Words of Radiance

She watched, hesitating. Was that actually how she looked while wearing Veil’s face and clothing? She didn’t feel nearly that poised, and the clothing always seemed exaggerated, even silly, to her. On this image, it looked appropriate.

“Go down,” Shallan whispered to Pattern, “and walk to the tree. Try to approach carefully, slowly, and buzz loudly to get the tree’s leaves to pull back. Stand at the trunk for a moment, as if retrieving the thing inside, then walk to the alleyway between this building and the next.”

“Yes!” Pattern said. He zipped off toward the stairs, excited to be part of the lie.

“Slower!” Shallan said, wincing to see Veil’s pace not matching her speed. “As we practiced!”

Pattern slowed and reached the steps. Veil’s image moved down them. Awkwardly. The illusion could walk and stand still on flat ground, but other terrain—such as steps—wasn’t accommodated. To anyone watching, it would seem like Veil was stepping on nothing and gliding down the stairs.

Well, it was the best they could do for the moment. Shallan took a deep breath and pulled on her hat, breathing out a second image, one that covered her over and transformed her into Veil. The one on Pattern would remain so long as he had Stormlight. That Stormlight drained from him a lot faster than it did from Shallan, though. She didn’t know why.

She went down the steps, but only one level, walking as quietly as she could. She counted over two doors in the dim hallway. The masked woman was inside that one. Shallan left it alone, instead ducking into an alcove by the stairwell, where she would be hidden from anyone in the hallway.

She waited.

A door eventually clicked open, and clothing rustled in the hallway. The masked woman passed Shallan’s hiding place, amazingly quiet as she moved down the steps.

“What is your name?” Shallan asked.

The woman froze on the steps. She spun—gloved safehand on the knife at her side—and saw Shallan standing in the alcove. The woman’s masked eyes flicked back toward the room she’d left.

“I sent a double,” Shallan said, “wearing my clothing. That’s what you saw.”

The woman did not move, still crouched on the steps.

“Why did he want you to follow me?” Shallan asked. “He’s that interested in finding out where I’m staying?”

“No,” the woman finally said. “The instructions in the tree call for you to set about a task immediately, with no time to waste.”

Shallan frowned, considering. “So your job wasn’t to follow me home, but to follow me on the mission. To watch how I accomplished it?”

The woman said nothing.

Shallan strolled forward and seated herself on the top step, crossing her arms on her legs. “So what is the job?”

“The instructions are in—”

“I’d rather hear it from you,” Shallan said. “Call me lazy.”

“How did you find me?” the woman asked.

“A sharp-eyed ally,” Shallan said. “I told him to watch the windows, then send me word of where you were. I was waiting up above.” She grimaced. “I was hoping to catch one of you placing the instructions.”

“We placed them before even contacting you,” the woman said. She hesitated, then took a few steps upward. “Iyatil.”

Shallan cocked her head.

“My name,” the woman said. “Iyatil.”

“I’ve never heard one like it.”

“Unsurprising. Your task today was to investigate a certain new arrival into Dalinar’s camp. We wish to know about this person, and Dalinar’s allegiances are uncertain.”

“He’s loyal to the king and the Throne.”

“Outwardly,” the woman said. “His brother knew things of an extraordinary nature. We are uncertain if Dalinar was told of these things or not, and his interactions with Amaram worry us. This newcomer is linked.”

“Amaram is making maps of the Shattered Plains,” Shallan said. “Why? What is out there that he wants?” And why would he want to return the Voidbringers?

Iyatil didn’t answer.

“Well,” Shallan said, rising, “let’s get to it, then. Shall we?”

“Together?” Iyatil said.

Shallan shrugged. “You can sneak along behind, or you can just go with me.” She extended her hand.

Iyatil inspected the hand, then clasped it with her own gloved freehand in acceptance. She kept her other hand on the dagger at her side the entire time, though.

* * *

Shallan flipped through the instructions Mraize had left, as the oversized palanquin lurched along toward Dalinar’s warcamp. Iyatil sat across from Shallan, legs tucked beneath her, watching with beady, masked eyes. The woman wore simple trousers and a shirt, such that Shallan had originally mistaken her for a boy that first time.

Her presence was thoroughly unsettling.

“A madman,” Shallan said, flipping to the next page of instructions. “Mraize is this interested in a simple madman?”

“Dalinar and the king are interested,” Iyatil said. “So, then, are we.”