“Yelling a battle cry—more to motivate himself than frighten his foes—Lukel grabbed the table leg and swung it at a soldier. The wood bounced off the man's helmet, but the blow was powerful enough to daze him, so Lukel followed it with a solid blow to the face. The soldier dropped and Lukel grabbed his weapon.Now he had a sword. He only wished he knew how to use it.”

“You're getting better, my lady.""Don't patronize me.""No, really, Your Highness. When you started painting five years ago, I could never tell what it was you were trying to depict.""And this is a painting of . ."Ashe paused. "A bowl of fruit?" he asked hopefully.Sarene sighed in frustration._______________________________"Beautifully—which is more than I can say for the painting." He paused for a moment. "It's a horse, right?"Sarene scowled."A house?" he asked."It is not a bowl of fruit either, my lord," Ashe said. "I already tried that." "Well, she said it was one of the paintings in this room," Lukel said. "All we have to do is keep guessing until we find the right one.""Brilliant deduction, Master Lukel." Ashe said.”

“Have you ever tried to bribe a Korathi priest, Lukel?" Shuden asked pointedly.Lukel looked around uncomfortably. "I'd rather not answer that question, thank you.”

“The door slammed open. Vivenna jumped, putting a hand to her chest.Vasher walked in. 'Start reaching for that sword when you're startled,' he said. 'There's little reason to grab your shirt, unless you're planning to rip it off.”

“The man had come looking for a magical solution to his woes, but he had found an answer much more simple. Pain lost its power when other things became more important. Kahar didn't need a potion or an Aon to save him—he just needed something to do.”

“Kaladin screamed, reaching the end of the bridge. Finding a tiny surge of strength somewhere, he raised his spear and threw himself off the end of the wooden platform, launching into the air above the cavernous void. Bridgemen cried out in dismay. Syl zipped about him with worry. Parshendi looked up with amazement as a lone bridgeman sailed through the air toward them. His drained, worn-out body barely had any strength left. In that moment of crystallized time, he looked down on his enemies. Parshendi with their marbled red and black skin. Soldiers raising finely crafted weapons, as if to cut him from the sky. Strangers, oddities in carapace breastplates and skullcaps. Many of them wearing beards. Beards woven with glowing gemstones. Kaladin breathed in. Like the power of salvation itself—like rays of sunlight from the eyes of the Almighty—Stormlight exploded from those gemstones. It streamed through the air, pulled in visible streams, like glowing columns of luminescent smoke. Twisting and turning and spiraling like tiny funnel clouds until they slammed into him. And the storm came to life again.”

“Sarene finally released him, wiping her eyes, disappointed in herself for crying again. Kiin simply placed a large hand on her shoulder and led her into the dining room, where the rest of the family sat around the table, even Adien.Lukel had been talking animatedly, but he cut off as he saw Sarene. "Speak the name of the lion," he said, quoting a Jindoeese proverb, "and he will come to feast.”