Words of Radiance

“Anyway,” Tyn said, “you’ll need a good backwater accent or two. Herdazian, Bavlander, something like that.”

“I probably have a rural Veden accent,” Shallan admitted.

“That won’t work out here. Jah Keved is a cultured country, and your internal accents are too similar to one another for outsiders to recognize. Alethi won’t hear rural from you, like a fellow Veden would. They’ll just hear exotic.”

“You’ve been to a lot of places, haven’t you?” Shallan asked.

“I go wherever the winds take me. It’s a good life, so long as you’re not attached to stuff.”

“Stuff?” Shallan asked. “But you’re—pardon—you’re a thief. That’s all about getting more stuff!”

“I take what I can get, but that just proves how transient stuff is. You’ll take some things, but then you’ll lose them. Just like the job I pulled down south. My team never returned from their mission; I’m half convinced they ran off without seeing me paid.” She shrugged. “It happens. No need to get worked up.”

“What kind of job was it?” Shallan asked, blinking pointedly to take a Memory of Tyn lounging there, sweeping her reed as if conducting musicians, not a care in the world. They’d nearly died a couple of weeks back, but Tyn took it in stride.

“It was a big job,” Tyn said. “Important, for the kinds of people who make things change in the world. I still haven’t heard back from the ones who hired us. Maybe my men didn’t run off; maybe they just failed. I don’t know for certain.” Here, Shallan caught tension in Tyn’s face. A tightening of the skin around the eyes, a distance to her gaze. She was worried about what her employers might do to her. Then it was gone, smoothed away. “Have a look,” Tyn said, nodding up ahead.

Shallan followed the gesture and noticed moving figures a few hills over. The landscape had slowly changed as they approached the Plains. The hills grew steeper, but the air a little warmer, and plant life was more prevalent. Stands of trees clustered in some of the valleys, where waters would flow after highstorms. The trees were squat, different from the flowing majesty of the ones she’d known in Jah Keved, but it was still nice to see something other than scrub.

The grass here was fuller. It pulled smartly away from the wagons, sinking into its burrows. The rockbuds here grew large, and shalebark cropped up in patches, often with lifespren bouncing about like tiny green motes. During their days traveling they’d passed other caravans, more plentiful now that they were closer to the Shattered Plains. So Shallan wasn’t surprised to see someone up ahead. The figures, however, rode horses. Who could afford animals like that? And why didn’t they have an escort? There seemed to be only four of them.

The caravan rolled to a stop as Macob yelled an order from the first wagon. Shallan had learned, through awful experience, just how dangerous any encounter out here could be. None were taken lightly by caravan masters. She was the authority here, but she allowed those with more experience to call stops and choose their path.

“Come on,” Tyn said, stopping the chull with a whack of the stick, then hopping down from the wagon and grabbing her coat and sword off their pegs.

Shallan scrambled down, putting on her Jasnah face. She let herself be herself with Tyn. With the others, she needed to be a leader. Stiff, stern, but hopefully inspiring. To that end, she was pleased with the blue dress that Macob had given her. Embroidered with silver, made of the finest silk, it was a wonderful upgrade from her tattered one.

They walked past where Vathah and his men marched just behind the lead wagon. The leader of the deserters shot Tyn a glare. His dislike of the woman was only more reason to respect her, despite her criminal proclivities.

“Brightness Davar and I will handle this,” Tyn said to Macob as they passed.

“Brightness?” Macob said, standing and looking toward Shallan. “What if they are bandits?”

“There are only four of them, Master Macob,” Shallan said lightly. “The day I can’t handle four bandits on my own is a day I deserve to be robbed.”

They passed the wagon, Tyn tying on her belt.

“What if they are bandits?” Shallan hissed once they were out of earshot.

“I thought you said you could handle four.”

“I was just going along with your attitude!”

“That’s dangerous, kid,” Tyn said with a grin. “Look, bandits wouldn’t let us see them, and they certainly wouldn’t just sit there.”

