town."
"Right," he nodded. "I’ll be there. It's — damnation it's good to see you, Tarah!" He smiled again, then looked over his shoulder. The procession had continued, though most of the windrunners were standing or hovering in place, and some of the back rows of clerks were clearly looking backwards.
"I should probably get back to —" he said awkwardly, gesturing with a thumb over his shoulder.
"Yes," Tarah agreed, nodding. She didn't want to imagine how ridiculous things would get if he completely left the procession . Already as it was...
He stood there for another moment and she made a little shooing motion. He laughed again, shaking his head, then took a deep breath, started glowing and flew to catch up with the celebration. The windrunners lingered, staring at her with a mix of awe and fascination, then left one by one.
Pretty much everyone in range was looking at her, many pointing. At least one woman across the way was very blatantly sketching while staring at her face, and she very bravely resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands, instead turning around, finally shaking off Sharill and Mim. The people on the steps behind her were also looking, but packed together as they were, only a few could actually see her.
"Taln's balls," the man behind her whispered. "You weren't kidding."
Someone to her left reached for her shoulder, starting to say something, but Sharill slapped their hand firmly. "Did she say you could touch her?" she snapped.
Then she grabbed Tarah's arm, ignoring the irony. "Do you want to leave?" she whispered quietly. "Or do you want to stay?"
A surge of gratitude swelled up.
"Get us out of here. Please. "
Tarah grabbed Mim with her freehand as Sharill imperiously elbowed, ordered, and kicked her way through the crowd. Tarah half expected her to stop and start questioning as soon as they were free of the crush, but she kept them moving.
Two right turns, then a left, then another left. Tarah was starting to struggle to keep up; Sharill's legs were longer, and she was a lot slighter than Tarah, less to carry at a speed walk. She dragged them into a lady's food house, then through the kitchen, then out the back door, ignoring shouts of alarm. She stopped them there, in the alley, holding up a hand to forestall complaints, while Tarah and Mim caught their breaths.
Less than a minute later, a man burst through the same door they had come through, looking at them and opening his mouth to say something.
"Go back!" Sharill snapped, hands on her hips.
"I just —" he started to say, hands clasped before him, pleading.
"Now! And tell the rest to do the same!"
"Please, if you could just tell Stormblessed that —"
"If you don't turn back now, and do everything in your power to stop the rest, the only thing we'll be telling him is what a dishonorable piece of crem you are, following unprotected women into a dark alley."
He blanched, then turned and fled back into the kitchen.
Sharill then led them from the alley back to the main thoroughfare at a more sedate pace. Mim glanced over her shoulders a few times and Sharill hissed at her to be less conspicuous.
They rejoined the parade onlookers at the outskirts, lingering by a wall for a minute or so, watching people pass as they started returning to their lives, walking with the slowly dissolving crowds as if they hadn't been part of the biggest scandal to ever hit Mourn's Vault.
"I should probably get back home," Tarah said weakly. Mim and Sharill gave her twin disbelieving looks.
"Absolutely not," Mim said flatly.
"Not until we get a bit more of an explanation," Shrill agreed.
"There's really not so much to tell," Tarah protested. "It's not as though we've been keeping in touch all —"
"Not here," Sharill said, rolling her eyes. "Come on, you both still have housemates, don't you? My place isn't far."
Tarah followed without further arguments. A part of her had been preparing for this for some time, though a much larger part had never expected it to actually happen.
The walk to Sharill’s home wasn’t long, but it was enough time to get her thoughts in order. Almighty help her, but she did have things she had desperately wanted to share with someone.
Tarah toed off her shoes with some relief as they entered; she had not been prepared to sprint through the city today. Sharill immediately bustled off, and Tarah knew better than to even imply that she was allowed to touch anything in her kitchen by offering to help. She sank with a sigh into Sharill’s Makabeki style low cushioned seat, Mim immediately settling beside her and eagerly turning her way.
“Okay,” Tarah said, holding up a hand. “Before I tell you anything, I need you to swear you won’t share what I say with anyone, unless you have mine and Kaladin’s express permission.”
“Of course!” Mim said, bouncing.
“Swear it,” Tarah insisted.
