Syl took off to begin poking through the room, looking at each table. Though he’d once seen her fascination as childlike, he’d evolved on that idea. She was just curious, desirous to learn. If that was childlike, then everyone needed more of it.

She was fascinated by human beings. In a room like this one, Kaladin would often find her standing on a crowded table—unseen by the occupants—head cocked as she tried to imitate the mannerisms or expressions of one person or another.

Adolin’s booth was occupied by a young woman with long dark hair wearing trousers and a buttoned shirt, her long white coat hung on the peg nearby. She had her hat on, the wide-brimmed one with the peaked front.

“Veil,” Kaladin said, sliding into the booth. “We going to have you all night, or will Shallan show up?”

“Probably just me,” Veil said, tipping back her cup to reach the last of her drink. “Shallan had a busy day, and we’re on Shattered Plains time, not Urithiru time. She wants a rest.”

It must be nice, Kaladin thought, to be able to retreat and become someone else when you get tired.

It was sometimes difficult to treat Shallan’s personas as three distinct people, but it was what she seemed to prefer. Fortunately, she tended to change her hair color to give the rest of them cues. Black for Veil, and she’d started using blonde for Radiant.

A young barmaid came by, refilling Veil’s cup with something deep red.

“And you?” the serving girl asked Kaladin.

“Orange,” he said softly. “Chilled, if you have it.”

“Orange?” the girl said. “A man like you can stomach something stronger. It’s a party! We’ve got a nice yellow infused with peca, an Azish fruit. I’ll—”

“Hey,” Veil said, putting her boots on the table with a thump. “The man said orange.”

“I just thought—”

“Bring him what he asked for. That’s all you need to think about.”

Flustered, the girl scampered off. Kaladin nodded to Veil in thanks, though he wished people wouldn’t stick up for him quite so zealously. He could speak for himself. As long as Dalinar followed the strictest interpretation of the Codes of War, so would Kaladin. And barring that … well, his friends knew. When Kaladin was in one of his moods, alcohol—for all that it seemed it would help him forget his pain—always made the darkness worse. He could use Stormlight to burn off the effects, but once he had a drink or two in him, he often … didn’t want to. Or felt he didn’t deserve to. Same difference.

“So,” Veil said. “I hear your mission went well? An entire town stolen right out from underneath their storming noses? The Mink himself rescued? Heads will roll in Kholinar when Odium hears about this.”

“I doubt he cares much about one town,” Kaladin said. “And they don’t know we got the Mink.”

“Regardless,” Veil said, lifting her cup to him.

“And you?” Kaladin asked.

She leaned forward, taking her boots off the table. “You should have seen it. Ialai was basically a skeleton, withered away. We’d defeated her before we arrived. But it sure was satisfying to bring her down.”

“I’m sure.”

“Pity someone murdered her,” Veil said. “I’d have enjoyed watching her squirm before Dalinar.”

“Murdered her?” Kaladin said. “What?”

“Yeah, someone offed her. One of our people, unfortunately. They must have been bribed by someone who wanted to see her dead. That’s a secret, by the way. We’re telling everyone she killed herself.”

Kaladin glanced around.

“Nobody will hear in here,” Veil said. “Our booth is isolated.”

“Still. Don’t discuss military secrets in public.”

Veil rolled her eyes, but then she shook her head, and her hair blended to blonde and she sat up straighter. “Do get a full report from Dalinar later, Kaladin. There are oddities about the event that trouble me.”

“I…” Kaladin said. “We’ll see. You share Veil’s opinion that Shallan is fine? She merely needs a rest?”

“She is well enough,” Radiant said. “We’ve found a balance. A year now, without any new personas forming. Except…”

Kaladin raised an eyebrow.

“There are some, half-formed,” Radiant said, turning away. “They wait, to see if the Three really can work. Or if it could crumble, letting them out. They aren’t real. Not as real as I am. And yet. And yet…” She met Kaladin’s eyes. “Shallan wouldn’t wish me to share that much. But as her friend, you should know.”

“I’m not sure if I can help,” Kaladin said. “I can barely keep a handle on my own problems these days.”

“You being here helps,” Radiant said.

Did it? When Kaladin was in moods like this, he felt that he would bring only darkness to those around him. Why would they want to be with him? He wouldn’t want to be with him. But he supposed this was the sort of thing Radiant had to say; it was what made her distinct from the others.

She smiled as Adolin returned, then shook her head, hair bleeding to black. She leaned back, relaxed. How nice it must be to transform into Veil, with her laid-back attitude.

As Adolin was settling down, the barmaid returned with Kaladin’s drink. “If you decide you want to try that yellow…” she said to Kaladin.

“Thanks, Mel,” Adolin said quickly. “But he doesn’t need anything to drink today.”

The barmaid gave him a radiant smile—married man or not, they still treated him that way—and floated off, seeming encouraged by the fact that the highprince had spoken to her. Although he’d basically given her a reprimand.

“How’s the groom?” Veil asked, getting out her dagger and balancing it on the end of her fingertip.

“Befuddled,” Adolin said.

“Groom?” Kaladin asked.

“Wedding party?” Adolin said, waving toward the room of festive people. “For Jor?”

“Who?” Kaladin asked.

“Kaladin,” Adolin said, “we’ve been coming to this place for eight months.”

“Don’t bother, Adolin,” Veil said. “Kaladin doesn’t notice people unless they’ve pulled a weapon on him.”

“He notices,” Adolin said. “He cares. But Kaladin’s a soldier—and he thinks like one. Right, bridgeboy?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Kaladin grumbled, sipping his drink.

“You’ve learned to worry about your squad,” Adolin said. “And to cut out extraneous information. I’ll bet Kaladin could tell you the age, eye color, and favorite food of everyone serving beneath him. But he’s not going to bother with remembering the names of the bar staff. Father’s the same way.”

“Well,” Veil said, “this is real fun and everything, but shouldn’t we be moving on to a more important topic?”

“Such as?” Adolin asked.

“Such as who we’re going to fix Kaladin up with next.”

Kaladin about spat out his drink. “He doesn’t need fixing up with anyone.”