The group of four men waited on the top of the hill. As Shallan drew closer, she could see that they were wearing crisp blue uniforms that looked quite genuine. At the bottom of the ravine between hills, Shallan stubbed her toe on a rockbud. She grimaced—Macob had given her lighteyed shoes to match her dress. They were luxurious, and probably worth a fortune, but they were little more than slippers.

“We’ll wait here,” Shallan said. “They can come to us.”

“Sounds good to me,” Tyn said. Indeed, up above, the men started moving down the hillside when they noticed Shallan and Tyn were waiting for them. Two more came and followed after them on foot, men not in uniforms, but workers’ clothing. Grooms?

“Who are you going to be?” Tyn asked softly.

“. . . Myself?” Shallan replied.

“What’s the fun in that?” Tyn said. “How’s your Horneater?”

“Horneater! I—”

“Too late,” Tyn said as the men rode up.

Shallan found horses intimidating. The large brutish things weren’t docile like chulls. Horses were always stomping about, snorting.

The lead rider reined in his horse with some obvious annoyance. He didn’t seem in complete control of the beast. “Brightness,” he said, nodding to her as he saw her eyes. Shockingly, he was darkeyed, a tall man with black Alethi hair he wore down to his shoulders. He looked over Tyn, noting the sword and the soldier’s uniform, but let slip no reaction. A hard man, this one.

“Her Highness,” Tyn announced in a loud voice, gesturing toward Shallan, “Princess Unulukuak’kina’autu’atai! You are in the presence of royalty, darkeyes!”

“A Horneater?” the man said, leaning down, inspecting Shallan’s red hair. “Wearing a Vorin dress. Rock would have a fit.”

Tyn looked to Shallan and raised an eyebrow.

I’m going to strangle you, woman, Shallan thought, then took a deep breath. “This thing,” Shallan said, gesturing at her dress. “He is not what you have a princess wear? He is good for me. You will be respect!” Fortunately, her red face would fit for a Horneater. They were a passionate people.

Tyn nodded to her, looking appreciative.

“I’m sorry,” the man said, though he didn’t seem very apologetic. What was a darkeyes doing riding an animal of such value? One of the man’s companions was inspecting the caravan through a spyglass. He was darkeyed too, but looked more comfortable on his mount.

“Seven wagons, Kal,” the man said. “Well guarded.”

The man, Kal, nodded. “I’ve been sent out to look for signs of bandits,” he said to Tyn. “Has all been well with your caravan?”

“We ran into some bandits three weeks ago,” Tyn said, thumbing over her shoulder. “Why do you care?”

“We represent the king,” the man said. “And are from the personal guard of Dalinar Kholin.”

Oh, storms. Well, that was going to be inconvenient.

“Brightlord Kholin,” Kal continued, “is investigating the possibility of a wider range of control around the Shattered Plains. If you really were attacked, I would like to know the details.”

“If we were attacked?” Shallan asked. “You doubt our word?”

“No—”

“I am offend!” Shallan declared, folding her arms.

“You’d better watch yourself,” Tyn told the men. “Her Highness does not like to be offended.”

“How surprising,” Kal said. “Where did the attack take place? You fought it off? How many bandits were there?”

Tyn filled him in on the details, which gave Shallan a chance to think. Dalinar Kholin was her future father-in-law, if the causal matured into a marriage. Hopefully, she wouldn’t run into these particular soldiers again.

I really am going to strangle you, Tyn. . . .

Their leader listened to the details of the attack with a stoic air. He didn’t seem like a very pleasant man.

“I am sorry to hear of your losses,” Kal said. “But you’re only a day and a half by caravan from the Shattered Plains now. You should be safe the rest of the way.”

“I am curiosity,” Shallan said. “These animals, they are horses? Yet you are darkeyed. This . . . Kholin trusts you well.”

“I do my duty,” Kal said, studying her. “Where are the rest of your people? That caravan looks as if it’s all Vorin. Also, you look a little spindly for a Horneater.”

“Did you just insult the princess’s weight?” Tyn asked, aghast.

Storms! She was good. She actually managed to produce angerspren with the remark.