Words of Radiance

Adolin sighed, but let the matter drop, instead nodding toward the platform. “How did you do it?”

“Conjoined fabrials,” Navani said. “The trick was finding a way to overcome the structural weaknesses of the gemstones, which succumb easily to the multiplied strain of simultaneous infusion drain and physical stress. We . . .”

She trailed off as she caught Adolin’s eyes glazing over. He was a bright young man when it came to most social interactions, but he didn’t have a single scholarly breath in him. Navani smiled, switching to layman’s terms.

“If you split a fabrial gemstone in a certain way,” Navani said, “you can link the two pieces together so they mimic each other’s motions. Like a spanreed?”

“Ah, right,” Adolin said.

“Well,” Navani said, “we can also make two halves that move opposite one another. We filled the floor of that parapet with such gemstones and put their other halves in the wooden square. Once we engage them all—so they are mimicking one another in reverse—we can pull one platform down and make the other go up.”

“Huh,” Adolin said. “Can you make this work on a battlefield?”

That was, of course, the exact thing Dalinar had asked when she’d shown him the concepts. “Proximity is a problem right now,” she said. “The farther the pairs grow from one another, the weaker their interaction, and that causes them to crack more easily. You don’t see it with something light like a spanreed, but when working with heavy weights . . . Well, we can probably get them working on the Shattered Plains. That’s our goal right now. You could roll one of these out there, then engage it and write back to us via reed. We pull the platform here down, and your archers get raised up fifty feet to gain a perfect archery position.”

This, finally, seemed to get Adolin excited. “The enemy wouldn’t be able to topple it or climb it! Stormfather. The tactical advantage!”

“Exactly.”

“You don’t sound enthusiastic.”

“I am, dear,” Navani said. “But this isn’t the most ambitious idea we’ve had for this technique. Not by a faint breeze or a stormwind.”

He frowned at her.

“It’s all very technical and theoretical right now,” Navani said, smiling. “But just wait. When you see the things the ardents are imagining—”

“Not you?” Adolin asked.

“I’m their patron, dear,” Navani said, patting him on the arm. “I don’t have time to make all of the diagrams and figures, even were I up to the task.” She looked down at the gathered ardents and women scientists who were inspecting the floor of the parapet platform. “They suffer me.”

“Surely it’s more than that.”

Perhaps in another life it could have been. She was sure some of them saw her as a colleague. Many, however, just saw her as the woman who sponsored them so she’d have new fabrials to show off at parties. Perhaps she was just that. A lighteyed lady of rank had to have some hobbies, didn’t she?

“I assume you’re here to escort me to the meeting?” The highprinces, abuzz about the assassin’s attack, had demanded that Elhokar meet with them today.

Adolin nodded, twitching and glancing over his shoulder as he heard a noise, instinctively stepping protectively to put himself between Navani and whatever it was. The noise, however, was just some workers taking the side off one of Dalinar’s massive rolling bridges. Those were the main purpose of these grounds; she’d merely appropriated the area for her test.

She held her arm out to him. “You’re as bad as your father.”

“Perhaps I am,” he said, taking her arm. That Plated hand of his might have made some women uncomfortable, but she’d been around Plate far, far more often than most.

They started down the wide steps together. “Aunt,” he said. “Have you been, uh, doing anything to encourage my father’s advances? Between you two, I mean.” For a boy who spent half his life flirting with anything in a dress, he certainly did blush a lot when he said that.

“Encourage him?” Navani said. “I did more than that, child. I practically had to seduce the man. Your father is certainly stubborn.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Adolin said dryly. “You realize how much more difficult you’ve made his position? He’s trying to force the other highprinces to follow the Codes using the social constraints of honor, yet he’s pointedly ignoring something similar.”

“A bothersome tradition.”

“You seem content to ignore only the ones you find bothersome, while expecting us to follow all the others.”

“Of course,” Navani said, smiling. “You haven’t figured that out before now?”

Adolin’s expression grew grim.

“Don’t sulk,” Navani said. “You’re free from the causal for now, as Jasnah has apparently decided to gallivant off someplace. I won’t have the chance to marry you off quite yet, at least not until she reappears.” Knowing her, that could be tomorrow—or it could be months from now.

“I’m not sulking,” Adolin said.

“Of course you aren’t,” she said, patting his armored arm as they reached the bottom of the steps. “Let’s get to the palace. I don’t know if your father will be able to delay the meeting for us if we’re tardy.”

And when they were spoken of by the common folk, the Releasers claimed to be misjudged because of the dreadful nature of their power; and when they dealt with others, always were they firm in their claim that other epithets, notably “Dustbringers,” often heard in the common speech, were unacceptable substitutions, in particular for their similarity to the word “Voidbringers.” They did also exercise anger in great prejudice regarding it, though to many who speak, there was little difference between these two assemblies.

—From Words of Radiance, chapter 17, page 11

Shallan awoke as a new woman.

She wasn’t yet completely certain who that woman was, but she knew who that woman was not. She was not the same frightened girl who had suffered the storms of a broken home. She was not the same naive woman who had tried to steal from Jasnah Kholin. She was not the same woman who had been deceived by Kabsal and then Tyn.

That did not mean she was not still frightened or naive. She was both. But she was also tired. Tired of being shoved around, tired of being misled, tired of being dismissed. During the trip with Tvlakv, she’d pretended she could lead and take charge. She no longer felt the need to pretend.

She knelt beside one of Tyn’s trunks. She’d resisted letting the men break it open—she wanted a few trunks for keeping clothing—but her search of the tent hadn’t found the proper key.

“Pattern,” she said. “Can you look inside of this? Squeeze in through the keyhole?”

“Mmm . . .” Pattern moved onto the side of the trunk, then shrank down to be the size of her thumbnail. He moved in easily. She heard his voice from inside. “Dark.”

“Drat,” she said, fishing out a sphere and holding it up to the keyhole. “Does that help?”

“I see a pattern,” he said.

“A pattern? What kind of—”

Click.

Shallan started, then reached to lift the lid of the trunk. Pattern buzzed happily inside.

“You unlocked it.”

“A pattern,” he said happily.

“You can move things?”

“Push a little here and there,” he said. “Very little strength on this side. Mmm . . .”

The trunk was filled with clothing and had a pouch of spheres in a black cloth bag. Both would be very useful. Shallan searched through and found a dress with fine embroidery and a modern cut. Tyn needed it, of course, for times when she pretended to be of a higher status. Shallan put it on, found it loose through the bust but otherwise acceptable, then did her face and hair at the mirror using the dead woman’s makeup and brushes.

When she left the tent that morning, she felt—for the first time in what seemed ages—like a true lighteyed woman. That was well, for today she would finally reach the Shattered Plains. And, hopefully, destiny.

She strode out into the morning light. Her men worked alongside the caravan’s parshmen to break down camp. With Tyn’s guards dead, the only armed force in the camp belonged to Shallan.

Vathah fell into step beside her. “We burned the bodies last night as you instructed, Brightness. And another guard patrol stopped by this morning while you were getting ready. They obviously wanted us to know that they intend to keep the peace. If someone camps in this spot and finds the bones of Tyn and her soldiers in the ashes, it could lead to questions. I don’t know that the caravan workers will keep your secret if asked.”

“Thank you,” Shallan said. “Have one of the men gather the bones into a sack. I’ll deal with them.”

Had she really just said that?

Vathah nodded curtly, as if this were the expected answer. “Some of the men are uncomfortable, now that we’re so close to the warcamps.”

“Do you still think I’m incapable of keeping my promises to them?”