Words of Radiance

The salvation of the entire world.

I’ve been played for one of the ten fools, Moash thought, chin to his chest. And I don’t even know how.

The wagon started rolling again.

88. The Man Who Owned the Winds

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From the Diagram, North Wall Coda, Windowsill region: paragraph 2 (This appears to be a sequence of dates, but their relevance is as yet unknown.)

They soon began to move into the tower.

There was nothing else they could do, though Adolin’s explorations were far from finished. Night was approaching, and the temperature was dropping outside. Beyond that, the highstorm that had hit the Shattered Plains would be raging across the land currently, and would eventually hit these mountains. It took over a day for one to cross the entire continent, and they were probably somewhere near the center, so it would be growing close.

An unscheduled highstorm, Shallan thought, walking through the dark hallways with her guards. And something else coming from the other direction.

She could tell that this tower—its contents, every hallway—was a majestic wonder. It spoke worlds about how tired she was that she didn’t want to draw any of it. She just wanted to sleep.

Their spherelight revealed something odd on the wall ahead. Shallan frowned, shaking off her fatigue and stepping up to it. A small folded piece of paper, like a card. She glanced back at her guards, who looked equally confused.

She pulled the card off the wall; it had been stuck in place with some weevilwax on the back. Inside was the triangle symbol of the Ghostbloods. Beneath it, Shallan’s name. Not Veil’s name.

Shallan’s.

Panic. Alertness. In a moment, she had sucked in the Light of their lantern, plunging the corridor into darkness. Light shone from a doorway nearby, however.

She stared at it. Gaz moved to investigate, but Shallan stopped him with a gesture.

Run or fight?

Run where? she thought. Hesitant, she stepped up to the doorway, again motioning her guards back.

Mraize stood inside, gazing out a large, glassless window that overlooked another section of the innards of this tower. He turned toward her, twisted and scarred, yet somehow refined in his gentleman’s clothing.

So. She had been found out.

I am no longer a child who hides in her room when the shouting comes, she thought firmly to herself, walking into the room. If I run from this man, he will see me as something to be hunted.

She stepped right up to him, ready to summon Pattern. He wasn’t like other Shardblades; she acknowledged that now. He could come more quickly than the ten requisite heartbeats.

He’d done that before. She hadn’t been willing to admit that he was capable of it. Admitting that would have meant too much.

How many more of my lies, she thought, hold me back from things I could accomplish?

But she needed those lies. Needed them.

“You led me on a grand hunt, Veil,” Mraize said. “If your abilities had not been manifest during the course of saving the army, I perhaps never would have located your false identity.”

“Veil is the false identity, Mraize,” Shallan said. “I am me.”

He inspected her. “I think not.”

She met that gaze, but shivered inside.

“A curious position you are in,” Mraize said. “Will you hide the true nature of your powers? I was able to guess what they are, but others will not be so knowledgeable. They might see only the Blade, and not ask what else you can do.”

“I don’t see how it’s a concern of yours.”

“You are one of us,” Mraize said. “We look after our own.”

Shallan frowned. “But you’ve seen through the lie.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to be one of the Ghostbloods?” His tone was not threatening, but those eyes… storms, those eyes could have drilled through stone. “We do not offer the invitation to just anyone.”

“You killed Jasnah,” Shallan hissed.

“Yes. After she, in turn, had assassinated a number of our members. You didn’t think her hands were clean of blood, did you, Veil?”

She looked away, breaking his gaze.

“I should have guessed that you would turn out to be Shallan Davar,” Mraize continued. “I feel a fool for not seeing it earlier. Your family has a long history of involvement in these events.”

“I will not help you,” Shallan said.

“Curious. You should know that I have your brothers.”

She looked to him sharply.