Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive 4)

She started toward Ishnah to break the news to her, but felt something like nausea. A twisting of her insides. She hunched over, then tried to suppress it, embarrassed to so suddenly lose control. But then, appearing foolish in front of the others was a small price to pay for an opportunity. And really, if it made them underestimate her, then what harm was done? Veil could use that; she could use most anything.

Veil cleared her throat and took a few deep breaths.

“You all right, Brightness?” Ishnah asked, walking up.

“Fine,” Veil said. “I’ve made my decision; you’ll be joining me in Shadesmar. Would you kindly go tell Vathah and Stargyle that I’d like them to join us as well? I’ll do as you suggested—one more practiced Lightweaver for the resource they offer, one newer agent to learn from the experience.”

“Great,” Ishnah said. “That puts Red in charge during our absence, I suppose? And I assume you could come up with some Lightweaving exercises everyone else can perform while we’re gone.”

“Perfect,” Veil said.

Ishnah grinned as she hurried off. Yes, she did feel suspicious. And if Veil had chosen wrong? Well, she suspected the true spy would somehow end up on the mission anyway. Mraize would make certain of it.

The compact, Shallan thought. Veil … we agreed …

But this was important. Veil had to find out which one of them was the spy. She couldn’t let them stay behind and fester.

We don’t even know if there is a spy, Radiant said. We can’t take too much of what Mraize says as truth.

Well, they would see. Leaving your suspected spy behind, so they could run amok unwatched? They would poison her friends against her. Besides, once she unmasked the actual spy, Veil could use this knowledge against Mraize.

She braced herself for anger from Radiant at breaking the compact. It did set a dangerous precedent, didn’t it?

This is important to you, I see, Radiant thought. She felt strangely quiet. I change my vote, then. I agree to bring them with us.

Veil found this odd. Was Radiant well? Just in case, Veil kept control. She stood tall, trying to appear puffed up like Radiant always acted—as if she wanted to be bigger than she was, some hulking monster in armor.

Veil held full control all through the rest of the day. She almost let go—Shallan was pounding at her from the inside, and that kind of mental doublethink could really wear a woman down. However, Veil needed to see to the rest of the preparations. The mission would be leaving in mere days.

Only when Veil stepped into her rooms—late into the evening—did she begin to relax her grip. However, on the floor inside the room she found a green feather. Mraize?

It was a sign. Veil scanned the room, and her eyes landed on a dresser near the door to the bedroom. A green cloth peeked from one of the drawers.

Holding an amethyst mark for light, she eased the drawer open. Inside she found a metal cube roughly the size of a person’s head. The note on it was in one of Mraize’s ciphers.

“Mmm…” Pattern said from where he dimpled the skirt of her vakama. “What is it, Veil?”

Damnation. She’d hoped to be able to fool Pattern into thinking she was Shallan, but of course he saw through her.

“A note.” She showed it to him, holding the light near the text. “Can you break the cipher, or do I have to go dig out the notebook Mraize gave us?”

“I memorized the patterns. It reads, ‘Spanreeds do not work between realms, but this will. Be very careful with it. It has a value beyond that of some kingdoms. Do not open it, or you risk destroying it. Once on your mission and in a secluded place, hold the cube and call my name. I will speak to you through it. Good hunting, little knife.’”

Curious. She immediately glimpsed into Shadesmar, and found a sphere of light on the other side, glowing with a strange mother-of-pearl coloring. There was power inside the cube, but no Stormlight. Her attention back to the Physical Realm, she shook it and knocked on the sides. It seemed hollow, but she couldn’t find the slightest crack in it.

Storms. How was she going to hide this from Adolin? Well, she’d have to find a way. She would make another trip into Shadesmar, but not by accident. Veil would go on her terms—and she would not spend this trip running.

This time, she was the hunter.

I have been fascinated to discover how much you’ve accomplished on Scadrial without me noticing your presence. How is it that you hide from Shards so well?

Choosing an outfit for the day was a lot like fighting a duel. In both, instincts—rather than conscious decisions—were the key to victory. Adolin didn’t often fret about what to wear; nor did he plan each strike of the sword. He went with what felt right.

The real trick in both cases was making the effort to build your instincts. You couldn’t parry a thrust with muscle memory if you hadn’t spent years practicing those maneuvers. And you couldn’t rely on your gut in fashion choices if you hadn’t already spent hours studying the folios.

That said, once in a while your instincts locked up. Even he sometimes hesitated in a duel, uncertain. And similarly, some days he simply couldn’t decide upon the right jacket.

Adolin stood in his underclothing as he held up the first jacket. Traditional: Kholin blue with white cuffs. Bold white embroidery, with his glyphs—the tall tower and a stylized version of his Blade—on the back. It made him easy to see in battle. It was also boring.

He glanced at the trendy yellow jacket on his bed. He’d ordered that tailored after the fashions he’d seen in Kholinar. It didn’t fully button closed, and it had silver embroidery up the sides and covering the pocket and cuffs. Storms, it was bold. Daring. A bright yellow outfit? Most men couldn’t ever have pulled it off.

Adolin could. Walk into a feast wearing something like this, and you would own everyone’s attention. Look confident, and at the next feast half the men would be trying to imitate you.

He wasn’t going to a feast though. He was starting out on an important mission into Shadesmar. He began rifling through his bureau again.

Shallan strolled in as he tossed three more jackets onto the bed. She wore Veil’s clothing—trousers, long loose jacket, a buttoned shirt. At his suggestion she’d replaced the white trousers and jacket with a more practical tan and blue ensemble. White wouldn’t travel well; she wanted something more rugged, something that wouldn’t show the dirt. Blue and tan matched her white hat, though he’d added a leather band around the base of the crown.

Clothing notwithstanding, she wasn’t Veil today—not with the red hair. Plus, he could usually tell by the way she looked at him. It had been three days since she’d chosen her members for the team, but it was only today that they were finally ready to leave.

Shallan leaned against the door, folding her arms and surveying his work. “You know,” she said, “a girl could get jealous over how much attention you give a choice like this.”

“Jealous?” Adolin said. “Of jackets?”

“Of the one you’re wearing them for.”

“I doubt you have anything to worry about from a group of stuffy old honorspren.”

“I don’t have anything to worry about regardless,” Shallan said. “But you’re not fussing today because of the honorspren. We won’t meet them for a few weeks at best.”