Mim crossed both arms in front of her. “I swear it by the God of Honor and the Heralds themselves, may they rest in peace.” The grin was a bit at odds with the solemness of the vow, but Tarah would take it.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sharill said, bringing over a bowl of candied nuts and a plate of some thin bread and jams. “I know how to be discreet Tarah, and apparently so do you, considering you never mentioned a hint of this the entire time I knew you.” She went back to the kitchen, then returned with three glasses and a bottle of blue. “Seriously. How have you never mentioned this. I’ve seen you drunk. Wait, tell me you’ve seen Kaladin Stormblessed drunk.”
“That’s not a vow,” Tarah said, crossing her arms.
Sharill collapsed into the cushions, groaning. “Do I really need to?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be careful,” she said. “But this is the biggest thing to hit the Vault since the everstorm. You can’t expect me not to share anything.”
“Just say you were there when Stormblessed stopped the parade,” Mim said, reaching for the bottle. “And you know the woman involved, but she made you vow not to share anything about the relationship between her and Kaladin .” Sharill slapped her hand away, then moved to unstopper the cork herself.
Mim rolled her eyes. “You can even act very superior when you say it.”
Tarah sighed. Yeah, that was probably all she was going to get, considering she hadn’t gotten an oath before the procession. “But you don’t get any teenage Kaladin Stormblessed details if you can’t swear to that.”
Sharill made an intensely frustrated sound, but finally nodded. “Fine. Fine! I vow , on my honor, I won’t tell a soul what you share with me now, without the express permission of you or your ex.” She poured an over large glass for Tarah. “Now spill.”
Tarah took it with a grin. “Alright, then. First of all — seriously. We haven’t been in touch since we were seventeen. I moved to Mourn’s Vault with my father, he stayed with Amaram’s army. I sent him two letters, but he never replied.”
She stared into the distance, a small pang of hurt tugging at her, a larger echo of concern behind it.
“I never knew why,” she whispered. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough, if he actually comes to the office.”
“You invited him to the office ?” Mim shrieked. “He’s coming to our office ?!”
“Taln’s blood,” Sharill said, laughing. “You’re incredible. The boss is going to lose her mind. What a way to get out of work early.”
“Well I couldn’t exactly invite him to where I live ,” Tarah said, exasperated. “That would be wildly inappropriate.”
“He’s definitely coming,” Mim said in a hushed, almost reverent tone. “No way he wouldn’t, after the way he stopped the parade—”
“He didn’t stop —”
“Do you have any guesses?” Sharill said frowning. “If it's something obnoxious and you’re too intimidated to yell at him, then I’ll do it.”
“Please don’t yell at Kaladin Stormblessed,” Mim said, sounding pained.
Tarah hesitated. She didn’t want to talk about her real fear, the thought that had haunted her for years. It wasn’t concern about him moving on, or not caring, though the few early friends in the Vault she had told back then had been dismissively sure that was the case. It was his black moods, the sorrow that gripped him, made him close out the world when he desperately needed to let in light…
“I have guesses, but definitely nothing you should yell at him for, Sharill, thank you,” she said quietly, staring at her glass. “At the time I wondered if he died. He was an incredible soldier, even then, but anyone can fall. Once his name and story started spreading… well. I don’t know exactly when he was betrayed and enslaved, so it could have been…”
“Storms.”
Tarah shook her head. “I’ll find out soon enough, I suppose. Anyway. We courted for about a year. Things ended amicably, but we fell out of touch… so any gossip I have is a decade old.”
“Perfect.” Sharill said. “Seventeen year old Kaladin Stormblessed. Don’t make us beg.”
“Well…” Mim and Sharill leaned in, and Tarah smiled, perhaps a bit mischeviously. “The army was still using more old-fashioned uniforms. You know those, uh, those little leather skirts that infantrymen used to wear?”
Mim beat her heels against the floor, making a high pitched noise. Sharill stuffed a handful of bread in her mouth to hide any noises she might be making, eyes gleaming.
Tarah smile grew wider. “Well, they only ever came in one size, and he was always absurdly tall…”
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Art by the incredible pekgna as part of the Cosmere Mini Bang:
