“I feel what you say is right, but . . . I had always imagined the Dawnshards as weapons, like the mythical Honorblades.” To be honest, she’d rarely heard the term “Dawnshard,” but she was pretty sure she’d always conflated them with Honorblades.

“The most powerful forms of Surgebinding transcend traditional mortal understanding,” Nikli said. His body began to re-form, hordelings crawling back into place. “All their greatest applications require Intent and a Command. Demands on a level no person could ever manage alone. To make such Commands, one must have the reasoning—the breadth of understanding—of a deity. And so, the Dawnshards. The four primal Commands that created all things.” He paused. “And then eventually, they were used to undo Adonalsium itself. . . .”

Cord whispered something in her own language.

“So you do know,” Nikli said to her.

“There are songs . . .” Cord said. “From long ago. Of when this . . . Command came through the pool.” She whispered again in her tongue, and it sounded like a prayer.

Rysn was watching several hordelings that had slipped around near her. These looked strikingly like Chiri-Chiri in miniature.

“We once assumed,” Nikli said, noticing her attention, “that the last of the lanceryn had died, and the few hordelings we had bred with them were all that remained. Inferior bloodlines, though they give us the ability to negate some applications of Stormlight. Yours is the third larkin we now know to have survived—but the only one that has grown mature enough to return here.”

Chiri-Chiri had settled down on the table, though she watched the three Sleepless and clicked warningly.

“Why . . . did you say she needed to return?” Rysn asked. “Will she grow sick again?”

“Larger greatshells need to bond mandras—you call them luckspren—to keep from crushing themselves to death with their own weight. The mandras of this place are special. Smaller, yet more potent, than the common breeds. It is no simple thing to make a creature as heavy as a lancer—or larkin, as they are now called—fly. Chiri-Chiri will need to return every few years until she is fully grown.”

“Fully grown?” Rysn said, turning again toward those skulls. “Oh storms . . .”

“You should never have come here,” Nikli said. “You should have been dissuaded. But . . . we cannot deny that what you said is true. You were brought by the needs of an Ancient Guardian. And unfortunately, the rest of what you say is also true. Our secret leaks into the world. This Dawnshard is no longer safe. I must say . . . I had not anticipated being persuaded in this matter.”

“It is the job of a trademaster to see a need, then fulfill it,” Rysn said. She felt the strange pressure in the back of her mind. It was a Command? How had it been in the mural, but now invaded her head? She hadn’t been able to read the writing. What kind of Command wasn’t written, but infused a subject like Stormlight in a sphere?

Nikli stood up, his hordelings snapping together. He pulled his robe tight. “We will discuss.” Behind, the other two disintegrated completely, turning into piles. “Then we will vote. It will not take long, as the others have been relaying our conversation to all the swarms. We communicate faster than humans.”

“Nikli,” Rysn said. “When you speak to them, I have a request. Among my people, during important treaty negotiations, both parties often bring a witness of integrity. Someone to speak to the moral character of the diplomats involved. Tell me, are you the same person who has traveled with me these months? You didn’t somehow replace the real Nikli?”

“I am the same person you hired,” Nikli said. “My initial task was to watch the Ancient Guardian and assess whether she was being cared for. Beyond that, we had a reasonable guess that an expedition would soon come here via a Thaylen ship. And yours is the finest of the fleet. It was a simple decision to place me in the crew of the Wandersail.”

“Then you’ve sailed with me,” Rysn said. “You know me. When you speak to the others, I want you to tell them—honestly—what you think of me.”

“I don’t know if—”

“All I ask is honesty,” Rysn said. “Tell them about me, and what kind of trademaster I am.”

He nodded, then broke into hordelings—like a person who had frozen in cold Southern winds, then shattered.

Cord knelt beside her. “You did well,” she whispered. “As well as anyone in the songs, when dealing with dangerous gods. But you did not trick him.”

“Hopefully this is better,” Rysn whispered back.

Cord nodded, but then immediately began working on the Plate to get the last pieces powered. She plainly wanted to be ready, just in case.

It wouldn’t be enough. Rysn waited, tense, watching the hordelings chitter and move, as if the many pieces were at least slightly autonomous. Nikli had said his conference with the others would not take long, but Rysn found the wait almost unbearable.

After about five minutes, Nikli re-formed. “It is done.”

“And . . . how did it go?” Rysn asked.

“They . . . listened. The others think this is a promising idea you propose, and appreciate the dual nature of the lies, layered to trick our enemies. My kin insisted on two further terms, though. You must never bond a spren to become a Radiant.”

“I . . . doubt Chiri-Chiri would be willing to share me,” she said. “I hadn’t considered it, not seriously.”

“Also, you may not tell anyone what has happened to you,” Nikli said. “Unless you ask us first. I . . . explained to them that humans often need people to confide in. They pointed to Cord as one, but I suggested we might need more. If we are going to maintain this secret, and work with humans to protect the Dawnshard, there could be others we need. You will speak to us before you do these things, and you may only tell them what we agree to let you.”

“I agree to these terms,” Rysn said, “so long as you promise that none of my crew are to be harmed by your kind. They are . . . still alive, aren’t they?”

“Regrettably, there has been a conflict on the beach with some of our more . . . specialized hordelings,” Nikli said. “The Radiants have led the crew to the city to hide, and I believe three of the sailors have died. Those on the ship have been kept safe, per my request.”

Rysn felt a twist in her stomach for those she’d failed. At the same time, she had worried that far more had died. This was much better than she’d feared.

“And you,” Nikli said to Cord. “You will protect the Dawnshard, fight for its defense?”

“No,” Cord said, standing up, helm under her arm.

“But—” Nikli began.

“I am no soldier,” Cord said, her voice growing softer. “I am no warrior. I must train if I am to be of any use. I will go to war and learn to use this gift. I will fight the Void, as my father refuses to do. Once I’ve accomplished that goal, then I will consider your request.”

Nikli glanced toward Rysn, who shrugged. “I mean . . . she has a point, Nikli.”

“Fine,” Nikli said, with a very human sigh. “But Cord, you will vow upon the honor of both your mother and your father that you will bear this secret and tell no one. Not even blood relatives.”