He will be trouble, Jasnah thought. Even more than he has been. Amaram genuinely thought he was Alethkar’s only hope and salvation, and had a keen desire to prove it. Left alone, he’d rip the armies apart to justify his inflated opinion of himself.
She’d speak with Dalinar. Perhaps the two of them could devise something to keep Amaram safely occupied. And if that didn’t work, she wouldn’t speak to Dalinar about the other precaution she would take. She’d been out of touch for a long time, but she was confident there would be assassins for hire here, ones who knew her reputation for discretion and excellent pay.
A high-pitched sound came from beside her, and Jasnah glanced to find Shallan sitting perkily on her seat, making an excited noise in the back of her throat and clapping her hands together quickly, the sound muffled by her clothed safehand.
Wonderful.
“Mother,” Jasnah said, “might I speak for a moment with my ward?”
Navani nodded, her eyes lingering on the doorway where Amaram had exited. Once, she’d pushed for the union between them. Jasnah didn’t blame her; the truth of Amaram was difficult to see, and had been even more so in the past, when he’d been close to Jasnah’s father.
Navani withdrew, leaving Shallan alone at the table stacked with reports.
“Brightness!” Shallan said as Jasnah sat. “That was incredible!”
“I let myself be pushed into abundant emotion.”
“You were so clever!”
“And yet, my first insult was not to attack him, but the moral reputation of his female relative. Clever? Or simply the use of an obvious bludgeon?”
“Oh. Um … Well…”
“Regardless,” Jasnah cut in, wishing to avoid further conversation about Amaram, “I’ve been thinking about your training.”
Shallan stiffened immediately. “I’ve been very busy, Brightness. However, I’m sure I’ll be able to get to those books you assigned me very soon.”
Jasnah rubbed her forehead. This girl …
“Brightness,” Shallan said, “I think I might have to request a leave from my studies.” Shallan spoke so quickly the words ran into one another. “His Majesty says he needs me to go with him on the expedition to Kholinar.”
Jasnah frowned. Kholinar? “Nonsense. They’ll have the Windrunner with them. Why do they need you?”
“The king is worried they might need to sneak into the city,” Shallan said. “Or even through the middle of it, if it’s occupied. We can’t know how far the siege has progressed. If Elhokar has to reach the Oathgate without being recognized, then my illusions will be invaluable. I have to go. It’s so inconvenient. I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath, eyes wide, as if afraid that Jasnah would snap at her.
This girl.
“I’ll speak with Elhokar,” Jasnah said. “I feel that might be extreme. For now, I want you to do drawings of Renarin’s and Kaladin’s spren, for scholarly reasons. Bring them to me for…” She trailed off. “What is he doing?”
Renarin stood near the far wall, which was covered in palm-size tiles. He tapped a specific one, and somehow made it pop out, like a drawer.
Jasnah stood, throwing back her chair. She strode across the room, Shallan scampering along behind her.
Renarin glanced at them, then held up what he’d found in the small drawer. A ruby, long as Jasnah’s thumb, cut into a strange shape with holes drilled in it. What on Roshar? She took it from him and held it up.
“What is it?” Navani said, shouldering up beside her. “A fabrial? No metal parts. What is that shape?”
Jasnah reluctantly surrendered it to her mother.
“So many imperfections in the cut,” Navani said. “That will cause it to lose Stormlight quickly. It won’t even hold a charge for a day, I bet. And it will vibrate something fierce.”
Curious. Jasnah touched it, infusing the gemstone with Stormlight. It started glowing, but not nearly as brightly as it should have. Navani was, of course, right. It vibrated as Stormlight curled off it. Why would anyone spoil a gem with such a twisted cut, and why hide it? The small drawer was latched with a spring, but she couldn’t see how Renarin had gotten it undone.
“Storms,” Shallan whispered as other scholars crowded around. “That’s a pattern.”
“A pattern?”
“Buzzes in sequence…” Shallan said. “My spren says he thinks this is a code. Letters?”
“Music of language,” Renarin whispered. He drew in Stormlight from some spheres in his pocket, then turned and pressed his hands against the wall, sending a surge of Stormlight through it that extended from his palms like twin ripples on the surface of a pond.
Drawers slid open, one behind each white tile. A hundred, two hundred … each revealing gemstones inside.
The library had decayed, but the ancient Radiants had obviously anticipated that.
They’d found another way to pass on their knowledge.
I would have thought, before attaining my current station, that a deity could not be surprised.
Obviously, this is not true. I can be surprised. I can perhaps even be naive, I think.
“I’m just asking,” Khen grumbled, “how this is any better. We were slaves under the Alethi. Now we’re slaves under the Fused. Great. It does me so much good to know that our misery is now at the hands of our own people.” The parshwoman set her bundle down with a rattling thump.
“You’ll get us in trouble again, talking like that,” Sah said. He dropped his bundle of wooden poles, then walked back the other way.
Moash followed, passing rows of humans and parshmen turning the poles into ladders. These, like Sah and the rest of his team, would soon be carrying those ladders into battle, facing down a storm of arrows.
What a strange echo of his life months ago in Sadeas’s warcamp. Except here he’d been given sturdy gloves, a nice pair of boots, and three solid meals a day. The only thing wrong with the situation—other than the fact that he and the others would soon be charging a fortified position—was that he had too much free time.
The workers hauled stacks of wood from one part of the lumberyard to the next, and were occasionally assigned to saw or chop. But there wasn’t enough to keep them busy. That was a very bad thing, as he’d learned on the Shattered Plains. Give condemned men too much time and they’d start to ask questions.
“Look,” Khen said, walking next to Sah just ahead, “at least tell me you’re angry, Sah. Don’t tell me you think we deserve this.”
“We harbored a spy,” Sah muttered.
A spy that, Moash had quickly learned, had been none other than Kaladin Stormblessed.
“Like a bunch of slaves should be able to spot a spy?” Khen said. “Really? Shouldn’t the spren have been the one to spot him? It’s like they wanted something to pin on us. Like it’s … it’s a…”
“Like it’s a setup?” Moash asked from behind.
“Yeah, a setup,” Khen agreed.
They did that a lot, forgetting words. Or … maybe they were simply trying the words out for the first time.
Their accent was so similar to that of many of the bridgemen who had been Moash’s friends.