Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,166

those three on the mission so I could watch them. But I should have persuaded you two first.”

So go investigate.

“Radiant is right,” Veil said. “That can wait.” It was painful for her to admit, but something was more important. She continued her terrible drawing.

We’re not going to let you retreat and hide, Radiant thought—and Veil could feel her relief in discovering the two of them agreed on this. Something is wrong, Shallan. Something bigger than what Veil did. Something that’s affecting all of us, making us erratic.

“I used to think you kept secrets from Adolin because you were like me and enjoyed the thrill of being part of the Ghostbloods,” Veil said. “I was wrong. There’s something more, isn’t there? Why do you keep lying? What is going on?”

I … Shallan said. I …

The dark thing stirred inside her. Formless, the personality that could be. The dark thing that represented Shallan’s fears, compounded.

Veil had her flaws. She was a drunkard and had trouble with scope and perspective. She represented a whole host of attributes Shallan wanted, but knew she shouldn’t.

Yet at her core, Veil had a singular purpose: She’d been created to protect Shallan. And she would send herself to Damnation before she let that Formless thing take her place.

She gripped her pencil and started drawing Adolin. Really, really poorly.

I don’t care, Shallan thought.

Veil gave him a unibrow.

Veil …

Veil drew him with crossed eyes.

That’s going too far.

Veil put him in an ugly coat. And cut-off, knee-length trousers.

“Fine!” Shallan said, ripping the page out of the sketchbook and wadding it up. “You win. Insufferable woman.” She settled back against the barge’s railing and took a deep breath. Then, as the other two insisted, she let herself relax.

It really … really was all right. Yes, someone had used the communication cube to call Mraize. Yes, someone had invaded her things. Yes, one of her friends was undoubtedly a spy. But she could handle the problem. She could get through this.

But they had two weeks of travel ahead of them. So today, she could relax. Because she was on a barge full of spren, and they were all so fascinating. Storms, how had she let herself retreat at a time like this? And for Veil to give up so willingly …

I’m sorry, Veil thought. I’ll do better. And we can work on the spy another time.

Right, then. Shallan pointedly ripped up the sketch of Adolin and stuffed the pieces in her satchel, then gripped her charcoal pencil and allowed herself to just draw.

* * *

Adolin found her five hours later, still sitting on the deck, her back to the railing, sketching furiously. He’d brought her food—warm curry and lavis, from the smell of it. That would be some of the last “real” food they’d have for a while. A part of her acknowledged the way the scents made her stomach growl. But for the moment, she remained mesmerized as she worked on her sketches of the peakspren.

It felt so good to let go and draw. To not worry about a mission, or her own psychosis, or even about Adolin. To become so wrapped up in the art that nothing else mattered. There was an infinite sensation to creation, as if time smeared like paint on a canvas. Mutable. Changeable.

When she finally drifted out of it to the scent of sweet curry and the sight of Adolin smiling as he sat down beside her, she felt worlds better. More whole. More herself than she’d been in months.

“Thanks,” she said, handing him the sketchbook and taking the food. She leaned against him as she began to eat, watching Arshqqam and her mistspren pass—Shallan needed to do a sketch of that strange spren at some point.

“Have you made any progress on that book of Ialai’s?” Adolin asked.

“I’ve figured out nearly the entire thing,” Shallan said. “It’s filled with conjectures, though, and not much substance. The Ghostbloods seem to be searching for Ba-Ado-Mishram, one of the Unmade. But I can’t determine for certain what they intend to do once they find her.”

Adolin grunted. “And the spy? Among our numbers?”

“Still working on it,” she said. “But I’d rather not talk about that today. I need some time to mull it over.” She took another bite, feeling his chest against her back. “You’re tense, Adolin. Aren’t we supposed to be able to relax, this part of the trip?”

“I’m worried about the mission.”

“Because of what Syl said? About the honorspren being unlikely to listen?”

He nodded.

“If they turn us away, they