Words of Radiance

She didn’t know the species. It was too old to have been planted there recently; it must predate Sebarial’s arrival. The gnarled, sturdy bark made her think it was some variety of dendrolith, but the tree also had long fronds that rose into the air like streamers, twisting and fluttering in the wind. Those were reminiscent of a dalewillow. She’d already done a sketch; she would look it up in her books later.

The tree was used to people, and didn’t pull in its fronds as they passed it. If someone had approached carefully enough to avoid brushing the fronds, Shallan would have spotted them. If, instead, they’d moved quickly, the fronds would have felt the vibrations and withdrawn—which she also would have spotted. She was reasonably certain that if anyone had tried to fetch the item in the tree, she’d have known it, even if she’d been looking away for a moment.

I suppose, the pen wrote, I can continue to keep you company. Shoren isn’t doing anything else.

Shoren was the ardent who wrote for Adolin today, come to visit by Adolin’s order. The prince had pointedly noted that he was using an ardent, rather than one of his father’s scribes. Did he think she’d grow jealous if he used another woman for scribing duties?

He did seem surprised that she didn’t get jealous. Were the women of the court so petty? Or was Shallan the odd one, too relaxed? His eyes did wander, and she had to admit that wasn’t something that pleased her. And there was his reputation to consider. Adolin was said to have, in the past, changed relationships as frequently as other men changed coats.

Perhaps she should cling more firmly, but the thought of it nauseated her. Such behavior reminded her of Father, holding so tightly to everything that he eventually broke it all.

Yes, she wrote back to Adolin, using the board set on a box beside her, I’m certain the good ardent has nothing at all better to do than transcribe notes between two courting lighteyes.

He’s an ardent, Adolin sent. He likes to serve. It’s what they do.

I thought, she wrote, that saving souls was what they did.

He’s tired of that, Adolin sent. He told me that he already saved three this morning.

She smiled, checking on the tree—still no change. He did, did he? she wrote.

Has them tucked away in his back pocket for safekeeping, I assume?

No, Father’s way was not right. If she wanted to keep Adolin, she had to try something far more difficult than just clinging to him. She’d have to be so irresistible that he didn’t want to let go. Unfortunately, this was one area where neither Jasnah’s training nor Tyn’s would help. Jasnah had been indifferent toward men, while Tyn had not talked about keeping men, only distracting them for a quick con.

Is your father feeling better? she wrote.

Yes, actually. He’s been up and about since yesterday, looking as strong as ever.

Good to hear, she wrote. The two continued exchanging idle comments, Shallan watching the tree. Mraize’s note had instructed her to come at sunrise and search the hole in the tree trunk for her instructions. So she’d come four hours early, while the sky was still dark, and sneaked up to the top of this building to watch.

Apparently, she hadn’t come early enough. She’d really wanted to get a view of them placing the instructions. “I don’t like this,” Shallan said, whispering to Pattern and ignoring the pen, which scribed Adolin’s next line to her. “Why didn’t Mraize just give me the instructions via spanreed? Why make me come here?”

“Mmm…” Pattern said from the floor beneath her.

The sun had long since risen. She needed to go get the instructions, but still she hesitated, tapping her finger against the paper-covered board beside her.

“They’re watching,” she realized.

“What?” Pattern said.

“They are doing exactly what I did. They are hiding somewhere, and want to watch me pick up the instructions.”

“Why? What does it accomplish?”

“It gives them information,” Shallan said. “And that is the sort of thing these people thrive upon.” She leaned to the side, peering out of her hole, which would appear from the outside as a gap between two of the bricks.