Infinity Blade: Redemption by Brandon Sanderson Page A

Deathless.”
    “Yeah,” she said, speaking softly.
    “If we’re going to grow this rebellion,” Siris said, “you and I will be doing a lot of the work. I’ll need you to infiltrate, gather information, pry secrets from Deathless hands.”
    “Good,” she said. “That’s a whole lot more appealing than acting as a nursemaid to this lot. They come to me asking about everything . Hell take me . . . if I have to listen to one more man whine about his bunkmate snoring, I’m seriously going to start stabbing something.”
    She settled down at the table to his right, crossing her arms on top of the stack of maps.
    “You really think we can do this?” he asked. “Lead a rebellion? Change the world?”
    “No,” she said. “But I think you can.”
    He settled back. “You’re not starting to believe your own stories, are you? Me slaying dragons, rescuing thousands of people, murdering Deathless while swinging on ropes from palace to palace . . .”
    She smiled. “No. But I’ve seen you with them, Siris. You are a leader. A real leader.”
    The Dark Self stirred, and Siris felt satisfaction from it. It knew. It knew he needed it.
    No. He knew. He had to stop thinking of it as a different thing from himself. The Dark Self was him, not some alien thing. For all he wanted to play with children and eat pies, that wouldn’t save his people. Getting to this facility on the paper in front of him . . . that would give him a chance.
    “I guess the greater truth is,” Isa said, “it’s not important if we win or not.”
    He looked up at her.
    “Something has to change, Siris,” she said. “The world, the people in it . . . Well, sitting around with my nose in a mug, not looking at anything happening around me—that’s not working for me anymore. So we’re going to fight instead. You’re going to lead, and I’m going to . . . well, do whatever the hell it is I do.”
    Siris nodded, meeting her eyes. “You’ve changed.”
    “It’s been over two years.” She looked back at him, defiant at first, but then relaxing. He found himself remembering the days—short though they had been—that he’d spent with her. Days he had sincerely enjoyed.
    Her hands rested a few inches from his own. She moved one closer to his.
    “I’ve changed too,” he warned. “Those years in the prison, they were . . . difficult.”
    “I can believe it. I wasn’t expecting things to just pick up where they left off. Hell, you’re still Deathless, and . . . Well, what I did wasn’t about us. Not entirely, at least. It was as much about those people down below.”
    “Thank you,” Siris said, resting his hand on hers. “Thank you for coming for me. You don’t know what being trapped in there was doing to me, Isa. I don’t care about your reasons. Just . . . thank you.”
    She nodded.
    “There’s a problem, though. I’m not good at leadership.”
    “Sure you are. They—”
    “ I’m not, Isa. I grew up isolated, treated as a doomed Sacrifice, forced to practice swordsmanship instead of spending time with others my age. I know nothing about leadership.”
    She frowned.
    “Everything I know about being a leader,” he said, “comes from somewhere else. Other instincts. Not me—or at least, not the me I want to encourage. If I’m to lead here, I’m going to be relying upon the methods of our enemies.”
    “We can’t fight a war with brave songs and good intentions, Siris. You’re our weapon. They forged you, yes, but we can use that.” She hesitated. “And I trust you.”
    Hell take me . . . He met her eyes again. Then, making a decision, he slipped a paper off the stack—the map with the facility he’d been looking at earlier.
    “Then we’re going to strike here,” he said. “How soon can the men be ready?”
    “Immediately.”

CHAPTER
TWELVE
    LESS THAN a week later, Siris crept along the shelf of rock, following Isa and two members of her strike team. He tried not to look over the