Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,174

sketch Ua’pam standing on the high deck of the barge.

She’d grown accustomed to Pattern’s presence. She was fond of it, in fact—she enjoyed the way he’d hum when he heard something he knew was untrue, or the way he’d pipe up with questions about the most mundane of human activities. But when all four crowded around, Shallan’s serenity started building toward panic instead.

She’d almost forgotten how frightened she’d been when his strange symbol-headed figure had begun appearing in her drawings. She remembered now, though. Fleeing through the hallways of Kharbranth, her sanity unraveling as she sketched the hallway behind her, filled with Cryptics. She’d been peeking into Shadesmar. Her unconscious mind had begun to perceive spren as they appeared in the Cognitive Realm.

The same tension twisted her insides now, making her pencil lines sharp and stark. She tried to suppress the feeling. There was no reason for her to feel like she needed to run, scramble, scream.

Her lines were too dark, too rigid, to properly capture the Memory of Ua’pam standing with one foot up on the railing, looking like an explorer setting out for adventure. She tried to make herself relax, drawing a fanciful image of sunlight streaming around him. That, however, made the four Cryptics start humming in excitement.

“Could you all step back and give me more room?” Shallan asked the creatures.

They didn’t cock their heads like humans might have, but she could sense confusion in the way their patterns sped up. Then, as if one, all four took exactly one step backward. They then proceeded to lean in even closer.

Shallan sighed, and as she kept drawing, she got Ua’pam’s arm wrong. Spren were hard, because they didn’t quite have human proportions. The Cryptics started humming with excitement.

“That’s not a lie!” Shallan said, reaching for her eraser. “It’s a mistake, you nitwits.”

“Mmmm…” Ornament said. Beryl’s Cryptic had a fine pattern, delicate like lace, and a squeaky voice. “Nitwit! I am a nitwit. Mmmm.”

“A nitwit is a stupid person or spren,” Pattern explained. “But she said it in an endearing way!”

“Stupidly endearing!” Mosaic said. She was Vathah’s Cryptic, and her pattern had sharp lines to it. She often included rapid fast sections that waved like the women’s script. “Contradiction! Wonderful and blessed contradiction of nonsense and human complication to be alive!”

Motif, Ishnah’s Cryptic, simply made a bunch of clicking noises in rapid succession. His Alethi was not good, so he preferred to speak in the Cryptic language. The others began rapidly clicking to one another, and in the overlapping cacophony, she lost track of Pattern. For a moment they were all just a clump of alien creatures, huddled together with their patterns almost touching. The nearby sound of beads slapping against one another seemed the chatter of hundreds of Cryptics. Thousands of them. Watching her. Always watching her …

Radiant came to her rescue. Radiant, who had trained to ignore the chaos of battle, with its distracting sounds and constant yelling. When she took over, she brought with her a stability. She couldn’t draw, so she tucked away the pad. She excused herself from the Cryptics and made her way to the stern of the barge, where she watched the rolling beads until Shallan recovered and emerged.

“Thank you,” she said as Radiant withdrew.

Shallan listened to the peaceful rolling of the beads, endlessly surging. Perhaps it wasn’t just the Cryptics that were bothering her. And after several days on the barge spent drawing, it was time to dive into the problem of finding the spy. She took a deep breath, and submitted to Veil.

No, Veil said.

… No?

You said we could look for the spy today, Shallan said.

We are. You. With my help.

Is this, Shallan asked, penance because you broke the compact?

In a way. I want to coach you through a little espionage.

I don’t need to know it, she thought. I have you.

Humor me, kid. I need this.

Shallan sighed, but agreed. They couldn’t share skills, as evidenced by Veil’s drawing abilities. She knew espionage, Radiant could use a sword, and Shallan had their Lightweaving ability. And their sense of humor.

Oh please, Radiant thought.

“So how do we start?” Shallan asked.

We need to test each of the three subjects, Veil said, and plant a—

Wait, Radiant thought. Shouldn’t we first make absolutely certain the communication device couldn’t have been moved another way? If we’re using that as evidence that the spy is along on this mission?

Shallan ground her teeth. Veil sighed softly.

But both agreed that Radiant was, unfortunately, correct. So Shallan strolled to the large