Words of Radiance

Where was Teft, anyway? He’d gone on the patrol with them, and now he’d vanished. Kaladin glanced over his shoulder but didn’t see him; perhaps he’d gone to check on some of the other bridge crews. He did catch Rock shooing away a lanky man in an ardent’s robe.

“What was that?” Kaladin asked, catching the Horneater as he passed.

“That one,” Rock said. “Keeps loitering here with sketchbook. Wants to draw bridgemen. Ha! Because we are famous, you see.”

Kaladin frowned. Strange actions for an ardent—but, then, all ardents were strange, to an extent. He let Rock return to his stew and stepped away from the fire, enjoying the peace.

Everything was so quiet out there, in the camp. Like it was holding its breath.

“The patrol seems to have worked out,” Sigzil said, strolling up to Kaladin. “Those men are changed.”

“Funny what a couple of days spent marching as a unit can do to soldiers,” Kaladin said. “Have you seen Teft?”

“No, sir,” Sigzil said. He nodded toward the fire. “You’ll want to get some stew. We won’t have much time for chatting tonight.”

“Highstorm,” Kaladin realized. It seemed like too soon since the last one, but they weren’t always regular—not in the way he thought of it. The stormwardens had to do complex mathematics to predict them; Kaladin’s father had made a hobby of it.

Perhaps that was what he was noticing. Was he suddenly predicting highstorms because the night seemed too… something?

You’re imagining things, Kaladin thought. Shrugging off his fatigue from the extended ride and march, he went over to get some stew. He’d have to eat quickly—he’d want to go join the men guarding Dalinar and the king during the storm.

The men from the patrol cheered him as he filled his bowl.

* * *

Shallan sat on the rattling wagon and moved her hand over the sphere on the seat beside her, palming it and dropping another.

Tyn raised an eyebrow. “I heard the replacement hit.”

“Drynets!” Shallan said. “I thought I had it.”

“Drynets?”

“It’s a curse,” Shallan said, blushing. “I heard it from the sailors.”

“Shallan, do you have any idea at all what that means?”

“Like… for fishing?” Shallan said. “The nets are dry, maybe? They haven’t been catching any fish, so it’s bad?”

Tyn grinned. “Dear, I’m going to do my very best to corrupt you. Until then, I think you should avoid using sailor curses. Please.”

“All right.” Shallan passed her hand over the sphere again, swapping the spheres. “No clink! Did you hear that? Or, um, did you not hear that? It didn’t make a noise!”

“Nice,” Tyn said, getting out a pinch of some kind of mossy substance. She began rubbing it between her fingers, and Shallan thought she saw smoke rising from the moss. “You are getting better. I also feel like we should figure out some way to use that drawing talent of yours.”

Shallan already had an inkling of how it would come in handy. More of the former deserters had asked her for pictures.

“You’ve been working on your accents?” Tyn asked, eyes glazing as she rubbed the moss.

“I have indeed, my good woman,” Shallan said with a Thaylen accent.

“Good. We’ll get around to costuming once we have more resources. I, for one, am going to be very amused to watch your face when you have to go out in public with that hand of yours uncovered.”

Shallan immediately pulled her safehand up to her breast. “What!”

“I warned you about difficult things,” Tyn said, smiling in a devious way. “West of Marat, almost all women go out with both hands uncovered. If you’re going to go to those places and not stand out, you’ll have to be able to do as they do.”

“It’s immodest!” Shallan said, blushing furiously.

“It’s just a hand, Shallan,” Tyn said. “Storms, you Vorins are so prim. That hand looks exactly like your other hand.”

“A lot of women have breasts that aren’t much more pronounced than male ones,” Shallan snapped. “That doesn’t make it right for them to go out wearing no shirt, like a man would!”

“Actually, in parts of the Reshi Isles and Iri, it’s not uncommon for women to walk about topless. It gets hot up there. Nobody minds. I rather like it, myself.”

Shallan raised both hands to her face—one clothed, one not—hiding her blush. “You’re doing this just to provoke me.”

“Yeah,” Tyn said, chuckling. “I am. This is the girl that scammed an entire troop of deserters and took over our caravan?”

“I didn’t have to go naked to do that.”

“Good thing you didn’t,” Tyn said. “You still think you’re experienced and worldly? You blush at the mere mention of exposing your safehand. Can’t you see how it’s going to be hard for you to run any kind of productive scam?”

Shallan took a deep breath. “I guess.”

“Showing your hand off isn’t going to be the toughest thing you need to do,” Tyn said, looking distant. “Not the toughest by a breeze or a stormwind. I…”

“What?” Shallan asked.

Tyn shook her head. “We’ll talk about it later. Can you see those warcamps yet?”