Words of Radiance

“This map,” Dalinar said, crossing the room and holding up the crinkled map detailing her path back through the chasms. “Navani’s scholars say this is as accurate as any map we have. You can truly expand this? Deliver a map of the entire Shattered Plains?”

“Yes.” Particularly if she used what she remembered of Amaram’s map to fill in some details. “But Brightlord, might I make a suggestion?”

“Speak.”

“Leave your parshmen behind in the warcamp,” she said.

He frowned.

“I cannot accurately explain why,” Shallan said, “but Jasnah felt that they were dangerous. Particularly to bring out onto the Plains. If you wish my help, if you trust me to create this map for you, then trust me on this one single point. Leave the parshmen. Conduct this expedition without them.”

Dalinar looked to Navani, who shrugged. “Once our things are packed, they won’t be needed really. The only ones inconvenienced will be the officers, who will have to set up their own tents.”

Dalinar considered, chewing on her request. “This comes from Jasnah’s notes?” Dalinar asked.

Shallan nodded. To the side, blessedly, Adolin piped in. “She’s told me some of it, Father. You should listen to her.”

Shallan shot him a grateful smile.

“Then it shall be done,” Dalinar said. “Gather your things and send word to your uncle Sebarial, Brightness. We’re leaving within the hour. Without parshmen.”

THE END OF

Part Four

Interludes

I-12. Lhan

“Congratulations,” Brother Lhan said. “You have found your way to the easiest job in the world.”

The young ardent pursed her lips, looking him up and down. She had obviously not expected her new mentor to be rotund, slightly drunk, and yawning.

“You are the… senior ardent I’ve been assigned to?”

“‘To whom I’ve been assigned,’” Brother Lhan corrected, putting an arm around the young woman’s shoulders. “You’re going to have to learn how to speak punctiliously. Queen Aesudan likes to feel that those around her are refined. It makes her feel refined by association. My job is to mentor you on these items.”

“I have been an ardent here in Kholinar for over a year,” the woman said. “I hardly think that I need mentoring at all—”

“Yes, yes,” Brother Lhan said, guiding her out of the monastery’s entryway. “It’s just that, you see, your superiors say you might need a little extra direction. Being assigned to the queen’s own retinue is a marvelous privilege! One, I understand, you have requested with some measure of… ah… persistence.”

She walked with him, and each step revealed her reluctance. Or perhaps confusion. They passed into the Circle of Memories, a round room with ten lamps on the walls, one for each of the ancient Epoch Kingdoms. An eleventh lamp represented the Tranquiline Halls, and a large ceremonial keyhole set into the wall represented the need for ardents to ignore borders, and look only at the hearts of men… or something like that. He wasn’t sure, honestly.

Outside the Circle of Memories, they entered one of the covered walkways between monastery buildings, a light rain sprinkling the rooftops. The last leg of the walkways, the sunwalk, gave a wonderful view of Kholinar—at least on a clear day. Even today, Lhan could see much of the city, as both the temple and the high palace occupied a flat-topped hill.

Some said that the Almighty himself had drawn Kholinar in rock, scooping out sections of ground with a fluent finger. Lhan wondered how drunk he’d been at the time. Oh, the city was beautiful, but it was the beauty of an artist who wasn’t quite right in the mind. The rock took the shape of rolling hills and steeply sloping valleys, and when the stone was cut into, it exposed thousands of brilliant strata of red, white, yellow, and orange.

The most majestic formations were the windblades—enormous, curving spines of rock that cut through the city. Beautifully lined with colorful strata on the sides, they curved, curled, rose, and fell unpredictably, like fish leaping from the ocean. Supposedly, this all had to do with how the winds blew through the area. He did mean to get around to studying why that was. One of these days.

Slippered feet fell softly on glossy marble, accompanying the sound of the rains, as Lhan escorted the girl—what was her name again? “Look at that city,” he said. “Everyone out there has to work, even the lighteyes. Bread to bake, lands to oversee, cobblestones to… ah… cobble? No, that’s shoes. Damnation. What do you call people who cobble, but don’t actually cobble?”

“I don’t know,” the young woman said softly.

“Well, it’s no matter to us. You see, we have only one job, and it’s an easy one. To serve the queen.”

“That is not easy work.”

“But it is!” Lhan said. “So long as we’re all serving the same way. In a very… ah… careful way.”

“We are sycophants,” the young woman said, staring out over the city. “The queen’s ardents tell her only what she wants to hear.”