“Schematics?” the woman said. “Like what?”

“Surely you’ve heard news of the enormous flying platform that left Narak a few weeks ago. I have the plans. I know exactly how it was done. I’ve sold smaller fabrial schematics to Natan buyers, but nothing on this level. I’ve been searching for a buyer of enough means to purchase this secret.”

“Selling military secrets?” the male cultist said. “To other kingdoms? That is treason!”

Says the man wearing a silly hood and trying to depose the Kholin monarchy, Veil thought. These people …

“It’s only treason if you accept Dalinar’s family as rightful rulers,” Shallan said to him. “I do not. But if we can truly help House Sadeas assert itself … These secrets could be worth thousands of broams. I would share them with Queen Sadeas.”

“We will take them to her,” the woman said.

Radiant affixed her with a calculated stare, level and calm. A leader’s stare, one Shallan had sketched a dozen times over as she watched Dalinar interact with people. The stare of one in power, who didn’t need to say it.

You will not take this from me, the stare said. If you want favor for having been involved in this revelation, you’ll do it by assisting me—not by taking it for yourself.

“I’m certain that someday this might—” the man began.

“Show me,” the woman said, interrupting him.

Hooked, Veil thought. Nice work, you two.

“I’ve got some of the plans in my satchel,” Shallan said.

“We searched the satchel,” the woman said, waving to a nearby cultist to produce the bag. “There were no plans.”

“You think I’d be foolish enough to leave them where they could be discovered?” Shallan said, taking the satchel. She dug inside and covertly took a quick breath of Light as she pulled out a small notebook. She flipped to a rear page, then took out a charcoal pencil. Before the others could crowd around, she breathed out carefully, snapping a Lightweaving in place. Fortunately, she’d been asked to help with the schematics—Shallan had real trouble creating a Lightweaving of something she hadn’t previously drawn.

By the time the lead cultists had positioned themselves to peer over her shoulder, she had the Lightweaving in place. As she carefully rubbed her charcoal across the page, it seemed to reveal a hidden schematic.

Your turn, Shallan said as Veil took over.

“You trace the schematic on a piece of paper above this one,” Veil explained, “and press very hard. That leaves an indentation in the page. A light brush of charcoal reveals it. This isn’t the entire thing, naturally; I keep it as proof for potential buyers.”

Shallan felt a little stab of pride at the complicated illusion. It appeared exactly as she wanted it to, making a complicated series of lines and notations appear magically on the page as she did the rubbing.

“I can’t make any sense of that,” the man complained.

The woman, however, leaned closer. “Replace her sack,” the woman said. “We’ll bring the matter to the queen. This might be interesting enough for her to grant an audience.”

Veil steeled herself as a cultist snatched away her notebook, probably to try applying charcoal to the other pages, which would of course do nothing. The tall man pulled the sack over her head, but as he did so he leaned close.

“What now?” he whispered to Veil. “This feels like trouble.”

Don’t break character, Red, she thought, bowing her head. She needed to get to Ialai and discover if the woman really did have a spy in Dalinar’s court. That meant taking a few risks.

Red was the first one they’d embedded into the Sons of Honor, but his persona—that of a darkeyed workman—hadn’t been important enough to get any real access. Hopefully, together they could—

Shouts rose nearby in the chasm. Veil spun, blinded by the sack. Storms alight. What was that?

“We’ve been followed,” the male leader of the conspirators said. “To arms! Those are Kholin troops!”

Damnation, Veil thought. Radiant was right.

Adolin, seeing her sack replaced, had decided it was time to take this group captive and cut their losses.

* * *

Kaladin traded blows with his enemy, landing one hit, then another. As he came back around, the Heavenly One thrust down with his lance. But Kaladin had drilled spearplay until he could practically fight in his sleep. Hovering in the air, surging with Stormlight, his body knew what to do and deflected the thrust.

Kaladin made his own lunge, scoring another hit. As they danced, they rotated around one another. Much of Kaladin’s formal training had been with spear and shield, intended for formation tactics, but he’d always loved the longspear, wielded two-handed. There was a power to it, a control. He could move the weapon so much more deftly this way.

This Heavenly One wasn’t as good as Leshwi. Kaladin scored yet another slice along the enemy’s arm. The Shardspear did no physical damage other than greying the flesh around where the cut would have been. It soon healed, but each healing came more slowly. The enemy’s Voidlight was running out.

The enemy started humming one of the Fused songs, gritting his teeth as he tried to spear Kaladin. They saw Kaladin as a challenge, a test. Leshwi always got to fight Kaladin first, but if he disengaged or defeated her, another was always waiting. A part of him wondered if this was why he was so tired lately. Even little skirmishes were a slog, never giving him a break.

A deeper part of him knew that wasn’t the reason at all.

His enemy prepared to strike, and Kaladin reached with his off hand for one of his belt knives, then whipped it into the air. The Fused overreacted and fumbled his defense. That let Kaladin score a spear hit along the thigh. Defeating a Fused was a test in endurance. Cut them enough, and they slowed. Cut them more, and they stopped healing entirely.

His opponent’s humming grew louder, and Kaladin sensed the wounds weren’t healing any longer. Time to go for the kill. He dodged a strike—then changed Syl into a hammer, which he swung down on the enemy’s weapon, smashing it. The powerful blow threw the Heavenly One completely off balance.

Kaladin dropped the hammer and thrust his hands forward; Syl was instantly a spear, steady in his grip. His aim was true, and he speared the enemy right through the arm. The Fused grunted as Kaladin whipped the spear out by reflex, then spun it around and leveled it at the enemy’s neck.

The Fused met his eyes, then licked his lips, waiting. The creature began to slowly drop from the sky, his Light expended, his powers failing.

Killing him does no good, Kaladin thought. He’ll simply be reborn. Still, that was one Fused out of combat for a few days at least.

He’s out anyway, he thought as the creature’s arm flopped down at his side, useless and dead from the Shardspear cut. What good is another death?

Kaladin lowered his spear, then gestured to the side. “Go,” he said. Some of them understood Alethi.

The Fused hummed a different tone, then raised his broken spear to Kaladin—holding it in his off hand. The Heavenly One dropped the weapon toward the rocks below. The creature bowed his head to Kaladin, then drifted away.

Now, where had—

A ribbon of red light streaked in from the side.

Kaladin immediately Lashed himself backward and spun, weapon out. He hadn’t realized he’d been dedicating a part of his energy to watching for that red light.