Dalinar, he thought. I failed Elhokar. After all we went through, after the rains and confronting Moash, I’ve failed. And I lost your city.
He reached up his fingers to touch the painting.
“Marvelous, isn’t it!” a spren said.
Kaladin jumped, sheepishly lowering his fingers. The proprietor of this stall was a Reacher woman, short, with a bronze ponytail.
“It’s a unique piece, human,” she said. “From the far-off Court of Gods, a painting intended only for a divinity to see. It is exceptionally rare that one escapes being burned at the court, and makes its way onto the market.”
“Nine shadows,” Kaladin said. “The Unmade?”
“This is a piece by Nenefra. It is said that each person who sees one of his masterworks sees something different. And to think, I charge such a minuscule price. Only three hundred broams’ worth of Stormlight! Truly, times are difficult in the art market.”
“I…”
Haunting images from Kaladin’s vision overlapped the stark wedges of paint on the canvas. He needed to reach Thaylen City. He had to be there on time—
What was that disturbance behind him?
Kaladin shook out of his reverie and glanced over his shoulder, just in time to see Adolin jogging toward him.
“We have a problem,” the prince said.
* * *
“How could you not mention this!” Shallan said to the little spren at the registrar office. “How could you neglect to point out that Voidspren ruled the city?”
“I thought everyone knew!” he said, vines curling and moving at the corners of his face. “Oh dear. Oh my! Anger is not helpful, human. I am a professional. It is not my job to explain things you should already know!”
“He’s still on Ico’s ship,” Azure said, looking out the office window. “Why is he still on Ico’s ship?”
“That is odd,” the spren said. “Each inspection usually takes only thirteen minutes!”
Damnation. Shallan breathed out, trying to calm herself. Coming back to the registrar had been a calculated risk. He was probably working with the Fused, but they hoped to intimidate him into talking.
“When did it happen?” Shallan asked. “My spren friend told us this was a free city.”
“It’s been months now,” the vine spren said. “Oh, they don’t have firm control here, mind you. Just a few officials, and promises from our leaders to follow. Two Fused check in on us now and then. I think the other is quite insane. Kyril—who is running the inspections—well, he might be mad too, actually. You see, when he gets angry—”
“Damnation!” Azure cursed.
“What?”
“He just set Ico’s ship on fire.”
* * *
Kaladin ran back across the street to find Syl a center of activity. She had pulled her oversized hat down to obscure her face, but a collection of spren stood around the food stall, pointing at her and talking.
Kaladin shoved his way through, took Syl by the arm, and pulled her away from the stall. Adolin followed, holding his harpoon in one hand and a sack of food in the other. He looked threateningly toward the spren in the gathered crowd, who didn’t give chase.
“They recognize you,” Kaladin said to Syl. “Even with the illusory skin color.”
“Uh … maybe…”
“Syl.”
She held to her hat with one hand, her other arm in his hand as he towed her through the street. “So … you know how I mentioned I snuck away from the other honorspren…”
“Yes.”
“So, there might have been an enormous reward for my return. Posted in basically every port in Shadesmar, with my description and some pictures. Um … yeah.”
“You’ve been forgiven,” Kaladin said. “The Stormfather has accepted your bond to me. Your siblings are watching Bridge Four, investigating potential bonds themselves!”
“That’s kind of recent, Kaladin. And I doubt I’ve been forgiven—the others on the Shattered Plains wouldn’t talk to me. As far as they’re concerned, I’m a disobedient child. There’s still an incredible reward in Stormlight to be given to the person that delivers me to the honorspren capital, Lasting Integrity.”
“And you didn’t think this was important to tell me?”
“Sure I did. Right now.”
They stopped to allow Adolin to catch up. The spren back at the food stall were still talking. Storms. This news would spread throughout Celebrant before long.
Kaladin glared at Syl, who pulled down into the oversized poncho she’d bought. “Azure is a bounty hunter,” she said in a small voice. “And I’m … I’m kind of like a spren lighteyes. I didn’t want you to know. In case you hated me, like you hate them.”
Kaladin sighed, taking her by the arm again and pulling her toward the docks.
“I should have known this disguise wouldn’t work,” she added. “I’m obviously too beautiful and interesting to hide.”
“News of this might make it hard to get passage,” Kaladin said. “We…” He stopped in the street. “Is that smoke up ahead?”
* * *
The Fused touched down on the quay, tossing Ico to the ground of the docks. Behind, Ico’s ship had become a raging bonfire—the other sailors and inspectors scrambled down the gangway in a frantic jumble.
Shallan watched from the window. Her breath caught as the Fused lifted a few inches off the ground, then glided toward the registrar’s building.
She sucked in Stormlight by reflex. “Look frightened!” she said to the others. She grabbed Adolin’s spren by the arm and pulled her to the side of the clerk’s room.
The Fused burst in and found them cringing, wearing the faces of sailors that Shallan had sketched. Pattern was the oddest one, his strange head needing to be covered by a hat to have any semblance of looking realistic.
Please don’t notice we’re the same sailors as on the ship. Please.
The Fused ignored them, gliding up to the frightened vine spren behind the desk.
“That ship was hiding human criminals,” Pattern whispered, translating the Fused’s conversation with the registrar. “They had a hydrator and remnants of human food—eaten—on the deck. There are two or three humans, one honorspren, and one inkspren. Have you seen these criminals?”
The vine spren cringed down by the desk. “They went to the market for needed supplies. They asked me for ships that would get them passage to the perpendicularity.”
“You hid this from me?”
“Why does everyone assume I’ll just tell them things? Oh, I need questions, not assumptions!”
The Fused regarded him with a cold glare. “Put that out,” he said, gesturing toward the fire. “Use the city’s sand stores, if needed.”
“Yes, great one. If I might say, starting fires on the docks is an unwise—”
“You may not say. When you finish putting out the fire, clear your things from this office. You are to be replaced immediately.”
The Fused charged out of the room, letting in the scent of smoke. Ico’s ship foundered, the blaze flaring high. Nearby, sailors from other ships were frantically trying to control their mandras and move their vessels away.