Words of Radiance

She didn’t think Mraize wanted her dead, despite the sickening incident with the poor carriage driver. He’d given leave for the others around him to kill her, if they feared her, but that—like so much about Mraize—had been a test. If you really are strong and clever enough to join us, that incident implied, then you’ll avoid being assassinated by these people.

This was another test. How did she pass it in a way that didn’t leave anyone dead this time?

They’d be watching for her to come get her instructions, but there weren’t many good places to keep an eye on the tree. If she were Mraize and his people, where would she go to observe?

She felt silly thinking it. “Pattern,” she whispered, “go look in the windows of this building that face the street. See if anyone is sitting in one of them, watching as we are.”

“Very well,” he said, sliding out of her illusion.

She was suddenly conscious of the fact that Mraize’s people might be hiding somewhere very close, but shoved aside her nervousness, reading Adolin’s reply.

Good news, by the way, the pen wrote. Father visited last night, and we talked at length. He’s preparing his expedition out onto the Plains to fight the Parshendi, once and for all. Part of getting ready involves some scouting missions in the coming days. I got him to agree to bring you out onto the plateaus during one of them.

And we can find a chrysalis? Shallan asked.

Well, the pen wrote, even if the Parshendi aren’t fighting over those anymore, Father doesn’t take risks. I can’t bring you on a run when there is a chance they might come and contest us. But, I’ve been thinking we can probably arrange the scouting mission so it passes by a plateau with a chrysalis a day or so after it was harvested.

Shallan frowned. A dead, harvested chrysalis? she wrote. I don’t know how much that will tell me.

Well, Adolin replied, it’s better than not seeing one at all, right? And you did say you wanted the chance to cut one up. This is almost the same thing.

He was right. Besides, getting out onto the Plains was the real goal. Let’s do it. When?

In a few days.

“Shallan!”

She jumped, but it was only Pattern, buzzing with excitement. “You were right,” he said. “Mmmm. She watches below. Only one level down, second room.”

“She?”

“Mmm. The one with the mask.”

Shallan shivered. Now what? Go back to her rooms, then write to Mraize and say that she didn’t appreciate being spied upon?

It wouldn’t accomplish anything useful. Looking down at her pad of paper, she realized that her relationship with Mraize was similar to her relationship with Adolin. In both cases, she couldn’t just do as expected. She needed to excite, exceed.

I’ll need to go, she wrote to Adolin. Sebarial is asking for me. It might take me a while.

She clicked off the spanreed and tucked it and the board away in her satchel. Not her usual one, but a rugged bag with a leather strap that went over her shoulder, like Veil would carry. Then, before she could lose her nerve, she ducked out of her illusory hiding place. She put her back to the wall of the shed, facing away from the street, then touched the side of the illusion and withdrew the Stormlight.

That made the illusory section of wall vanish, quickly breaking down and streaming into her hand. Hopefully, nobody had been looking at the shed at that moment. If they had been, though, they would probably just think the change a trick of the eyes.

Next, she knelt and used Stormlight to infuse Pattern and bind to him an image of Veil from a drawing she’d done earlier. Shallan nodded for him to move, and as he did, the image of Veil walked.

She looked good. A confident stride, a swishing coat, peaked hat shading her face against the sun. The illusion even blinked and turned her head on occasion, as prescribed by the drawing sequence Shallan had done earlier.