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Adolin nodded slowly, and Radiant cocked her head. Jasnah’s proposal tried to do as the Stump said, but Shallan had sensed something off about the arguments.
Honor, Radiant thought. Yes. Jasnah thinks like a scholar, but not a soldier. There was something wrong about her lofty words and sweeping conclusions.
Honor. How to appeal to the honor of these spren?
Adolin dismissed everyone to get breakfast. He walked over to take another report from the soldier he had keeping watch over that strange band of Tukari humans, who continued keeping pace behind them.
Beryl stood up, wearing a flowing dress—not a traditional havah, but something of an older classical style that covered both her hands in voluminous sleeves. She walked up to Radiant, who still sat with her back to the rock.
Radiant quickly snapped closed the sketchbook; it wouldn’t do for someone to see how terrible Veil’s drawings were.
“Why did you ask me to come to this meeting, Brightness?” Beryl asked.
“You have to get used to playing a role in important events. I want you to gain experience with the politics of our current problem. Besides, you asked to come on this mission when Stargyle proved unavailable.”
“I wanted to see Shadesmar,” she said. “But Brightness, I’ve barely had time to get used to the idea of being a Lightweaver. I’m no politician.” She folded her arms, and suddenly looked cold as she glanced at the rest of the camp. “I don’t belong here, do I? I’m not ready.”
Radiant tapped the top of Shallan’s sketchpad with her pencil, trying to judge whether this woman was lying. But this was Veil’s area of expertise. She’d spent over a decade being a spy.
Be careful, Shallan thought. Remember that decade of experience is imagined.
True. It was hard to remember.
Yeah … Veil thought. My empty past … being nothing back then … unnerves me.
Radiant didn’t miss noting Shallan’s interjection. That was the most they’d gotten out of her in a few days.
“Beryl,” Radiant said, “I want you to practice being around important people. You don’t need to solve Adolin’s problems; you just need experience giving your opinion in a place where it’s safe for you to fail.”
“Yes, Brightness,” she said, relaxing visibly. “Thank you, Brightness.” She bowed and ducked away to go help with breakfast.
I am not the expert, Radiant thought. But I increasingly agree with Veil’s skepticism.
Shallan, lurking deep inside, started to budge. It would be painful to acknowledge that one of her friends, instead of Beryl, might actually be the spy. But it was better than insisting on believing the lie. No matter how expert they were at that particular trick.
Adolin walked over. Radiant tucked her sketchbook under her arm as she stood up, noting the frown on Adolin’s lips.
“The Tukari are still back there?” she guessed.
He nodded. “They turn away any messenger I send, but they’re obviously following us.”
“We could outrun them,” Radiant said. “It would involve putting the Stump and Maya on horseback, then pushing hard to reach the stronghold.”
“Perhaps,” he said. “I kind of need another day to come up with something.…” He handed her a small bar of crushed lavis held together with sugar.
A ration bar? She took it with a frown.
“I thought we’d take a walk,” he said. “While the others eat breakfast. It feels strange to say this, but I feel like we haven’t had any time together since the boat ride.”
Radiant nodded. Fine with her, though she gave way to Veil—who enjoyed conversation more. She tucked her sketchbook into her satchel and slung it over her arm. She wore her rugged travel clothing, with the darker coat and a nice solid pair of boots. Ones that fit her far better than the pair Shallan had stolen from Kaladin.
Adolin waved to his men, then pointed. They waved back, and he started out of camp with Veil following. They didn’t get far before a glowing figure approached, riding on something incredible.
Veil had grown accustomed to the wonders of this place. The way gloryspren would sail overhead in formations, or the way that their evening conversation last night had drawn a large joyspren—which manifested here as a spinning cyclone of color.
Every now and then though, something came along that shocked away even Veil’s deliberate cynicism. Notum’s grand white steed was almost a horse, though it was more graceful and supple, with long legs and a neck that bent in a way no physical spine could manage. It had large eyes but seemingly no mouth, and its hair waved in a phantom wind, like long glowing ribbons. Shallan thought she had never in her life seen something so graceful. She didn’t deserve to see something so divine. As if merely by gazing at it, she sullied it with the cares of a world that it should never touch.
Notum pulled up, controlling the grand spren with a simple bridle of twisted threads. “Human prince,” he said to Adolin, “it is here where I must turn another way. I am forbidden to approach Lasting Integrity. I’ll patrol along to the south, instead of continuing west.”
They’d invited the honorspren to join them, since his patrol had been going along the coast nearby. He’d refused every invitation.
“I wish you the best then, Notum,” Adolin said. “It was good to see you again. Thanks for your advice.”
“I would prefer you take that advice. I assume you have not reconsidered your imprudent quest?”
“I’ve reconsidered plenty,” Adolin said. “I’m still going to try it though.”
“As you wish,” Notum said, then saluted. “If I don’t see you after you’re turned away, give my best to the Ancient Daughter. It is … well that she is not trapped in the stronghold. It would not suit her.”
The honorspren turned to go.
“Notum,” Adolin called. “That spren you ride. It’s strikingly similar to a horse.”
“Is that odd?” he asked.
“Most spren appear nothing like creatures from our world.”
Notum smiled, a rare expression on the spren’s face, then gestured to himself. “Do we not?”
“The humanoid ones, yes,” Adolin said. “I’ve never seen one in the shape of a horse.”
“Not all spren were imagined by men, Adolin Kholin,” Notum called to him. “Farewell.”
As he turned and rode his graceful animal away, Shallan nearly emerged to sketch the thing.
“Storms,” Adolin said. “He’s so cold, and he’s one of the spren who seem to like us. I’m not feeling good about this entire mission.”
“Maybe I can sneak in,” Veil said. “If they do turn us away.”
“What would that accomplish?” Adolin asked.
“I could see if all the honorspren feel the same way, perhaps. Or if there are a few tyrants in charge who refuse to listen to reason.”
“That doesn’t feel like the way spren work, Veil. I have a terrible feeling this is going to go all wrong. And I’ll have come all this way, only to need to slink back to Father and tell him I failed. Again.”
“Through no fault of your own, Adolin.”
“Father talks about the importance of the journey, Veil, but he’s always been equally focused on results. He’s always able to get them himself, so it baffles him why everyone else always seems so incompetent.”
