“Rhaenys was a child too. Prince Rhaegar’s daughter. A precious little thing, younger than your girls. She had a small black kitten she called Balerion. […] Ser Amory was almost as bestial with Rhaenys. I asked him afterward why it had required half a hundred thrusts to kill a girl of… two? Three? He said she’d kicked him and would not stop screaming. If Lorch had half the wits the gods gave a turnip, he would have calmed her with a few sweet words and used a soft silk pillow. […] “Rhaenys was a little girl, Aegon a babe in arms. When Tywin Lannister took King’s Landing, his men killed both of them. He served the bloody bodies up in crimson cloaks, a gift for the new king. And what did Robert say when he saw them? Did he smile?”
– Now this one is about a man out late on a fairy hill on the eve of Samhain. who hears the sound of a woman singing sad and plaintive from the very rocks of the hill. “I am a woman of Balnain. The folk have stolen me over again,” the stones seemed to say. “I stood upon the hill and wind did rise, and the sound of thunder rolled across the land. I placed my hands upon the tallest stone and traveled to a far, distant land where I lived for a time among strangers who became lovers and friends. But one day, I saw the moon came out and the wind rose once more. So I touched the stones and traveled back to my own land and took up again with the man I had left behind.” –She came back through the stones? –
Aye, she did. They always do.
My sister made her way across the room to you, and I got nervous thinking, “What’s she gonna do?” She grabbed you by the arm, I’m thinking, “I’m through.” Then you look back at me and suddenly I’m helpless.
“His name, Brightlord?” asked Ishal, an aged ardent from the Devotary of Purity. “I would burn the proper glyphwards, if it pleases you.” “Name …” Dalinar said. “Adoda.” Light. He glanced toward Evi, who nodded in agreement. “Without a suffix, my lord? Adodan? Adodal?” “Lin,” Dalinar whispered. Born unto. “Adolin.” A good name, traditional, full of meaning.