“I thought they were all in Shinovar, except the one Moash wields.”
“They were.” Mraize said it simply, directly, with an implication: She wasn’t getting any more information on that topic. Not unless she finished this mission, whereupon he had promised to answer all her questions.
“You should equip yourself with Stormlight,” Mraize suggested. “If you have not found Restares, there is a chance he knows you are there—and that could be dangerous. He is not the type to fight unless cornered, but once pushed, there are few beings as dangerous on this planet.”
“Great, wonderful,” Veil said. “Nice to know I have to start sleeping with one eye open. You could have warned me.”
“Considering your paranoia, would you have done anything differently?” Mraize sounded amused.
“You’re probably right about the Stormlight,” Veil said. “The honorspren do have a store of it; they let us use it to heal Adolin. Makes me wonder where they obtained all the perfect gemstones to hold it for so long.”
“They’ve had millennia to gather them, little knife,” Mraize said. “And they love gemstones, perhaps for the same reason we admire swords. During the days of the Radiants, some even believed the stories of the Stone of Ten Dawns, and spent lifetimes hunting it. How will you obtain Stormlight from these honorspren?”
“I’ll begin working on a plan,” she said.
“Excellent. And how is your … stability, little knife?”
She thought about Shallan taking control, locking Veil and Radiant away somehow. “Could be better,” she admitted.
“Answers will help free you,” Mraize said. “Once you’ve earned them.”
“Perhaps,” Veil said. “Or perhaps you’ll be surprised at what I already know.” The trouble wasn’t getting answers. It was finding the presence of mind to accept them.
Now, was there a way she could confirm what Pattern had said? About Wit, and the Ghostbloods spying on him? She toyed with the idea, but decided not to say anything. She didn’t want to tell Mraize too much.
Her musings were interrupted by the sound of people shouting. That was uncommon here in honorspren territory.
“I need to go,” she told Mraize. “Something’s happening.”
* * *
The honorspren had a multitude of reasons for delaying Adolin’s trial. Their first and most obvious excuse was the need to wait for the “High Judge,” a spren who was out on patrol. Adolin had spent weeks assuming this was the Stormfather, because of things they’d said. Yet when he’d mentioned that the other day, the honorspren had laughed.
So now he had no idea who or what the High Judge was, and their answers to him were strange. The High Judge was some kind of spren, that seemed clear. But not an honorspren. The judge was of a variety that was very rare.
In any case, waiting for the High Judge to return gave the honorspren time to prepare documentation, notes, and testimonies. Had that all been ready, though, they wouldn’t have allowed the trial to proceed yet. Because Adolin, they explained, was an idiot.
Well, they didn’t say it in so many words. Still, he couldn’t help but suspect that was how they felt. He was woefully ignorant of what they considered proper trial procedure. Thus he found himself in today’s meeting. Every two days he had an appointment for instruction. The honorspren were quite clear: His offer, worded as it had been, let them condemn him as a traitor and murderer. Though that hadn’t completely been his intent, this trial would let them pin the sins of the ancient Radiants on him. Before they did so, they wanted him to understand proper trial procedure. What strange beings.
He stepped softly through the library, a long flat building on the northern plane of Lasting Integrity. Honorspren liked their books, judging by the extensive collection—but he rarely saw them in here. They seemed to enjoy owning the books, treating them like relics to be hoarded.
His tutor, on the other hand, was a different story. She stood on a step stool, counting through books on an upper shelf. Her clothing, made of her substance, was reminiscent of a Thaylen tradeswoman’s attire: a knee-length skirt with blouse and shawl. Unlike an honorspren, her coloring was an ebony black, with a certain sheen in the right light. Like the variegated colors oil made on a sword blade.
She was an inkspren; Jasnah had bonded one, though Adolin had never seen him. This one called herself Blended—a name that felt peculiar to him.
“Ah, Highprince,” she said, noting him. “You are.”
“I am,” he said. During their weeks talking together, he’d grown mostly accustomed to her distinctive style of speaking.
“Good, good,” she said, climbing down the steps. “Our time nearly is not. Come, we must talk.”
“Our time nearly is not?” Adolin said, hurrying alongside her. She was shorter than most honorspren, and wore her hair—pure black like the rest of her—pinned up in something that wasn’t quite a braid. Though her skin was mostly monochrome black, faint variations outlined her features, making her round face and small nose more visible.
“Yes,” she said. “The honorspren have set the date for your trial. It is.”
“When?”
“Three days.”
“The High Judge is here, then?” Adolin asked as they reached their study table.
“He must be returning soon,” she said. “Perhaps he already is in this place. So, we must make decisions.” She sat without ceasing her torrent of words. “You are not ready. Your progress is not, Highprince Adolin. I do not say this to be insulting. It simply is.”
“I know,” he said, sitting down. “Honorspren law is … complex. I wish you could speak for me.”
“It is not their way.”
“It seems designed to be frustrating.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “This is unsurprising, as it was devised by a stuck-up bunch of prim, overly polished buttons.”
There was no love lost between inkspren and honorspren. And Blended was supposedly among the more diplomatic of her type—she was the official inkspren emissary to Lasting Integrity.
“I know an honorspren in my realm,” Adolin said. “She can be … interesting at times, but I wouldn’t call her prim.”
“The Ancient Daughter?” Blended asked. “She’s not the only one whose personality is as you speak. Many honorspren used to be like that. Others still are. But Lasting Integrity, and those who here are, have had a strong effect on many honorspren. They preach isolation. Others listen.”
“It’s so extreme,” Adolin said. “They must see there is a better way of dealing with their anger at humans.”
“Agreed. A better solution is. I would simply kill you.”
Adolin started. “… Excuse me?”
“If a human tries to bond me,” Blended said, flipping through the books in her stack, “I will attack him and kill him. This better solution is.”
“I don’t think Radiants force bonds,” Adolin said.
“They would coerce. I would strike first. Your kind are not trustworthy.” She set aside one of her books, shaking her head. “Regardless, I am worried about your training. It is weak, through no fault of yours. The honorspren will use the intricacies of their laws against you, to your detriment. You will be as a child trying to fight a duel. I believe trials among your kind are more direct?”