The listeners had made a decision centuries ago, a decision that set them back to primitive levels. Choosing to murder Gavilar Kholin had been an act to affirm that decision of their ancestors. Eshonai had not then been one of their leaders, but they had listened to her counsel and given her the right to vote among them.

The choice, horrible though it seemed, had been one of courage. They’d hoped that a long war would bore the Alethi.

Eshonai and the others had underestimated Alethi greed. The gemhearts had changed everything.

In the center of town, near the pool, was a tall tower that remained proudly erect in defiance of centuries’ worth of storms. Once, there had been steps within, but crem leaking in windows had filled the building up with rock. So workers had carved steps running around its outside.

Eshonai started up the steps, holding to the chain for safety. It was a long but familiar climb. Though her leg ached, warform had great endurance—though it required more food than any other form to keep it strong. She made it to the top with ease.

She found the other members of the Five waiting for her, one member wearing each known form. Eshonai for warform, Davim for workform, Abronai for mateform, Chivi for nimbleform, and the quiet Zuln for dullform. Venli waited as well, with her once-mate, though he was flushed from the difficult climb. Nimbleform, though good for many delicate activities, did not have great endurance.

Eshonai stepped up onto the flat top of the once-tower, wind blowing against her from the east. There were no chairs up here, and the Five sat on the bare rock itself.

Davim hummed to Annoyance. With the rhythms in one’s head, it was difficult to be late by accident. They rightly suspected that Eshonai had dallied.

She sat on the rock and took the spren-filled gemstone from her pocket, setting it on the ground in front of her. The violet stone glowed with Stormlight.

“I am worried about this test,” Eshonai said. “I do not think we should allow it to proceed.”

“What?” Venli said to Anxiety. “Sister, don’t be ridiculous. Our people need this.”

Davim leaned forward, arms on his knees. He was broad faced, his workform skin marbled mostly of black with tiny swirls of red here and there. “If this works, it will be an amazing advance. The first of the forms of ancient power, rediscovered.”

“Those forms are tied to the gods,” Eshonai said. “What if, in choosing this form, we invite them to return?”

Venli hummed Irritation. “In the old day, all forms came from the gods. We have found that nimbleform does not harm us. Why would stormform?”

“It is different,” Eshonai said. “Sing the song; hum it to yourself. ‘Its coming brings the gods their night.’ The ancient powers are dangerous.”

“Men have them,” Abronai said. He wore mateform, lush and plump, though he controlled its passions. Eshonai had never envied him the position; she knew, from private conversations, that he would have preferred to have another form. Unfortunately, others who held mateform either did so transiently—or did not possess the proper solemnity to join the Five.

“You yourself brought us the report, Eshonai,” Abronai continued. “You saw a warrior among the Alethi using ancient powers, and many others confirmed it to us. Surgebindings have returned to men. The spren again betray us.”

“If Surgebindings are back,” Davim said to Consideration, “then it might indicate that the gods are returning anyway. If so, we’d best be prepared to deal with them. Forms of power will help with that.”

“We don’t know they will come,” Eshonai said to Resolve. “We don’t know any of this. Who knows if men even have Surgebindings—it might be one of the Honorblades. We left one in Alethkar that night.”

Chivi hummed to Skepticism. Her nimbleform face had elongated features, her hairstrands tied back in a long tail. “We are fading as a people. I passed some today who had taken dullform, and not to remember our past. They did so because they worried that men would kill them otherwise! They prepare themselves to become slaves!”

“I saw them too,” Davim said to Resolve. “We must do something, Eshonai. Your soldiers are losing this war, beat by beat.”

“The next storm,” Venli said. She used the Rhythm of Pleading. “I can test this at the next storm.”

Eshonai closed her eyes. Pleading. It was a rhythm not often attuned. It was hard to deny her sister in this.

“We must be unified in this decision,” Davim said. “I will accept nothing else. Eshonai, do you insist on objecting? Will we need to spend hours here making this decision?”

She took a deep breath, coming to a decision that had been working its way through the back of her mind. The decision of an explorer. She glanced at the sack of maps she’d set on the floor beside her.

“I will agree to this test,” Eshonai said.

Nearby, Venli hummed to Appreciation.

“However,” Eshonai continued to Resolve, “I must be the one who tries the new form first.”

All humming stopped. The others of the Five gaped at her.

“What?” Venli said. “Sister, no! It is my right.”

“You are too valuable,” Eshonai said. “You know too much about the forms, and much of your research is held only in your head. I am simply a soldier. I can be spared if this goes wrong.”

“You are a Shardbearer,” Davim said. “Our last.”

“Thude has trained with my Blade and Plate,” Eshonai said. “I will leave both with him, just in case.”

The others of the Five hummed to Consideration.

“This is a good suggestion,” Abronai said. “Eshonai has both strength and experience.”

“It was my discovery!” Venli said to Irritation.

“And you are appreciated for it,” Davim said. “But Eshonai is right; you and your scholars are too important to our future.”

“More than that,” Abronai added. “You are too close to the project, Venli. The way you speak makes that clear. If Eshonai enters the storms and discovers that something is off about this form, she can halt the experiment and return to us.”

“This is a good compromise,” Chivi said, nodding. “Are we in agreement?”

“I believe so,” Abronai said, turning toward Zuln.

The representative of the dullforms rarely spoke. She wore the smock of a parshman, and had indicated that she considered it her duty to represent them—those with no songs—along with any dullforms among them.

Hers was as noble a sacrifice as Abronai holding to mateform. More so. Dullform was a difficult form to suffer, one that only a few ever experienced for longer than a stormpause or so.

“I agree to this,” Zuln said.

The others hummed to Appreciation. Only Venli did not join in the song. If this stormform turned out to be real, would they add another person to the Five? At first, the Five had all been dullforms, then all workers. It was only at the discovery of nimbleform that it had been decided that they would have one of each form.

A question for later. The others of the Five stood up, then began to make their way down the long flight of steps spiraling around the tower. Wind blew from the east, and Eshonai turned toward it, looking out over the broken Plains—toward the Origin of Storms.