Words of Radiance

“I guess I did at that.” He grinned. “This is not exactly going the way it’s supposed to, is it?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” Adolin said, then his grin widened. “Actually, it’s kind of refreshing. Do you know how many times I’ve told that story about saving the plateau run?”

“I’m sure you were quite brave.”

“Quite.”

“Though probably not as brave as the poor men who have to clean your armor.”

Adolin bellowed out a laugh. For the first time it seemed like something genuine—an emotion from him that wasn’t scripted or expected. He pounded his fist on the table, then waved for more wine, wiping a tear from his eye. The grin he gave her threatened to bring out another blush.

Wait, Shallan thought, did that just… work? She was supposed to be acting feminine and delicate, not asking men what it’s like to have to defecate in battle.

“All right,” Adolin said, taking the cup of wine. He didn’t even glance at the serving woman this time. “What other dirty secrets do you want to know? You’ve got me laid bare. There are tons of things the stories and official histories don’t mention.”

“The chrysalises,” Shallan said, eager. “What do they look like?”

“That’s what you want to know?” Adolin said, scratching his head. “I thought for sure you’d want to know about the chafing…”

Shallan got out her satchel, setting a piece of paper on the table and starting a sketch. “From what I’ve been able to determine, nobody has done a solid study on the Chasmfiends. There are some sketches of dead ones, but that’s it, and the anatomy on those is dreadful.

“They must have an interesting life cycle. They haunt these chasms, but I doubt they actually live here. There’s not enough food to support creatures of their size. That means they come here as part of some migratory pattern. They come here to pupate. Have you ever seen a juvenile? Before they form the chrysalis?”

“No,” Adolin said, scooting his chair around the table. “It often happens at night, and we don’t spot them until morning. They’re hard to see out there, colored like rock. Makes me think that the Parshendi must be watching us. We end up fighting over plateaus so often. It might mean they spot us mobilizing, then use the direction we’re going to judge where to find the chrysalis. We get a head start, but they move faster over the Plains, so we arrive near the same time…”

He trailed off, cocking his head to get a better look at her sketch. “Storms! That’s really good, Shallan.”

“Thanks.”

“No, I mean really good.”

She’d done a quick sketch of several types of chrysalises she had read about in her books, along with quick depictions of a man beside them for size reference. It wasn’t very good—she’d done it for speed. Yet Adolin seemed genuinely impressed.

“The shape and texture of the chrysalis,” Shallan said, “could help place the chasmfiends in a family of similar animals.”

“It looks most like this one,” Adolin said, scooting closer and pointing at one of the sketches. “When I’ve touched one, they’ve been hard as rock. It’s hard to dig into one without a Shardblade. It can take men with hammers forever to break into one.”

“Hmmm,” Shallan said, making a note. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. That’s how they look. Why?”

“That’s the chrysalis of a yu-nerig,” Shallan said. “A greatshell from the seas around Marabethia. The people there feed criminals to them, I’m told.”

“Ouch.”

“This might be a false positive, a coincidence. The yu-nerig are an aquatic species. The only time they come onto land is to pupate. Seems tenuous to assume a relationship to the chasmfiends…”

“Sure,” Adolin said, taking a drink of wine. “If you say so.”

“This is probably important,” Shallan said.

“For research. Yeah, I know. Aunt Navani is always talking about things like that.”

“This could be of more practical import than that,” Shallan said. “About how many of these things total are killed by your armies and the Parshendi each month?”

Adolin shrugged. “One every three days or so, I’d guess. Sometimes more, sometimes less. So… fifteen or so a month?”

“You see the problem?”

“I…” Adolin shook his head. “No. Sorry. I’m kind of useless at anything that doesn’t involve someone getting stabbed.”

She smiled at him. “Nonsense. You proved skilled at choosing wine.”

“I did that basically at random.”

“And it tastes delicious,” Shallan said. “Empirical proof of your methodology. Now, you probably don’t see the problem because you don’t have the proper facts. Greatshells, generally, are slow to breed and slow to grow. This is because most ecosystems can only support a small population of apex predators of this size.”

“I’ve heard some of those words before.”

She looked to him, raising an eyebrow. He’d gotten a lot closer to her, in order to look at her drawing. He wore a faint cologne, a brisk woody scent. Oh my…